I lost my first baby, it was a miscarriage. First scan there was a heartbeat, second scan there was none. It broke me, it wasn't something I'd ever considered would happen and felt so unprepared. Waiting in my hospital gown to go into theatre for a D&C, I couldn't hold back the wave of grief. A nurse asked me what was wrong and I was in shock at her question. She didn't know why I was having the procedure and I didn't know there were other reasons a woman might have a D&C. I needed pure empathy and support and it wasn't there.

That was a hard time, a devastating time actually. I never sought counselling. I quit my job. I had to rebuild myself, let go of dreams and set new goals. Depression brings about a crazy strong focus, and back then I thought the trick was to use that focus on things to distract you... my distraction was either going to be alcohol or exercise. I took up road cycling and the training gave me an outlet for my grief. Within 3 months I won my first 100km race.

It took a year to fall pregnant again. And with the pregnancy came the anxiety. The anxiety made me stop all cycling, and without the focus and exercise, my depression hit hard. I was an emotional mess. As the pregnancy progressed, my dark thoughts gained strength as I would picture myself hanging by my neck from the back verandah. I wasn't focused on how labour and birth would go. I was waiting for the day I'd be told my baby was dead and confirmation that I was defective.

I was under the care of an obstetrician. He told me I was high risk because of my previous miscarriage. He gave me internal examinations every appointment and would inspect my breasts each time to check for changes. I never realised until years later that this was an uncommon experience. He told me he'd only ever had one first time mum deliver naturally without drugs and that she was an Iron Woman. I spent my pregnancy feeling incapable on every level.

My waters broke at 36 weeks and I was still at work. I was told i needed to go to hospital for IV antibiotics.  I had no bag packed for hospital and my anxiety levels were peaking. I laboured for 2 days on and off in hospital before agreeing to the syntocinon drip. I felt exhausted before I began. But my cycling training kicked in and mentally I coped well with the induced labour for 8 hours.

I discovered what it felt like to labour with a baby in posterior position, with my membranes already ruptured, and with a midwife who told me she would not stand and hold monitors on me for the trace and that I needed to get on the bed and lay still. Everything about my state of mind was anxiety, panic, fear, rejection and failure, and my body closed down. With a broken will, I requested an epidural.

My version of 2nd stage labour went for 2 hours and ended in a forceps delivery. My midwife refused to do much other than paperwork, so my husband was tasked to get the obstetrician gloves and also hold my leg as I was coached through prolonged pushing. My obstetrician attempted to turn my baby while he was in my vaginal Canal. The first attempt failed and with the second attempt I felt and heard a huge clunk as he forcefully twisted my baby by his head. I was terrified he had just broken my child's neck. I easily pushed out my son with the next contraction and he was a dreadful blue colour and I was in absolute shock. It was like nothing I had ever seen let alone experienced before.

The midwife took my baby immediately, wrapped him up tight and gave him back to me after conducting her initial assessments. Apgar scores later read were 9 then 10. He never needed to be taken from me. I tried to unwrap my baby so that I could have some skin to skin but the Midwife kept taking the baby back and rewrapping him in a huff. Overwhelmed with anxiety, I begun having a panic attack and I thought I was going to die. I was given some Valium and left in a room on my own for around 5 hours. The guilt of this separation haunts me to this day.

For the days that followed, the same midwife was assigned to my care. She was a Jekyll and Hyde. If she was in the room alone with me she would say terrible things, discouraging things, like "You'll never be able to breastfeed, let me go get you some formula." But then my husband would walk in and she would say "Oh you're doing a fabulous job! Keep it up." She made me feel like I was losing my mind. I ended up making a complaint thank goodness and she was relieved of looking after me and my baby.

My son had jaundice and was under lights for days, with strictly minimal time allocated to feed and no cuddles. On one occasion the staff encouraged me to sleep and said they'd wake me after 2 hours to feed him. I awoke in a panic to see him in the humidicrib screaming in distress and hunger. It was 5 hours later. I'll never forgive the hospital staff for their lack of care. My trust in hospital staff was completely gone.

After the longest week of my life in hospital with my little jaundice baby, we were finally allowed to leave. I still feel as though his treatment was unnecessary. Unfortunately, the next 12 months were similar kind of Hell, one of the darkest times of my life. My baby screamed so much, he was so discontent, in so much pain and I was completely incapable of fulfilling his needs. I would you get outrageously angry, I would scream at him, I hated him, I hated myself and I wanted to die. I even visualized how I would do it and how I would take my baby with me when I went.