We want to thank Amy, a Mother who so courageously shares her story below with us.
Her words are raw, honest, and powerful.
Her voice speaks for so many who have felt unheard, dismissed, disrespected and overwhelmed in the early stages of motherhood.
Amy’s experience echoes the struggles so often seen in maternal mental health struggles:
✨ Feeling silenced
✨ Doubting your instincts
✨ Being brushed off by professionals
✨ Carrying guilt and shame
✨ Struggling alone when you should have been supported
By speaking up, Amy not only honours her journey — she shines a light for others still navigating theirs.
Learning to Trust My Voice
I thought I was as prepared as I could be for birth.
I’d read the books, completed the NCT classes. I was ready.
Or so I thought.
The night I went into labour, the Champions League final was just starting on TV – impeccable timing by our little one! My waters had started leaking, so the hospital advised that we come in to be checked.
Tests confirmed my waters had gone, and when they later found signs of meconium, they decided to keep me in for monitoring.
The pains started coming thick and fast.
By 11 pm, my husband, Craig, was told to go home because I “wasn’t in active labour yet.”
I didn’t want him to leave.
I asked if he could stay.
I asked if I went to have a bath, could he stay?
Each time, the answer was no.
“You’ll have plenty of time together tomorrow,” they said.
I paced the corridor alone on the post-natal ward, trying not to disturb new mums with their new babies who needed their rest.
I asked again and again if he could come back.
Still no.
Still told: “You’re not in labour yet.”
The pain was overwhelming, and still no pain relief.
The midwife, exhausted after five night shifts, was getting cross and frustrated with me when she came to monitor me because I couldn’t stay still.
I begged for an examination, just to know where I was, just to make sense of what was happening.
Reluctantly, she agreed.
“I can see the head–baby is coming!” she shouted.
In that moment, everything changed.
I knew it.
I had known it all along.
But no one had listened.
A rush to the delivery suite.
A call to Craig at 4:55 am.
He sprinted back, arriving at 5:20 am.
Our little girl arrived at 5:25 am – just five minutes after he walked through the door. Just five minutes of support from my birthing partner.
I was shell-shocked, I felt robbed of my experience of this together with Craig and utterly defeated.
My first moments as a mother were steeped not in joy, but in a sense of failure.
Because no one had listened.
Because I hadn’t been heard.
The months that followed were no easier.
Grace struggled to feed.
She was sick multiple times every day.
Despite raising my concerns repeatedly – to midwives, health visitors and GPs – I was told over and over, “Babies are sick. It’s normal.”
I remember clearly one health visitor came to the house, and as she left, she said to me,
Maybe you should try to enjoy being a mum instead of looking for problems.
Her words cut deeply.
I began to doubt everything – even the simplest decisions.
Was I wrong?
For months, I kept a diary of Grace’s sickness, documenting everything.
In December 2017, when she was nearly two years old, it was the run-up to Christmas. She had been eating her chocolates in her Advent stocking and had been sick daily.
I knew there was a correlation, and something in me snapped.
I booked a GP appointment and demanded a referral.
No more asking.
No more second-guessing myself.
A month later, a specialist confirmed what I had suspected all along:
Grace had a dairy allergy.
I cried when I got home – not just for Grace, but for myself.
For the damage done to my self-trust.
For all the times I was made to feel small, paranoid, and wrong.
Grace is almost 10 years old now, and this experience still lives with me.
I still struggle with doubting my voice.
I still battle the fear of not being heard.
But every day, I work on it.
Every day, I remind myself that I know my child.
I knew then.
I know now.
To anyone else walking this same path:
Please don’t doubt yourself.
Please don’t let others silence your instincts.
Please don’t be afraid to advocate fiercely for yourself and for your baby.
I learned the hard way.
I hope you won’t have to.
Amy x
If you recognise yourself in Amy’s words and need support to make sense of your own experience, please reach out. You don’t have to go through this alone.
Laura x
