Why I dread my child's birthday
Words by Alexandra Evans
Ro has passed out in my arms without needing to be fed to sleep for the first time in his life. I’d like to think it is down to the skills I have learnt in the last eleven months of being a mum, but in reality, he is just exhausted after attending his pal's first birthday party.
Over the next six weeks, we have been invited to nine other babies' first birthday parties. We hit the jackpot when it came to our antenatal classes: the women are lovely and we have relied heavily on each other this last year. The WhatsApp group has been my lifeline and normally I would jump at the chance to hang out with a bunch of mums who know exactly what I am going through regarding baby-related issues, but these first birthday parties are the exception. They mark the countdown to my son's birthday. It’s a day I’m trying to avoid.
For most people, their child’s first birthday is a day to celebrate. They will spend the days leading up to it thinking about what cake to buy, how many presents a one-year-old needs, if they are going to host a party at a soft play, or opt for a session at a pub (I’d personally pick the latter). For me, though, Rowan’s birthday marks the one-year anniversary of the worst day of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my child, but the way we met was horrific. After a three-day labour with everything going wrong, the ordeal ended with a near-death experience, multiple doctors trying to find and stop a bleed, physical trauma that still hasn’t completely healed 11 months later, and mental scars that will take even longer to fade.
"For most people, their child’s first birthday is a day to celebrate. For me though, Rowan’s birthday marks the one-year anniversary of the worst day of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my child, but the way we met each other was horrific."
The word birthday has taken on a new meaning. In three weeks I will be surrounded by friends and family wanting to mark the occasion of the day I birthed my child with celebration. There will be a room of people raising a glass to toast the anniversary of a day I try to forget. There is no other situation where a person would have an annual party to mark the day they nearly lost their life: to remember the date of their most terrifying experience and be expected to pretend the events were something magical. You wouldn’t expect a car crash survivor to hire an Elsa impersonator to come and sing Let It Go on the one-year anniversary of nearly breaking their neck.
I feel guilty knowing in advance that I will struggle to enjoy the day. My son deserves to be celebrated and my husband deserves to enjoy a pat on the back for making it through his first year as a parent. We have been equal caregivers this last year, and he should be acknowledged for his successes during the last twelve months. It is a celebration for survival and learning as a couple, but it is also a reminder that there was a very real chance I might not have been here if I'd had a different doctor on the day.
'It is estimated that 30,000 women a year, in the UK alone, have suffered negative experiences during the delivery of their babies. One-in-20 develop post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).’ APPG birth trauma enquiry 2024.
"Birth trauma is a subject that is rarely talked about, yet the statistics show there is a crisis. And yet, a year down the line, it is expected to have been dealt with and that I put it away so as not to ruin the milestone moment of my child turning one."
"Women are expected to be grateful for their child’s arrival and not begrudge the experience that brought them into the world. Everything is polarised these days, but you can hate the day your child was born and also be thankful for his arrival."
The numbers are staggering and this data only represents the women who have been brave enough to register a complaint. Birth trauma is a subject that is rarely talked about, yet the statistics show there is a crisis. And yet, a year down the line, it is expected to have been dealt with and that I put it away so as not to ruin the milestone moment of my child turning one.
I wonder if across the country, there are parties taking place where women are hiding in the bathroom between renditions of Happy Birthday and Bluey-inspired cakes being paraded out, taking a quiet moment to reflect on what they were doing this time last year, before wiping their tears away and re-joining the celebrations. Women are expected to be grateful for their child’s arrival and not begrudge the experience that brought them into the world. Everything is polarised these days, but you can hate the day your child was born and also be thankful for his arrival. Both things can be true.
Before the clock struck twelve on New Year's Eve, my husband tearfully told me he was so thankful that I was still here. In our house we don’t pretend our son's birth was a magical moment because it scarred us both. I want to start a new tradition where we celebrate that we still get to be a family at the end of this year because a doctor worked her hardest to make sure I survived. Maybe this moment of reflection will only last for the first few birthdays. Maybe, after a lot of therapy, it won’t feel so raw. For now, I think I'll spare myself the painful reminder, skip nine more rounds of first birthday celebrations, and just send a card instead.
Alexandra Evans is a writer, actor, and model living in London. Her memoir, ‘I Didn’t Want to Scare You…’ examines pregnancy and birth trauma, and is currently out on submission. She has just launched her Substack, which explores these themes further. Her previous work has been published by The Rally, Jaden Magazine, Living 360 magazine, and Free the Verse.