Laura Kilduff

“When the baby’s heart rate was dropping I wasn’t worried about me, it was purely about the baby and howRead more →


Comfort Osagie-Ogbeide

“You have to buy your life.” Comfort works in hospital administration in London. She is originally from Nigeria. What isRead more →


Laura Kilduff

“When the baby’s heart rate was dropping I wasn’t worried about me, it was purely about the baby and how we were going to get him out safely.”

Laura Kilduff is 33 years old and lives in Oxfordshire, U.K. She is a Chartered Occupational Psychologist and runs her own business from home. Her first child, Charlie, was born by emergency caesarean section last year.

What were your concerns going in to your pregnancy?

The main thing – which must be similar to every woman around the world having their first child – was fear of the unknown. You can ask what a contraction feels like, but no one can properly describe it. Everyone seems to have a different experience. So at night, when you can’t sleep, you’re on your iPhone Googling questions – and the answers are always the worst.

You wind yourself into this ball of tension and worry about what is going to happen.

How did you prepare? Was the possibility of C-section discussed?

I took an antenatal course. That environment of women together, sharing fears and experiences, it was so important. But the option of caesarean section was mostly glossed over – we focused on that ‘ideal’ natural birth.

It’s something cultural we seem to be going through in the U.K. at the moment – births have to be natural and if it’s not natural the sense is that it’s unnatural.

So I went into it not really thinking a C-section would happen. Everyone talks about the candles, the birthing room, the pool! All this lovely stuff. Although in the end – with nine in the group – only one had that ‘ideal’, everyone else had a lot of intervention.

What happened at the hospital?

I went into labour the night before I was scheduled to be induced, two weeks past my due date. They put me in a room at the hospital and I said, “I don’t think I need an induction, I think labour is on its way!” They put a monitor on my tummy to check the baby’s heart rate – it kept dropping suddenly, and he was obviously in a bit of distress.

I was there three hours, four hours, contractions getting painful and stronger. But whenever I had a contraction the baby’s heart rate dropped, and they didn’t know why. At this point the consultant looked at all the print outs and said there’s a possibility you may need a C-section.

We’re lucky in this country in that we have some fantastic anaesthetists, great surgeons and nurses, and you have to trust that they know when it’s needed, necessary. I’m not medical, but I could see and hear the beeps of when the baby’s heart rated dropped – I knew something was wrong.

And then…

I was on a gurney and on the way to theatre in less than five minutes. It turns out the baby’s head was pressing on the cord, so during contractions he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

You have to be strong. You’re in tears because of the pain, so you look to the people around you, to reassure you.

Although what you’re not really prepared for is the number of them. At least two anesthetists, two surgeons, the midwife, a couple of nurses, my husband. You’re in pain and surrounded by all these people, most of whom you’ve never met before – you just have to trust them. Half an hour max and he’ll be with you.

What was it like after the operation?

You don’t realize how debilitating it is; the first night you can’t really move at all. I couldn’t pick up the baby, and I was only just about ready to walk by the time we left the hospital. The recovery is much longer than you think as well. You stumble down the road and turn back after five minutes, exhausted. You can’t push the pram because it puts pressure on the stitches. And you need a lot of time for your muscles to recover.

Then there’s that question of a second baby – because of the incision there’s more of a risk, so do you have to have another C-section?

Has this experience changed the way you think about the issue of women’s health worldwide?

You hear stories in the media of women who haven’t survived, or had stillbirths. You can’t imagine it. And thank god I didn’t have to. When the baby’s heart rate was dropping I wasn’t worried about me, it was purely about the baby and how we were going to get him out safely. And whether he would be ok when he came out.

After the birth a lot of people said ‘oh, you had an emergency C-section – it must have been awful’ – but childbirth is pretty horrific generally, for the child and the mum! You need that awareness that it isn’t an easy thing to do – there’s going to be pain and upheaval whether or not you have an operation.

It was the right thing for me. The baby came out in 10 minutes. He was fine, cried quickly. They stiched me up and then we went back to the delivery room to bond with him.

Actually, nine months later it’s almost hard recalling it – you mentally block out a lot of what happens, that’s nature’s way.

You can’t forget if you don’t have the baby there.


Comfort Osagie-Ogbeide

“You have to buy your life.”

Comfort works in hospital administration in London. She is originally from Nigeria.

What is your experience of surgery?

Well it saved my friend’s life. She needed a caesarean section for her second baby, and she survived. But it was very difficult.

Why is that?

The attention she needed wasn’t really there, due to lack of financial resources and unavailability of the right equipment in Government hospitals. She decided to go private but lacked the initial deposit. If you don’t have the money, you don’t get the treatment.

There’s so much pressure on the family. The price they may charge is huge, and of course if she’s pregnant the lady hasn’t been working. It pains you to see this happening – women dying from illnesses that are not supposed to take them. You have to buy your life.

So is it hard to trust in surgical care?

Recently I heard about a young lady who died from an incomplete operation. Not immediately – she went for a surgery to deliver a stillbirth and they left some products behind. She kept going for follow up, kept complaining that she had pains. She wasn’t wealthy, and her life didn’t get enough attention. She was neglected until she developed sepsis, and she died.

From a stillbirth. A tragedy followed by a tragedy. It is really difficult to trust surgical care.

Surgery is that line between life and death, and it’s the common belief that if you go into surgery you’re not likely to come back.

Has your attitude changed since you moved to the U.K.?

Here at least they’ve got the right equipment to look after the patient. I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing inherently dangerous about surgery when you need it and you do it safely.

It’s when you need it and they don’t have the resources for that. My friend and her baby almost wasted away. It’s just a nightmare. You don’t want to talk about it.