Even now, seven years on, I can still recall that feeling, deep inside of me, telling me that something was wrong. Very wrong.  A part of me knew that I was very poorly and yet I ignored it. I overrode it.  I ignored my innate, inner knowing and it literally nearly killed me.  At the time I had no knowledge of my intuition, no awareness of the sacred wisdom of my body. Yet it was speaking to me, loud and clear.

I remember my rational, logical mind jumping in to try and make sense of the situation. I literally had a conversation with myself in my head: ‘Come on now Amanda, stop making a fuss. Yes, it hurts, but what did you expect? You just had a baby, and he was a big baby, you had a tear and an episiotomy. This is just normal.’

It was approximately 2am on Friday morning, and three hours ago I had given birth to my first baby. He was lovely, a complete surprise to me (I was expecting a girl.)  He was also fairly large (8lbs 10.5oz) and was born in compound presentation and not in an optimal position. His birth was not a particularly positive or empowering experience, and I needed assistance from the doctor, and repairing afterwards.

I managed the sensations of my contractions fairly well; taking in copious amounts of gas and air and swearing at my husband when he tried to take it from me. Never once did I ask for an epidural. Yet here I was, three hours later, in significant pain. I did what I had always done: nothing. Suck it up, internalise it and, whatever you do, ‘don’t make a fuss’.

I remember the midwife coming in and encouraging me to get up and have a shower. ‘I don’t think I can’, I told her. She ignored this and kept cajoling me.  I remember my internal narrative running its usual programme: ‘she thinks you’re making a fuss about nothing’.

So with all the effort I could muster, I managed to get myself from the bed onto a commode.  And then; everything went white. I could hear ringing in my ears, and I was overcome with a sense of peace.  Half aware of the doctors filling the room, the panicked shouts of medical staff as my blood pressure dropped lower and lower. Feeling like a pin cushion as they tried and failed to put drips in my hands and arms.

I was only half conscious, partly aware of what was going on, like a poorly tuned radio trying to pick up signal.

‘Amanda.’ They said firmly. ‘We need you to get back on the bed.’

‘For f*cks sake,’ I thought. ‘I didn’t want to get off the bloody bed in the first place.’

How I managed to get back on that bed, I’ll never know. I remember hanging off the edge of it, exhausted, telling them ‘you need to give me an epidural or spinal or something, I can’t do this anymore’.  It turns out I was bleeding internally, yet no one could predict how serious it was.

‘I knew it’ I said (to myself as much as anyone else in the room.) ‘I knew something was wrong’.

And that was my first initiation into the power of my intuition.

If this story has touched you, please do not hesitate to reach out to me.