When Birth Doesn’t Go as Planned
By Tiffany Castillejo, APCC — Mental Health Therapist
Published February 1st, 2026
The Complexity of Becoming a Parent
To have children or not to have children is rarely a simple decision. For many people, the path to parenthood, whatever form that takes, is layered with complexity, uncertainty, and sometimes deep heartache. What is often portrayed as a linear journey is, in reality, anything but. For some, a positive pregnancy test feels like the opening scene of a romantic comedy. For others, it can feel overwhelming, terrifying, or even retraumatizing.
In my work as a clinician, I see how reproductive experiences, pregnancy, infertility, loss, birth, and postpartum transitions can profoundly shape identity, relationships, and mental health. These experiences do not exist in a vacuum. They live in our bodies, our memories, and our nervous systems long after the moment has passed.
There are many ways people arrive at parenthood. Some navigate infertility or pregnancy loss. Some pursue adoption or surrogacy. Some arrive unexpectedly. And no matter the path, there are often bumps, sometimes small, sometimes life-altering, along the way.
A Personal Reflection
Recently, I found myself reflecting deeply on these realities as my sister gave birth to her first child. She sent a photo of my nephew moments after he entered the world, and he looked… understandably unhappy.
I caught myself empathizing with him, imagining how comfortable he must have been floating in warm amniotic fluid, surrounded by muffled sounds like a constant white noise machine. Then, after nearly 24 hours of labor and ultimately a cesarean section, he was suddenly in a bright, loud, unfamiliar environment, being poked and prodded by strangers.
It made sense to me that he looked upset.
And then, almost immediately, another thought followed: Wait a minute! This was also an incredibly intense and painful experience for my sister.
Humor, I realized, was my way of coping with the magnitude of what both of them had just endured.
Birth Is Not a Linear Experience
Childbirth looks different for everyone. While the biological process may be similar, the lived experience varies widely. I’ve heard stories of “easy” births, but that was not my experience, nor my sister’s, nor that of many people I know.
Content Note
Content note: The following section includes personal details related to pregnancy complications and childbirth that may be difficult for some readers.
My First Pregnancy
During my first pregnancy, I was diagnosed with preeclampsia, a serious medical condition that can impact both parent and baby if left untreated. I was closely monitored and ultimately induced two weeks early.
When it came time to give birth, I was confined to my bed, attached to monitors, unable to move freely. I remember feeling a deep loss of autonomy in my body at a time when I already felt vulnerable.
I had entered labor with what I now recognize as an unrealistic birth plan: a vaginal delivery, no medication, complete control. Like many people, I believed I could will myself through the pain if I just tried hard enough.
Labor, however, had other plans.
Because of the induction medication, the pain escalated quickly. I felt everything. At one point, a nurse gave me medication intended to help me relax between contractions. It didn’t remove the pain, but it altered my perception enough that my mind went elsewhere entirely.
I vividly remember seeing leprechauns and imagining myself as a quarterback making the final play of a championship game as I pushed my baby into the world. Looking back, that dissociative quality makes sense — our brains often find creative ways to survive overwhelming physical and emotional experiences.
The labor lasted about twelve hours. I was exhausted, hungry, and emotionally spent, but relieved. Despite the intensity, I chose to do it again several years later, which speaks to the complicated, nonlinear ways we process pain and resilience.
When Things Don’t Resolve Neatly
Things, however, do not always resolve neatly.
My sister labored for nearly 24 hours before agreeing to both an epidural and ultimately a cesarean section. After birth, my nephew experienced breathing complications and required ongoing medical support.
My sister was unable to hold him right away and was discharged from the hospital without her baby.
That kind of experience carries a unique emotional weight. All of the physical pain, the anticipation, the vulnerability — without the expected moment of connection — can feel devastating. Even when outcomes improve, the emotional imprint of that separation can linger.
Birth trauma does not require a single dramatic moment. It can come from feeling powerless, unseen, afraid, or alone. It can come from plans dissolving in real time. It can come from leaving the hospital without the baby you carried.
The Invisible Scars
Childbirth is hard.
Raising children is hard.
Grieving the birth you thought you would have is hard.
And many of us are navigating these experiences quietly, carrying both visible and invisible scars.
Despite our differences, our origin stories are often more similar than we realize. We are all fighting our own battles, some openly, some silently.
If you find yourself feeling lost, overwhelmed, or changed by your reproductive experiences, you are not weak, broken, or failing. Support exists, and you do not have to carry it alone.
A Final Reflection
As a clinician, I encourage anyone struggling with the emotional aftermath of pregnancy, birth, or loss to seek connection — whether through therapy, trusted community, or specialized perinatal mental health resources.
Healing does not mean erasing what happened.
Often, it means learning how to carry it with care.