I can’t say being a mother was something I had always dreamed of. There was always a nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me there is no chance I can take care of a child because I can barely take care of myself. Yet there I was, lying on a hospital bed with a midwife’s hand inside me and a thin blue sheet separating me from the other expectant mothers in the room.

When people hear the term PTSD, they think of a mental health condition that soldiers suffer after witnessing horrors of war. No one really believes that it can happen to a woman following the birth of her baby. Birth is supposed to be a glorious, life-changing event when precious memories are created that will be cherished of the rest of the woman’s life. But that wasn’t the case for me.

It’s all very blurry and I missed out on bonding with my baby. For weeks after the birth I didn’t believe he was mine or that he had a name.

The next time somebody tells you that their baby's birth didn't go to plan, empathise and support her, because just because her baby is OK, that doesn’t mean she is.