*Updated for 2025 When a close relative—let’s call her Morgan—announced her pregnancy, our entire family was ecstatic. I wanted to hear ever
*Updated for 2025
When a close relative—let’s call her Morgan—announced her pregnancy, our entire family was ecstatic.
I wanted to hear everything.
My own pregnancy had been over 15 years ago. I was too young, too sick, and far too afraid to really take it all in. So yes—I was reliving that miracle through her. And thankfully, she didn’t mind. (I checked—I know I can get a little bossy!)
We did the whole thing:
Gushed over sonogram pictures
Tried to figure out which family member the baby looked like
Celebrated every good report from the doctor
Everyone was healthy. Baby girl was thriving. Morgan was queasy and exhausted but doing well. The father-to-be was over the moon.
It was a joyful time.
Until one conversation changed everything.
🛑 A Moment of Panic
One afternoon, Morgan shared—almost in a whisper—that she’d had a full-blown panic attack during a routine prenatal exam.
Suddenly, all the air left the room.
See, here’s what most people don’t know:
Morgan is a Survivor.
She doesn’t talk about it.
Not with friends.
Not on social media.
Not in passing.
Never.
And out of love and respect, we don’t talk about it either—not in front of her, not around people who might not know, not ever.
But that day, she opened up.
She told me the panic attacks started when she found out she was pregnant. She said her body—once again—felt foreign. Just like it did when she was being sexually violated during her childhood.
Her doctor had offered an antidepressant, but Morgan didn’t want medication. That didn’t surprise me—she’s always been careful about what she puts in her body. This wasn’t about judgment. It was about control—something she was desperately trying to hold onto.
💭 So I Asked Her the Most Important Question:
“What do you need?”
She stopped crying.
She exhaled.
And she had answers.
👑 Morgan Took the Lead
Together, we came up with a plan to carry her through this pregnancy—with power, peace, and presence.
1. She needed to feel in control.
As a survivor of child sexual abuse, control was taken from her. Pregnancy—though beautiful—was triggering. We reframed it:
Her body wasn’t being invaded.
She was generously sharing her body with someone she already loved.
This wasn’t a loss of power—it was a sacred partnership.
2. She tapped into her assertiveness.
Morgan is assertive, but like many Survivors, when triggered, she can retreat.
We talked about how to advocate for herself, and how her mother (a fierce protector) would be there as backup if needed.
3. She named her boundaries.
We went through every step of delivery and postpartum care, talking about who she wanted present—and who she didn’t.
Yes, the man who raped her is family.
No, he would not be present for this miracle.
Period.
4. She decided what to share with her medical team.
We talked about how she could safely disclose her history to her doctors, nurses, and midwives.
“You don’t have to tell everything,” I told her.
“You just need to tell enough to be treated with care.”
If she couldn’t say it herself, I offered to say it for her. Survivors deserve dignity during medical care—not shame, not suspicion, and certainly not re-traumatization.
⚠️ Note to readers: Medical professionals are people first. And people vary. Some are compassionate. Others are not.
If you’re a Survivor or supporting one, bring someone with you who knows how to advocate if you feel unsafe or overwhelmed.
🧡 To All the Morgans Out There…
You are not alone.
To every Survivor who opens her body to carry life—
To every one of you trying to stay grounded while the past tries to creep in—
To every woman who is loving a child while healing the child you once were…
We see you.
We honor you.
And we owe you better.
There is so much room to improve how we care for Survivors during pregnancy, labor, and postpartum. Not just with checklists and protocols—but with deep, soul-level understanding.
Because being pregnant is never “just” physical.
For many, it’s emotional. Spiritual.
And yes—trauma-triggering.
🌱 Let’s Talk Possibilities
Imagine if every birthing space honored Survivors from the moment they walked in.
Imagine if no one had to hide their history to receive respectful care.
Imagine if doctors were trained in trauma sensitivity.
Imagine if every mother was asked, “What do you need to feel safe?”
We can make that real.
Let’s start with listening.
Let’s start with compassion.
Let’s start with believing that Survivors know what they need.
