Born into Trauma, Rising into Resilience: Navigating the Lifelong Effects of Birth Trauma

Have you ever heard something so profound, so perfectly resonant, that it felt like someone reached into your chest and put words to the silent feelings you've carried your entire life? That's how I felt listening to Mel Robbins' conversation with Dr. Gabor Maté about the deep, intrinsic connection between mother and child at birth.

Dr. Maté explains that birth, as nature designed it, is orchestrated through a cascade of hormones - a cocktail of oxytocin, opiates, and chemicals that form an unbreakable bond between mother and child. It's nature's way of giving us our very first experience of unconditional love, safety, and belonging. Yet, when this natural process is interrupted - be it through medical necessity or emotional turmoil - it can leave a lasting wound on the soul of a newborn.

Listening to this, my heart quickened, and suddenly my own story began to make sense in ways it never fully had before.

You see, my entrance into this world wasn't soft, nor gentle. It wasn't filled with that cocktail of connection Dr. Maté describes. Instead, I arrived amidst turmoil and trauma, to a mother who was not only physically separated from me but emotionally unable to love me. At just three days old, I was abandoned. I never felt that skin-to-skin bond, never synchronized my heartbeat with hers, never experienced the comfort of her warmth, her scent, her voice as my safe harbor. It would be months in the hospital and foster care before I felt the loving touch of a person who truly loved me unconditionally.

For years, I've struggled to articulate why I felt this lingering ache, a sense of missing something fundamental - an invisible wound that no one else seemed to understand. People often can't relate to these feelings, saying, "But you were just a baby, you can't remember." But what Dr. Maté illuminates so beautifully is that our bodies remember. Our souls remember. Our hearts remember. Trauma is etched deeply into our cells, long before our conscious minds can grasp it.

This concept of "extrogestation" - the critical period after birth when a baby needs continuous closeness to the mother's body - is powerful. Human babies, unlike animals born ready to walk or run, are deeply vulnerable, relying entirely on the warmth and heartbeat of their mothers to develop and thrive. When that critical bond is disrupted or absent altogether, it creates a sense of disconnection that can echo through a lifetime.

My journey has been one of navigating this invisible imprint, learning to heal, and seeking ways to reconnect with myself and others. It's not about blaming or harboring resentment toward my birth mother, who herself was suffering immensely. It's about acknowledging the truth of what happened and embracing the journey of healing, compassion, and ultimately, resilience.

Today, I choose compassion over bitterness, understanding over anger. My story isn't defined by how I entered the world but by how I choose to leave it. I use this deep, soulful awareness to empower others, to foster connection, and to remind us all of our profound capacity to heal and transform our pain into purpose.

If you're someone carrying unseen scars from your earliest days - or any days since - know that your pain is valid. You don't need permission to feel it, and you don't have to justify it. Healing begins with acknowledging our truth, embracing our vulnerability, and allowing our wounds to guide us toward deeper empathy and strength.

Our beginnings matter, yes. But they don't dictate our endings. We have the power to rewrite our stories, to heal our hearts, and to reclaim our journeys with authenticity and courage.

From my heart to yours - let's honor our beginnings, embrace our wounds, and courageously walk forward together, healing one moment, one connection, one heartbeat at a time.

If this helped you in some way, please share it. And let's continue to love each other through the stories that make us whole.

Be well my friends.  

LeeAnne

My beautiful mom, Margaret, who loved me unconditionally and completely.