Reborn through motherhood
Rikki Hull has two kids, and experienced two very different births. After the first birth, she nearly died. After the second, she was reborn.
Hull is now a mother to her 12-year-old daughter and her newborn. "The first time [giving birth] was scary. and this time was beautiful," Hull says, "and I'm so happy that my kid was able to see the beautiful side."
Content warning: The following discusses topics that may be upsetting to some readers. This includes depictions of blood, self-harm, mental health, sexual abuse, and mentions of suicide.
If you are in need of support, contact the suicide prevention lifeline at 988.
Rikki Hull was rushed to the hospital. Blood gushed out of deep, painful cuts on her left arm. Her heartbeat rattled her body and rang in her ears as she sat in the passenger seat of the car. She sank in and out of dissociation, and heard the distant yell of, “How could you do this,” from the driver.
Before the ride to the hospital, before the cuts on her arm, before the ringing in her ears, Hull left her partner’s house in Red Bluff, CA, to take a walk.
She was a new mom, taking care of her baby that evening. She was overwhelmed. She started to become frantic. Fearful that she was a bad mother. That she wasn’t doing anything right. She just wanted to clear her head — to be alone. But she wasn’t granted that solace.
Her boyfriend followed her, trailing behind as she left the house.
He asked her what she was doing and why she decided to walk alone. When she told him to leave and that he wasn’t helping, he spoke the words that sent Hull over the edge.
“You’re right. You are a bad mom,” he said.
The words confirmed her worst fears. Distress took over as her hand slipped into her jacket pocket. Her fingers brushed against a knife she didn’t remember having. She began to cut into her left arm. Her vision began to blur.
“It was this clarity moment of like, I need to actually die,” Hull said.
Her partner took off his shirt to wrap around her arm. He didn’t have a driver's license, but had no other choice but get Hull in the car and drive her to the hospital.
“How dare you do this?” and “How dare you make me drive?” her partner said. Although Hull was in need of serious medical help, all he could do was blame.
That evening in 2013, she stayed the night in the crisis unit and was released the next day. She was isolated in the unit, no one would speak to her. It was part of the staffing protocol – to not talk to patients as an effort to decrease the risk of triggering another suicidal episode. Hull remembers saying, “You can’t leave someone alone in here who’s going through this.”
That was the first night she had been away from her 4-month-old baby.
She was only 18.
Maternal mental health conditions affect 800,000 families each year in the United States. Of those women, 75% go untreated, prolonging their symptoms, according to the Maternal Mental Health Leadership Alliance.
Hull was diagnosed with mental health disorders at a young age. Anxiety and severe depression consumed her childhood and adulthood. She never knew the complications these disorders could cause if she wanted to have a child.
“I was already at risk for suicidal stuff before I got pregnant,” said Hull. The hospital staff told her to watch out for the symptoms that normally accompany her mental health symptoms. She didn’t know what might happen.
Hulls support system during her second birth was pared down and intentional. Her doula continued to be a part of Hulls postpartum recovery, and fought to get her the exact care she wanted.
According to the American Mental Health Counselors Association, over 55% of women who experience depression in their lives have their first episode during the postpartum period.
Hull had attempted suicide multiple times before her pregnancy. The severity of the attempt that took place in 2013, however, was something she’d never experienced. That was the first time she had dissociated during an attempt. She was completely unaware of what she was doing.
She rarely felt support from her family growing up. Her fluctuating mental stability was a major point of contention.
When she found out she was pregnant at 17, she decided to have the child.
“It was almost alien, but I felt in my gut that this human would be so important to me,” said Hull.
The birth was a success, but not in the way she wanted. She wanted a natural birth, away from hospitals, with a midwife and doula.
She was two-weeks behind schedule and needed to be induced or else she would have to get a C-section. Going to the hospital was a last resort.
Nurses and doctors flooded into the room. Her entire family, about 15 people, were present as she was in labor. As a survivor of sexual abuse, being touched while giving birth made her uncomfortable in an already unsettling environment. All eyes were on her.
After she gave birth, her family showed her more kindness than she was used to receiving. They wanted to be close to her. They wanted to take care of her baby.
“Everyone was all about me while I was pregnant, but as soon as the baby was out of me, it was like, ‘How’s the baby? Baby’s doing good, so you must be doing good.’”
When Hull would experience a mental crisis, such as suicidal ideation, her maternal side of the family would turn to the church and pray.
She was insecure about leaning on her family after giving birth. “Not having a solid support system was a really big help in me losing my mind a bit later,” said Hull.
After she became a mom, she let her family tell her where to go and what to do. She says this shift in control made her lose touch with reality. She felt that her baby wasn’t really hers and that she didn’t know what she was doing as a first-time mother.
“I started thinking everyone was going to take my baby,” said Hull.
She isolated herself and her baby. She was scared of everyone.
About 85% of mothers, Hull among them, never receive medical attention or support after they give birth, according to AMHCA.
She tried to get her partner at the time involved with parenting. The same partner who shamed her for her suicide attempt. When things didn’t go his way, he became aggressive toward Hull. In 2013, she left him.
Her postpartum issues lasted for a couple of years after her first birth. She moved from California to Eugene in 2018 and has stayed since.
Hull’s daughter, now 12, lives with Hull and her husband. Hull hasn’t experienced a severe mental crisis for the past five years. Eleven years after her first birth, she became pregnant again and had her second child in January of 2025.
“My second birth was amazing,” said Hull.
She went to a birthing clinic in Eugene where she had a midwife and doula. It was the support system she wanted the first time around.
Her midwife and doula had been with Hull throughout most of her pregnancy, unlike her first birth when the staff in the hospital briefly met Hull in between shifts.
She got to the birthing clinic around 10 a.m.
Similar to the first birth, she had trouble going into labor. Tonic water, spicy curry and exercises were a few of the things Hull did to kickstart her contractions.
Hull said the birthing center would give her until 5 p.m. to have contractions, otherwise she would have to go to the hospital to avoid an infection.
“It was 4:59 pm and I was like, ‘Oh my god, this contraction is staying.’”
She waddled over to the tub. She sank into it with a sense of relief and excitement, ready to push. Ready to greet her baby.
“I was so fucking stressed,” said Hull about her first birth.
“And this time, I was so heard.”
A mother is most vulnerable in the postpartum stage, typically about six weeks after birth, according to the World Health Organization. Hull’s doula stuck with her after her second birth, consistently checking in and making at home visits. Her doula, support system and the control she had over her second birth were the differences between feeling uplifted and feeling out of control.
A few weeks ago, about two months after her second birth, her doula performed a binding ritual on Hull to honor her body and what she went through.
Rhythmic hums and hymns filled the room, loud in Hull’s ears, unlike the shame and taunts that filled her ears 11 years prior on the way to the hospital. Her doula, singing and chanting, used a long piece of fabric to wrap around Hull’s body.
“Thank you for the mind that pushed us through hard times.” The fabric would tighten, then release. “Thank you for the mouth that enables us to breathe.”
To Hull, this was a release she had long waited for. “A good portion of my life I didn’t want to be here,” she said.
She had never thanked herself before. Never reflected so deeply on everything that she went through as a single mother.
“I thought to my younger self, thank you so much for pushing through and getting me here.”
Hull couldn’t afford a doula the first time around as an 18-year-old waitress at Applebee’s.
As of 2023, 41 states have taken action to extend Medicaid coverage for postpartum care, with 32 states approved for funding and nine still waiting, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures.
Hull feels the hospital provided textbook general care for a person who desperately needed individualized care.
“It’s a lot more cold,” Hull said in comparison to her birthing center experience.
The cold shoulder from the hospital and her family not only affected her mental health, but taught her what she wanted for her second birth and what she wanted for her children.
“I told my mom a lot of things that weren’t believed,” Hull said. “I’m going to believe my kids.”
Hull doesn’t resent her mother anymore.
The way she was raised taught her how she wants to parent and what she wants to avoid. The mental and emotional abuse from her first partner taught her how she wants to be loved. The birth of her first child taught her how she wanted to be supported during a life-changing event.
“It’s crazy when you start talking like you want to live,” Hull said.
Suicide accounts for 20% of perinatal maternal deaths, according to the Journal of Midwifery and Women’s Health. Hull was minutes away from being a part of that 20%, 121 days postpartum.
Even after countless near-death experiences, sexual and mental abuse, lack of family support and having to grow up quickly at the age of 18, she considers herself lucky.
“I’m here. I’m healthy. I’m happy,” Hull said. Words that 12 years earlier, Hull never thought she would say.