Renako | COSMOS programme, emergency caesarean, planned caesarean, postnatal support, Japanese-Australian motherhood

Renako grew up in Tokyo, spent time in Hong Kong, California and Melbourne before grounding herself on the Great Ocean Road with her husband Paul, six-year-old Kieran and four-year-old Nori. She came to motherhood at 35, a marketer by trade, a connector by nature, and someone who, by her own admission, spent her first pregnancy meticulously sourcing the perfect pram while underestimating the inner preparation that birth and postpartum would require.

“I was so focused on getting the right pram and getting the right cot and getting all the things. I wasn’t prepared as much because I was preparing so much for the things that were front-facing, consumer-facing, as opposed to what was happening internally and mentally and physically.”

She did, however, secure two things that made an enormous difference: a place in the COSMOS continuity of care programme at the Royal Women’s Hospital, and a spot in Rhea Dempsey’s birth preparation course. Both were brilliant foundations, even if labour didn’t unfold the way she’d envisioned.

Kieran’s Birth — Emergency Caesarean, Royal Women’s Hospital

At her 38-week appointment, a scan revealed Renako’s amniotic fluid was low. Within hours, the decision was made to induce. Paul was sent home to collect her things while Renako stayed, her planned farewell dinner with girlfriends quietly cancelled via text.

The balloon catheter went in. The hospital felt clinical and cold. Labour was slow, five hours of contractions with minimal dilation, and Renako, without the emotional tools she would later find through therapy, went inward. Silent. Surviving.

“I just went mute. It was a very quiet experience.”

When an epidural was suggested to help her body relax and progress, Renako agreed. But almost immediately, Kieran’s heart rate dropped. The beeping started. Code red. Within moments, Renako was on a trolley heading to theatre for an emergency caesarean, Paul’s face draining of colour on the other side of the room.

“I didn’t think of the extremity of it. I was just like, get her out safe. That was all I could think about.”

Kieran arrived safely at 2.45kg, small by Western centile charts, entirely on track by Japanese ones, as Renako would later learn. But the immediate postpartum period was hazy: a cocktail of drugs, delayed milk, a breast pump that felt mechanical rather than connecting, and conflicting advice from every direction. At day four, Renako walked to a restaurant from the city. Her scar later split and became infected.

“I didn’t have the tools then. I just went back into what my body knew, which was to survive.”

Looking back now, Renako reflects that what she experienced in the months following Kieran’s birth was likely postnatal depression, though she didn’t name it that way at the time. It took a perceptive GP, Dr Mahatma at Royal Park Clinic, to ask how she was really doing and connect her with the support she needed.

“She was the first person that asked me that in a genuine way. And I felt seen. Not even as a mother, just as a person. It goes a long way.”

Nori’s Birth — Planned Caesarean, Frances Perry House

By her second pregnancy, Renako had done significant inner work, EMDR, therapy, and a growing understanding of her own anxiety patterns. She chose an elective caesarean, partly because the gap between the babies was only 20 months, and partly because following her intuition felt more important than replicating a birth experience that had never quite been hers to control.

In a quietly wonderful twist, the Royal Women’s asked whether she’d be comfortable transferring to the Frances Perry House to free up beds during COVID restrictions. She took it as a sign from the universe and walked in on the day, calm, clear-headed, taking selfies with Paul in the corridor.

“We were just laughing as the doctor was making the incision. The mood was so different. It felt like a party in there.”

The birth team at Frances Perry had never met her but came along for the ride enthusiastically, grabbing Paul’s camera and narrating the whole experience. The only complication was a bleed caused by aspirin she’d been prescribed during pregnancy and hadn’t flagged on transfer, managed quickly, and followed by what she describes as the best can of Sprite of her life.

Breastfeeding the second time was, in her words, a walk in the park. And this time, Renako had planned her postpartum period as carefully as her first pregnancy’s nursery.

“I put so much emphasis on the prenatal phase the first time. This time I wanted a postpartum strategy.”

She reached out to Rowy, a friend-of-a-friend just launching her postpartum doula practice, and became her first client. One visit a week, nutrient-dense congee, permission to go for a walk and hand the baby over, and books brought specially for Kieran so she felt loved through the transition too.

“She just told us to go for a walk. I was like, what do you mean, go for a walk? And I’ll look after Nori. It was just being held in that space. It was incredible.”

Renako now lives and works on the Great Ocean Road, running a creative consultancy that bridges Japan and Australia, and slowly building a life that honours both her love of movement and her need to root down. She’s in therapy, sees a naturopath, has returned to running, and is, by her own description, finally following her compass rather than everyone else’s.

“I lost all of my intuition the first time around because I was so bombarded with information. Now I know: that intuition piece is everything.”

This is a rich, honest episode for anyone who has experienced an unplanned caesarean, navigated postnatal depression quietly, or is simply trying to find their way back to themselves in early motherhood.