A few weeks ago, on Australia day weekend I experienced something no one should have to face alone: a miscarriage combined with acute psychosis. I became manic, aware that I needed help, and immediately reached out to the system I had been taught to trust. I called an ambulance and waited at home, my husband taking our daughter out so she wouldn’t see what was happening.

Three and a half hours passed. No help came. Eventually, a teacher from my daughter’s school drove me to Coffs Harbour Base Hospital. Relief, I thought—someone would see me.

An hour later, a nurse assessed me. And then… nothing. I waited the entire day to see a doctor. When I called one of the nurses at reception around 5:30 pm, I was told bluntly that no one was going to see me because “it wasn’t an emergency.”

I was in crisis. I was struggling with a severe mental health episode triggered by grief and loss. Yet the system failed me completely. The staff were unhelpful. There was no calls to follow up. Just left invisible- like this awful disease we need to carry. The only way you will get seen is if you tell them that your suicidal or are angry?

This experience isn’t just my story—it’s a warning about the gaps in mental health care for women experiencing miscarriage and psychosis. There is a dangerous disconnect between what qualifies as an “emergency” and what it feels like to be in the middle of a mental health crisis. Waiting, being dismissed, and feeling invisible during one of the most vulnerable moments of your life can have long-lasting consequences.

Women experiencing miscarriage psychosis deserve immediate, compassionate, and competent care. Waiting hours, or being turned away because their distress doesn’t meet a certain threshold, is unacceptable. Hospitals and the NSW medical system must prioritize mental health emergencies, especially for women in postpartum or post-loss states, and ensure no one is left to suffer alone.

It is clear to me that the hospital system has failed all of us. Even someone with a top private health cover, a teacher, a mother, a tax payer- there nothing.

I share my story not for sympathy, but to demand accountability, change, and awareness. No one should feel invisible in crisis. On top of this every time I call the switch board at the hospital to put in a complaint the operator puts it through, and it just hangs up after two dials.