I wish my head could tell my heart that how my babies were born does not define me… But, honestly, there must not be cell phone service in there because the message has not been received. My babies are not newborns anymore; one is 3 years and the other is 16 months old. In spite of the time that has passed since my deliveries, I still sometimes feel sad, disappointed and even guilty about the way it all went down. My sister had her first baby in February and I am so excited for her! Even so, there are drastic differences between her delivery experience and both of mine. Thus, it has been a month of grappling with stale emotions.
I grew up hearing the stories about how all my siblings and I were born medication-free and almost on the living room floor. My mom (and now sister) pushed out babies like a pro! Before having my first son, Everett, I expected I would have an equally amazing child birth experience; I was mistaken. Everett was born vaginally but not without complications and 24 hours of labor! Throughout the long labor, his heart rate would decelerate which we later learned was due to the cord being wrapped around his neck. Also, he was what the nurses lovingly called “sunny side up“. In other words, instead of being face down (with the soft part of his face on my spine), he was facing up (with the hard part of his skull on my spine) – hence the term “sunny side up.“ It was excruciatingly painful!
My second son, Judah, was born via emergency c-section. Shortly after getting checked into the hospital, my pain changed and became unbearable. Sure enough, Judah had rotated and was now also face up… those darn boys! We attempted to get an epidural to control my pain but it was unsuccessful. As I began to push, Judah’s heart rate dropped into the 40’s. You know it’s bad when a swarm of doctors and nurses rush into your room. If it all hadn’t of been so terrifying, it would probably have been cool to see a team work so well together. The call was made and in less than 5 minutes I was taken to the OR, put under general anesthesia and our son was delivered in a quick and dirty fashion. Turns out the umbilical cord was under his head so it was compressed as I began pushing. They call this funic presentation.
Due to his low heart rate and descended position, I had a T- incision. This is exactly what is sounds like – the initial incision was made horizontally but then another leg is extended upward making a T shape on the uterus. Because of the T- incision, I will never have another vaginal delivery ever again… This was a very hard pill to swallow. In fact, I am still grieving the loss.
I know it doesn’t make any sense but, in my heart, I feel defined by my birthing experience.
I feel as though it was my failure. I fall into the trap of thinking that my difficulty in labor means something about my qualifications as a mother – or a woman. I question if my body is somehow broken. I left the hospital feeling as though my c-section delivery was wrong. I replay those few hours over and over in my head and wonder if I could have changed the outcome.
The more moms I talk to, the more I realize I am not alone. Women have been having babies forever! We all share the same struggles. We all look in the mirror for the first time after delivery and think, “Lord, what have I done?!” If the struggle wasn’t with delivery, maybe it was with breastfeeding or bottle feeding; going back to work or staying home; sleep training, feelings of isolation, postpartum depression, infertility – the list goes on and on! The conclusion I have come to in these past few days (years) is that my c-section delivery was not plan B. My son was born in the exact way he needed to be. I am so grateful to have two healthy babies! I don’t make light of the fact that the end result of my deliveries (c-section or otherwise) was a success – healthy mom and healthy baby. That is all that matters.
At my postpartum follow up, I asked my midwife through tears if there was anything I could have done differently. Her eyes were full of compassion as she simply replied, “No.” I didn’t do anything wrong. I wish I could be like my mom and sister. I wish I could have rocked out my babies with ease. But if my story of difficult deliveries comforts someone else who is feeling the same way, then it is worth it. We moms need to stick together. Your delivery experience does not define you. However it happened, it was not wrong and you are not alone.
