I have struggled with writing this post for a variety of reasons. Sometimes when things don’t go your way, you don’t feel like sharing. My birth story with my second child was one such event that I wasn’t prepared for and tried to avoid in all ways possible.
I am going to be honest, I didn’t want to even share his birth story. I decided that I really didn’t need to. It wasn’t needed and it wasn’t really anyone’s business. I avoided this post. Then I finally came to the realization that many have probably experienced what I had, and maybe even felt the same emotions I did leading up to the day and even after the day.
LJ’s birth wasn’t any less significant, because of how it happened, and wasn’t any less of a miracle. You may be wondering, what I am even talking about, let me explain.
For a month I knew that a possible c-section was in the works. LJ was breech (head up, feet up and butt down) at 33 weeks, and then at 36 weeks, and 37 weeks, and 38 weeks, but I wanted to be in denial about it. I prayed he would turn, because I knew if he didn’t I would have to have a c-section. Most doctors don’t deliver breech babies, and honestly I don’t know if I would have been able to even if mine did. My traumatic birth with R was enough to make me believe it wouldn’t be possible. Ultimately I wanted what was best for my child.
I know many women have delivered breech babies and I felt like if I at least didn’t try I was failing as a mother. I was weak, scared and inadequate. All lies from the enemy. So I was determined to get this baby to turn, because the alternative was a c-section, which too would label me as weak and inadequate. Hear me out.
My birth story was traumatic in a whole different way. Emotionally I was drained. I felt alone and that no one understood me. No one could understand why I wouldn’t just accept the c-section and why I was so upset about having one. I feared of what others would think and say. That it was my fault the baby was breech, I ran too much, I didn’t gain enough weight. I was believing the little weeds the enemy had planted.
I cried for days, weeks about it and prayed the baby would turn. I laid on the ironing board for weeks, upside down, multiple times a day. I tried the bag of peas, and even scheduled the version procedure at the hospital, a week before the scheduled c-section. All failed attempts. The stubborn babe wouldn’t turn. He was content with being upside down. Little bugger.
My body was weak, I was in pain, and miserable. Maybe God knew that I wouldn’t be strong enough for delivering vaginally, because of all my physical pain and trauma. It was hard for me to trust what He was doing. I so badly wanted a normal labor, because I didn’t have it with R. Yes she was born vaginally, but she was born not breathing and was rushed to the NICU without me even getting to hold her or touch her. I labored for hours with her and it was scary.
So on August 26th, the c-section was scheduled (I never claimed it as “my” c-section). The evening of August 26th, I was still believing he would turn. He had a few hours to do so. Even as we were driving to the hospital at 4:45 a.m. that morning, I had faith he had turned. It wasn’t over until the fat lady sang.
Really my birth story is uneventful. There were no surprises, the date was chosen, there was no labor, no contractions, nothing. I laid on an operating table and waited for the doctor to cut me open, pull my baby out and sow me back up. While I did nothing.
I figured it out, this was why it was so hard for me to accept. I wouldn’t be doing anything. All out of my control. I didn’t get to feel contractions, go through the labor process. Experience anything. I was numbed to all feeling. it wouldn’t be the same. I felt I was missing out, and not bonding with my child.
What I did learn is that having a c-section didn’t make me a weak woman, less significant. In fact, just the opposite. I still labored for that baby for 9 miserable months.
After he was “delivered” and the anesthesia wore off, I was in excruciating pain. I was nauseous, dizzy and miserable. The pain was way worse than it was with a vaginal birth. It was horrible. The recovery was horrible and took much longer. It was so hard for me, coming home to a toddler and not being able to do anything to help. Walking was too much for a few days after the birth. My incision hurt and I was too prideful to take the pain meds. In fact, they still sit in my medicine cabinet.
So I am here to say that no matter how you birthed your child, if you used pain meds, you still endured a labor. You birthed a little miracle. You did the work. And it doesn’t matter how the baby entered the world, just as long as the baby was healthy, strong and loved. I had nothing to be embarrassed about.
I have done it both ways, and I would chose a vaginal birth any day, because of the recovery, but I will admit that laboring is much easier with a c-section. The transition for baby can be a little more difficult, but our God is a good God and faithful.
It was scary having a surgery and the body goes through a trauma. Many women have c-sections, and I now know it’s not for the weak. I shouldn’t have cared of what others might say. Little L is amazing and such a gift.
He was born at 7:46 a.m. weighing 7lbs 8oz and 21 inches long. I got to nurse him right away and hold him and didn’t get to miss any of the mom-baby bonding. The procedure took 30 minutes, the prep took longer. It was quick and easy for me, until the pain kicked in. But pretty uneventful. I felt like I was in a movie. The operating room was cold and super bright, but the team of doctors and nurses were amazing.
The beautiful baby boy made it all worth it!!
Until Next Time Be Whole and Be Fit