C-Section Confessions

2

The number of unplanned c-sections that I have had.

2

The number of times I dealt with failure over unplanned c-sections.

I know it sounds crazy. I know I may be too hard on myself, but I'm being real. I'd like to say, I don't judge anyone who has had planned c-sections, anyone who has loved their c-sections, or anyone who wonders what the big deal is. All I'm telling you is about MY OWN journey. MY OWN -isms and MY OWN picture of how I wanted my babies births to be. 

We took the natural childbirthing classes (and great classes at that). I remember doing an activity during one of our sessions about when things don't go as planned and what the most important thing should be to us. I remembered thinking that the exercise was one we didn't need. 

Things would go as planned. 

I would do this.

C-sections were for uninformed women who couldn't bear the pain of labor and didn't have enough endurance to make it happen. 

I'm not one of those women.

I know, the thought process was ignorant. Arrogant.

And absolutely ridiculous.

Child number 1. Exercises done nightly, relaxation practiced daily. Labor started on a day before his due date. This was going to be spot on. 24 hours later. No baby. Exhausted and defeated Momma. Not past 4 cm. I won't tell you the exact words that were running through my head, but it wasn't good. This child was transverse AND posterior. And no amount of labor positions would straighten him up or turn him around. My midwife recommended pitocin to strengthen my contractions in hopes of getting him in position. Strike 1 to my birth plan. And because I was already laboring for 24 hours, and my contractions were going to get stronger, we should start an epidural to get you through. Strike 2. 

6 hours later, no change, no progress, fetal distress. C-section now. Strike 3, the birth plan was out the window. 

Relief. Yes. Indescribable joy. Yes.

Lurking failure. Yes.

It haunted me for months afterwards. I would talk about it and reason it with everyone who asked. Yes, there was nothing else I could do. I trust my midwife and her guidance (still do). He came happy and healthy and that's all that matters. But honestly, I don't know if I believed all of that. My midwife was amazing and I don't feel as though she forced me into anything, I knew she did all she could to make my little man get here as naturally as possible. And while she did her job, did I do mine? 

I came to the conclusion that I did not.

I moved past Colt's birth and set my sights on Baby Number 2.

I would get it right then. I would have another chance. I would do this.

Baby Girl was late. Four days late. My contractions began just like my first. I was ready for this. I knew what to do this time. I labored through the night and on to noon the next day. It was time to go, she was close. 

She was only 1 cm.

What went through my mind at this point was neither Christian or polite.

Anger at myself turned into fear when they could barely pick up her heartbeat. No more labor. It was time to go. And go quickly we did. 16 minutes from the time my midwife called the hospital to the time I was wheeled in the OR. Strike 1-2 and 3 happened all in one phone call. No birth plan considered this time.

Relief. Joy. Excitement. Love.

Delayed failure.

It took a little while this time, but it set in about three days later. I didn't understand why I couldn't do it. 

I processed. And processed some more. And not until recently, almost 8 months later, have I realized what was wrong with this whole picture. Why I couldn't do it. Why I dealt with guilt and failure. Why this was such a hard blow.

It was all about me. 

How could I be so selfish and so self-absorbed to think that the birth of my two gorgeous children was about how great I was at childbirth. Seriously. Reading that last sentence, it's actually laughable. Instead of celebrating the miracle of having a child and rejoicing and praising God that I have two wonderful healthy (and easy) babies, I am lamenting about my so-called failure? Let's talk first world problems. Let's talk reality check. Let's talk about getting over yourself. 

So today... I'm choosing to be thankful for them. I'm choosing to thank God for doctors and decisions and that deep red scar on my abdomen. And if another one comes along and if the doors of that OR swing open for me for a third time, I will still be thankful and not view it as something to be won, but as another grand adventure.