“Unfavorable cervix, I’ve seen this before; looks like we’ll have to do a cesarean. We can get you in today at 1:00... or if you’d rather try induction, we can do that whole dance but it’ll probably be 36+ hours of exhausting labor that still ends in cesarean. It’s up to you...”
I was bullied.
I didn’t want a cesarean, but the OBGYN I trusted to deliver my baby didn’t trust my body so how was I supposed to?
Can you argue with a medical professional?
I didn’t want to go straight to the hospital so I opted for surgery time of 6:00 PM.
I signed the papers.
I left the appointment defeated, crying my eyes out.
Like me, my husband didn’t think we had options. It was laid out as cesarean now or cesarean later, so why wait? 40 weeks pregnant as first time parents we wanted to meet our son!
We drove home to have lunch and get ready. I wasn’t excited, I was miserable.
This wasn’t what I imagined.
I wanted spontaneous labor. I wanted my husband and I to hustle and panic and rush to the hospital. I wanted to call friends and family with a “surprise! It’s time!” message... Instead, I couldn’t even muster up phone calls.
It made me cry to say the word cesarean.
Hell, it made my cry to text the word cesarean.
My body had failed me, so here I was, texting my loved ones that we were going to get a c-section per our doctors professional opinion.
We received prayers and congratulations.
No one asked questions.
No one advocated for me.
We received comments that weren’t intentionally hurtful, but made me cry even more:
“Oh good! C-sections are way easier!”
“You’re going to look so good in your first photos with baby!”
“Your vagina thanks you!”
But no amount of kegels can strengthen my broken heart...
My birth was traumatic.
The OR report says everything went smooth, but if you ask me it was a nightmare.
Not once did anyone stop or double check that this was what I wanted. I was just another surgery on the board.
6:02 PM
Administer epidural.
No one told me I would get a catheter...
Yes, I can feel that.
I’m going to throw up.
6:23 PM
Incision, no turning back.
My blood pressure and heart rate spike.
I shake uncontrollably.
A man uses the full weight of his body to pull open my stomach - leaning back into a full squat - while both hands are yanking my abdomen muscles apart.
I’m screaming.
6:31 PM
They used a vacuum to get Clayton out.
Tight nuchal cord.
7 pounds 1 ounce 20.5 inches. APGAR 9!
He’s perfect! Good job, mama!
I did nothing. My ability to give birth was taken from me. No contractions. No labor.
Nothing.
“Patient handled surgery well.”
That’s in the report.
But how do they know? They didn’t ask about me. I was dying inside.
I heard my baby cry, I saw his face, and I didn’t react. I couldn’t feel anything in that moment.
Maybe the epidural numbed my heart.
They placed my newborn son on me and I didn’t want him. I was sad and pissed off and I didn’t even want my baby on me.
I asked my husband to take him.
I failed. This isn’t birth.
I replay the day in my head often. It wrecks me.
I’m scarred; emotionally & physically.
Going into birth I was open minded.
Cesarean was not ideal, but I was open to it if it was necessary for the health of me or my baby. I had no opinions on epidural or birthing positions. I was just going to take it one step at a time.
I truthfully did not have an opinion on other women’s births. I don’t think other women are “failures” for cesareans. I don’t think it makes anyone else less of a mother.
This is PERSONAL.
Birth is personal.
I scrub at the 3” scar with a derma-roller. I lather on lotions and oils, but it won’t go away. It will never go away.
For 17 months this has tortured me.
As my husband and I talk about conceiving again, I am terrified for a similar outcome.
I have become obsessed with pregnancy and birth. I want to know every detail of birth stories. I want to play all scenarios out in my head so I’m ready for anything.
I believe that my story would have been different if I had an advocate; someone who was on my team, thinking clearly, and able to really ensure what happened was what I wanted (excluding life or death emergencies).
Maybe still a cesarean, there’s no way to know, but only in an emergency situation.
That’s something I could live with.
I want to advocate for women who are bullied or scared or unsure. I want to ensure their birth is a beautiful memory and a powerful experience, regardless if it results in vaginal delivery or cesarean. I want to impact families one birth at a time. I want to help.