A Mommy Story

One post at Blogging Baby really struck chord with me today. Dutch wrote about the site of an anonymous artist, cesarean-art.com. The artist is a woman who has had two c-sections – the first being necessary, and the second mandatory and unwanted because her doctor would not let her try for a VBAC. No medical reasons – the doctors in the area simply didn’t support VBACs.

Curious, I clicked on the link to view more of her art. And I was floored. The intense images I was greeted with were both horrific and beautiful. I could feel her pain and anger coming through each drawing. Most of all, I sympathized with her.

It still amazes me that women would choose to have a c-section for a normal pregnancy. I’m not saying you don’t have the right – you have all the right in the world to choose your delivery, but personally I think someone who schedules a c-section for convenience is crazy.

Vaginal birth has been around forever, while c-sections are relatively new. Sure, there are cases where a vaginal birth is not possible, and then a c-section is medically necessary. After all, fewer women die in childbirth today thanks to the c-section. (And better sterile conditions, but that’s beside the point.) Cordelia was one of those medically necessary cases. She was a complete breech, making a successful vaginal delivery risky at best. For her safety, the C was the way to go.

But a c-section is major surgery. There are risks of clots, risks of infection, risks of bleeding out, and risks of pneumonia if the fluid in the baby’s lungs isn’t suctioned properly. The healing time is longer and more painful. You never realize how much you use your ab muscles until you have them sliced. Suddenly the most simple of movements – turning to the side, coughing, laughing – become major endeavors.

Many hospitals and doctors are ridding themselves of the option of a vaginal birth after a c-section (VBAC). There is a slightly higher risk of uterine rupture with a VBAC, which makes the VBAC about as risky as a c-section. But many doctors don’t like uncertainty – they like to have control of the situation, and a scheduled surgery is far more controlled than a naturally laboring woman, so they prefer to push for the c-section. Hospitals, knowing that vaginal births are far more unpredictable, don’t like the liability factor, and so they ban VBACs to keep their insurance down.

My heart goes out to this artist. She was not given a choice, and had to suffer through a repeat c-section because it was more convenient for others. As someone who has had one medically necessary c-section, the thought of being forbidden to have a VBAC terrifies me.

For those of you who have never experienced a c-section, let me describe my experience. First I was suited up in the hospital gown, and the IV was started. Then I was taken to the OR, alone. Aaron was not allowed to be in the room with me while I received my spinal. I was surrounded by a group of strangers, hidden behind masks and gowns, in a freezing cold room. Nothing about this said natural. Once the procedure started, Aaron was brought in. A drape blocked my view of anything past my breasts, and my arms were strapped down to boards to prevent any possible “outbursts”. I couldn’t even wipe the tears out of my eyes.

I had no idea what was going on. I’d occasionally ask, “Is she almost out?” and one of the mask-people would tell me no. Finally, they asked Aaron to stand up and look over the drape to see our daughter born. Even though I begged for them to take the drape down for me to see that moment, swearing that I had a strong stomach and grew up hanging out in a hospital and could handle anything, my request was refused. I did not get to see my daughter brought into this world. I heard her first cry, and caught a quick glimpse of her as they whisked her past me to a baby warmer positioned behind me, where I was unable to see her.

Aaron joined Cordy, and after several minutes she was wrapped up and brought to me. My arms were still strapped down, so I couldn’t touch her. And just as the reality of her presence was beginning to sink in, she was taken from me. “You’ll see her after the surgery!” the nurses told me as she was wheeled away. I told Aaron to go and be with her.

The remaining 30 minutes in the OR felt like an eternity. I was left alone, wondering how my daughter was doing, wondering if she knew how far away from me she was. Once the surgery was complete, I was wheeled to a recovery room, to sit and wait for the feeling in my legs to return.

My mom was there to sit with me, having already seen Cordy. Everyone had been able to look at her longer than me. And now I was stuck one entire floor away from her, unable to see her until I had full feeling in my legs. It was our first separation, and it was more than 3 hours until I would get to hold her for the first time. 3 long, lonely, languishing hours.

Others c-section stories vary, but from the many I’ve talked to, mine is fairly par for the course. We won’t even get into the pain I was in from the surgery. But while the memory of the pain has faded, the memory of being intentionally disconnected from my own childbirth, being kept from my little girl for so long, and the extreme feelings of sadness and anger I had for being deprived of the birth experience I wanted to have are still there. Some people say, “What are you complaining about, you still got a healthy child!” Yes, but we didn’t get the start I wanted.

Cordelia was a stubborn child, but a part of me still wonders if our breastfeeding relationship might have got off to the right start had we been together sooner. Maybe she wouldn’t have cried so much in the beginning had I been there those first 3 hours to show her that the world was a safe place, and not a cold harsh place full of poking, prodding hands.

I am thankful to this anonymous artist. She’s helped me deal with my own negative feelings surrounding my c-section. For those who have read this all so far, I say kudos to you for being such troopers. I know this is a sad and depressing post, but it feels so much better to finally express how I feel. I love my daughter more than anything, and I’m so grateful to have her, and I know that in my case a c-section was the best choice. I have these negative feelings and my scar, but they are a small price to pay to deliver Cordy safely.

But I also now know how hard I will fight for a VBAC when the time comes. Seeing the resistance others have faced, while remembering my first experience makes me even more determined to see it through. Barring any medical emergency, my next child will be a VBAC. I will participate in birthing my child, I will hold that child right after he/she is born, and I will not let anyone try to talk me out of it for their convenience.