When You Dont Like Your Birth Story

I was laying on a bed, arms tied down, shaking, and anxiously awaiting my husband’s hand in mine. Little did I know he wouldn’t be allowed into the operating room. How did this happen? I read all of the books. I ate healthy, minus a few french fries here and there. I walked every day, and my legs had never looked so good thanks to all of the prenatal squats.  But, nevertheless, there I was, alone and waiting on my dreaded C-section. I had pushed like my life depended on it for 6 hours, labored over 24 hours, and to no avail. At one point, they saw his head, which lead to a disappointing, and somewhat damaging attempt of extraction by vacuum. Super fun.

Now it was go time, but first, just a routine check to make sure the epidural I had been given hours before was still working. The Dr. asked, “Amy, can you feel this?” “Yes,” I replied. This went on several times to ensure I wasn’t being dramatic, I even told them exactly what part of my stomach they were touching. After each reply of “yes” they adjusted the medication which had me feeling loopy. The last words I remember were “we have to put her under”.  Afterwards, I was told that when they went to cut, I grimaced, so that ultimately led to the decision of an emergency C-section under general anesthesia.

I woke up to family rubbing my feet and gently saying my name. When I opened my eyes it was like looking through foggy glass. Everything was blurry. A symptom of the anesthesia. My first words were, “Where is he, is he ok?” For 9 months I had carried this baby, and now he had made his big debut and I had missed it, all of it. His first cry, his first look at this new world. Others had seen him, held him, all while I was sleeping and getting put back together like Humpty Dumpty. I was reassured that he was fine and about that time my husband came in with him.

Finally, I thought, after all of this, here is that perfect moment I’ve been waiting on for 9 months. That moment when you see his little face for the first time, forget about the pain, and that unbreakable bond is formed. My sweet nurse brought him to me. “I need my glasses,” I said. “I can’t see him.” Not knowing the side effects of general anesthesia. Even up close, he was just a big, white, crying blur. No details, no connection. Because of how groggy and upset I was, I literally just laid there while the nurse situated my body to where he could nurse.

After the anesthesia wore off, my vision came around, and I was able to look at that sweet face. I did as much connecting as I could, kangaroo care, nursing, letting him sleep on my chest, but I still felt robbed. I had missed those first moments and could never get that back. It took months before I could muster up enough courage to look at the pictures my sweet family had taken of his first moments. And when uninformed and well-meaning friends and family asked about our birth story, I cringed inside.

Now let me be clear, just because I don’t like my birth story, doesn’t mean I’m not exceedingly thankful for it. I would take any experience to have my sweet boy. In the words of my Obgyn, “I had the worst experience with the best outcome.” I am also thankful that modern medicine gives Doctors the ability to perform C-sections when needed and save lives. I fully acknowledge that some parents go through unimaginable pain and cannot leave the hospital with their baby, and I pray for those parents. But, I also believe that it is ok to grieve the experience you worked towards but didn’t have, accept it, and then grow from it.

I’m writing this in the hope that another mom may feel less alone in her disappointment concerning her birth story. Maybe your “all natural” plan ended up being full of unwanted interventions, or your planned C-section gave you a painful recovery that you weren’t expecting. Maybe you suffered from post-partum and feel like it stole the joy from your first few months. Whatever the case, be encouraged to know that your past doesn’t have to dictate your future connection with your child, or your future births. My son and I have no less connection than any other mother and child I know. Also, 3 years later, I had a natural, fully conscious birth, where I was actually able to take baby #2 from my body and lay him on my chest. Yay for VBACs! (future blog post coming soon).

So take heart mamas. Be honest about your feelings, with yourself and others. Don’t let the past cast a dark cloud on your present and your future with your sweet baby. Get a healthy dose of perspective, and let it propel you to connect with your child every day, not just on their first day. I believe everything happens for a reason, and even though I wouldn’t have chosen this experience, I hope that it can be used to encourage others.