I became a first time mommy at 27 years of age and it is indeed the best thing that happened to me after getting married to my best friend. My whole birthing experience however was exactly opposite to what I had carefully planned, printed, and prayed for 9 months of pregnancy. It was everything I was always scared of, and more.
I went to the hospital when my contractions were about 15-20 minutes apart. I had a surprisingly fast labor at least to what I was told, reaching 5 minutes apart two hours later. I was excited, nervous, and yes in pain but I could not wait to witness my miracle. That is till my midwife delivered the news that I have a breech baby and I do not have much time till they start their surgical procedure to ensure a healthy delivery. They did a quick ultrasound to confirm the breech and asked my husband and I how to proceed. My husband obviously wanted the best for both the baby and me so he said its all up to me what I wanted to do. I still remember crying tears of desperation as I half heartedly agreed to go ahead with the surgery. I kept asking the midwife and doctors if there was any other alternative and all they said was it was better not to have a natural delivery because 90% of vaginal births for breech babies may result in severe brain damage to the baby due to the risk of oxygen getting cut or the head getting stuck during delivery since the baby comes out feet first. In what I still consider the weakest moment of my faith, as a desperate mother who just wanted a normal and healthy baby after a long and stressful pregnancy (I had gone through a lot of personal loss that year) I just gave up and agreed to the surgery.
The whole process was a breeze after I was injected with the epidural and I did not feel a thing until hours later. My baby was healthy and cuddled with me as soon as his vitals were done. I stayed at the hospital for 4 days and returned on the 5th but ever since the birth I had an amazingly huge burden in my chest for not trusting myself and God enough to have a natural delivery. My husband still reassures me that I did the right thing, that it was indeed the best thing to do given our circumstances, that I am a strong mother also because I chose to breastfeed exclusively for 6 months, and at 16 months am still going strong with it ( did introduce solids and organic food to my baby at 9 months but that’s a topic for another discussion), and that the way our baby was born did not matter, what mattered was he was fine.
I agree that our baby’s well being was the primary reason I decided to go ahead with the much dreaded C section. I call it dreaded because all the fears I had regarding it came true for me. I have not been the strongest of people since childhood, have never been much sporty or even the type that could roam about shopping for hours. I am not a big fan of walking or outdoor activities. I could sit and write forever but being up and about on my feet is not my thing. I never had any sort of surgery major or minor prior to this in my life, I never even got injured even a small bit to visit the hospital before this. So for me all this hurt, and talks about my incision, and my inside healing up was not only novel, it was beyond scary. and painful. So painful!
Where I had imagined recovering in about a month post partum, it took me 4. Where I had not imagined having any issues using the restroom or just simply climbing stairs post partum, these little things were excruciatingly hard for the next couple of months. My sides hurt like they were on fire all the time. I could not turn while sleeping. And while the specialists said I’d be fine in no time my body took its time to heal. The winter was just around the corner so pediatric visits, my own check-ups, all of it was so hard. God Bless my husband for being an angel where he took extra care of me and the baby at all times otherwise I could not have survived a day without him. Physical pain really isn’t the best of pains to survive but now when I look back I realize somehow I made it and I did survive and I should be proud of myself for doing so.
My incision has left me a victory scar for life, more like the symbol of my first triumph as a mother, and a constant reminder that motherhood is not easy, it is the beginning of a selfless journey where I will always care for my baby first disregarding how much pain it will cause me. It is the symbol of love, something that my child might never understand, that in order for him to be well, his mother gave up everything she had, from her physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual self, for him. I always thought I knew what unconditional love was but it was only after my C section that I experienced it. I guess it kind of helps that it is called a “C” section, something I can rotate left and see a smiley face in so I can keep reminding myself that I may be a weak person but when it comes to being mom I showed my bravest side. It was the first and hopefully the last C I ever get in life but it has taught me things that nothing else ever could.