Why I opted “in” to a planned c-section
On the surface, the birth of my first child could be described as a train wreck.
Two days before my due date, my water broke at 10 p.m., right as my husband and I were about to go to bed. Cue all of the panic. We knew my water breaking meant a clock had started: we had 24 hours to get this baby out.
CityMom Hannah meets her son, Jack.
At triage, they told me I was barely dilated but expected things to move quickly. We settled into our room by midnight and too anxious to sleep, put on The Office to pass the time. Then, we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
11 hours later, they gave me Pitocin. Two hours after that, an epidural. At the 22-hour mark, things took a turn. Our baby’s heart rate started to drop, I spiked a high fever and still wasn’t fully dilated. My husband, doula, and I all knew what this meant: A c-section.
Going into labor, a c-section had been my worst fear. My mom had told me stories of the births of me and my two siblings, each one terrifying, and two ending in c-sections. When the doctor told me I needed one, I burst into tears the minute he left the room. I pulled the anesthesiologist aside and told her I was having a panic attack. My husband took my hand and told me to breathe.
Every mama’s story matters. Read Kristi’s here.
About an hour later, our baby boy Jack was born – and he was a whopping 9 pounds, 8 ounces, pulled out of my five-foot-one frame. The on-call doctor held him up over the surgical curtain, looked at me, and said, “Yeah, that was never going to happen.” He wasn’t wrong – and we all laughed despite the chaos.
When my actual OB – Emily – came into my room the next day, she told me that there was no reason I couldn’t have a vaginal delivery if we had another baby. Looking over at my massive newborn – knowing that subsequent children are often bigger – I raised an eyebrow, and said, “Emily, come on.”
Fast forward to today, and I sit here at 32 weeks pregnant, knowing that this time around, we’ll be going straight into the OR for a second c-section, to birth a baby that’s measuring even bigger than Jack. When we announced the pregnancy to our family and friends, one of the first questions many asked was, “Are you going to try for a natural delivery?”
The question always struck me as odd because, first, it’s really nobody’s business, and second, why does it matter how a baby comes into a family?
As a parent to an almost-three-year-old, the way he arrived is the least important thing about him – and among the least important things about my journey as a mother. I’d much rather talk about the first night home alone with him after the hospital, or the struggle that was breastfeeding. I’d rather talk about navigating toddler tantrums and that feeling of victory when he finally slept through the night.
Speaking of things not to say when someone announces their pregnancy - here are 5 more.
The truth is, when the surgery was over, it didn’t feel traumatizing. I didn’t feel like a failure, or like I’d “missed out” on something. I know that some women mourn the birth they didn’t have, and to do so is completely valid. For me, it felt like we both had the birth that we needed, that brought me Jack. How could I mourn anything that brought him to me?
This time, I feel much more confident in this process. Oh, it’s been an even more harrowing pregnancy, full of complications and surprises. But if Jack has taught me nothing else, it’s that the only “right way” to do birth (or really anything as a parent) is to do it the way that makes sense for you and your child. No one on the outside matters.
For us, a scheduled c-section makes sense. Making that choice has felt like honoring the boundaries of my body and giving this new baby a – hopefully – less fraught start in his or her first days with us. I’m grateful for the option, and I trust in this choice.
