Two copies of my birth plan were tucked inside a manila folder… the last thing I packed in my hospital bag… it sat on top of everything else, for easy access. I had poured my heart and soul into that thing… I had spent month contemplating the events that were mere moments in our future. We arrived, I handed my plan over to the nurse… and we reviewed it together. In it, a note to my medical team… “We have no idea what we are doing. I know I’m carrying a giant baby. Please just be honest with us. I understand a c-section may be medically necessary.”
After three hours of active pushing, the news came. “You can keep pushing, but your baby isn’t coming out this way without injury. Dislocated shoulders, broken collarbone… he just isn’t going to fit. My recommendation is that we get you scheduled for the OR before this turns into an emergency.”
Tears… and an overwhelming feeling of defeat. WHY? WHY CAN’T I DO THIS? ISN’T MY BODY DESIGNED FOR THIS? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Three hours of pushing has gone by… surely, just another 30 minutes would be enough time to push this little guy out, right? I remember looking at my husband… apologizing. (Looking back, perhaps he should have been the one apologizing for impregnating me with a tiny giant… my family makes little babies.) But, in that moment… he just looked at my like I was crazy. He reassured me of how awesome I was, as he stepped into his OR outfit.
I didn’t WANT a c-section. This isn’t the outcome I would have selected… but, I knew it was the best option. I was exhausted. I was terrified. Truthfully, I don’t remember much… except accusing the anesthesiologist that he was trying to kill me (because I couldn’t feel myself breathing)… and then I fell asleep.
I remember my husband walking in and asking if I was okay. “Oh my God! Is she dead?” Just what everyone wants to hear while they are already fairly convinced they are dying. The anesthesiologist must have thought we were both crazy… but he calmly explained that I was exhausted and just sleeping.
I remember blurred chatter… as if Charlie Brown’s teacher were speaking. I remember my head was turned left and Patrick was sitting on my right. Then, I assume I fell asleep. I am completely unaware of what was probably the most important and most traumatic part of my birth experience. THANK GOD.
The next thing I remember is Patrick telling me to look at our son… and I simply didn’t think I had the strength to roll my head over and open my eyes… but I did it… and as soon as I saw that adorable child… I didn’t think there was any possible way that could be OUR baby. He was just too damn cute!
Was it my ideal plan? No. Would I have done anything differently? Absolutely not.
The way your child(ren) entered this world… or your family… these are details… intimate details that weave the intricate pattern of your family bond. All people are different. All stories are unique. No one person or story is more important or better than another. In the world of parenting, we are all warriors. So long as you LOVE your child(ren)… and do your BEST to raise awesome humans… you have my unfailing support.
Post inspired by: Three Truths About C-Section Mamas