Part II: My C-Section Woes

Photo from my C-section

Part I can be found here.

Long before I was pregnant with Joe I was anti-cesarean section. Maybe the word “anti” is too harsh. I simply wasn’t a fan.

I used to always watch A Baby Story on TLC. I loved reading, watching, and seeing everything motherhood related- including pregnancy and childbirth. However, if the episode featured a woman having a repeat c-section I would change the channel. A c-section just doesn't make for a good story. You don't see characters in movies or TV having c-sections. C-sections can be so boring and anti-climactic. (I stress the word usually. I’ve heard some hum-dingers about some emergency c-sections.) Whenever I would hear of someone I knew having a c-section, I’d think, “What a bummer.”

When I became pregnant I poured over pregnancy books and magazines. I very arrogantly skipped over the parts covering c-sections. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of having one. I focused on the nitty gritty parts of the labor process- the stages, the pain, what happens to the woman’s body and what happens to the baby. That was the interesting stuff. That was the stuff I wanted to experience.

My first fear when the doctor guessed I was going to have a big baby was not “Oh my goodness… a big baby means there is going to be tons of pain!” My fear was, “Great, now there is a bigger chance at having a c-section.” I was very apprehensive. Ryan was even getting nervous. He hated the thought of me having a c-section.

The Birth I Wanted. The Birth I Pictured.

From Day One of my pregnancy I wanted a natural birth. I know a lot of people thought I was crazy for wanting that, but that’s just what I felt most comfortable with. I did not want an epidural, but if worse came to worse I would get one if that meant I could deliver vaginally.

This might sound kind of masochistic, but I actually wanted to experience the pain of contractions. I wanted to feel what God made my body to do when it came to giving birth. I wanted to have the same experience as my mother did, and her mother before her, and so on.

I had seen births on TV and in our childbirth class, but nothing compared to seeing it happen in person. Long before I got pregnant I went to visit one of my best friends, H, while she was laboring in the hospital. I came to visit her very shortly after she had been induced, and planned on staying about 30 minutes. She was in good spirits. I even walked around the hospital with her and we caught up on our gossip. Very soon after I got there her contractions started picking up. Instead of leaving, I stayed there and held her hand through every contraction while her husband had the job of continually rubbing her lower back. She did not have an epidural and I saw all the pain she endured, but she labored beautifully. I was planning to leave when she started pushing, but everything happened so fast and I was holding her hand while she delivered her first-born son.

I cannot describe how amazing this experience was. I saw it happen, just as God designed it. It was so incredibly beautiful. I marveled at how my dear friend had used her body to bring her child into this world. I had chills as tears of happiness streamed down my face. It was the grace of God, and her blood, sweat and tears that got her to the point to see her baby.
I wanted that. Exactly that.

I wanted to feel my water break. I wanted to lose my mucus plug. I wanted that nervousness and uncertainty of “Is it time?” and calling the doctor. I wanted that exciting drive to the hospital, where Ryan and I realize that the next time we are in the car we wouldn’t be alone.

I wanted to labor. I wanted to feel the contractions. I wanted to use a labor ball (which is what my friend H used and it seemed to work very well for her.) The hospital that I labored at offered a laboring tub (not a birthing tub) and I was very open to trying that. I wanted my husband there, rubbing my back, encouraging me. I wanted a doula to walk me through the process. I wanted my iPod- I had even written a post asking for music suggestions and I had it ready to go with hundreds of songs.

I wanted the exciting/scared/anxious feeling of getting my cervix checked in hopes I would have progressed. I wanted to feel all the stages of labor.

I wanted that “Oh my gosh, here we go…” feeling when the nurse told me I had reached 10 cm and she was calling the doctor. I wanted to feel that scared feeling. I wanted to feel the adrenaline. I wanted that excited feeling of finally getting to see my son face-to-face.

I wanted my husband to be there holding my hand, and my mom on the other side also holding my hand. I wanted to push, push, push, push. I wanted to feel my baby leave my body. I pictured looking down and seeing this ooey, gooey, bloody baby who happened to be the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. I wanted to be one of the first ones to lay eyes on my child. I wanted my baby laid on my chest. I pictured him laying there crying, me sobbing hysterically and cradling his warm body next to mine. I pictured my husband crying, as well as my mom. I pictured beauty, happiness, a sense of peace. I wanted to be the first person (besides the doctor) to hold the person I had been carrying for 9 months. I wanted Ryan to get to cut the cord.

I wanted to hold my child seconds after he had entered the world. I wanted to marvel at him, cry with him, and comfort him. I wanted that moment. I know the whole labor and delivery process is long, painful, and difficult, but I wanted it all. I wanted to feel what my body was designed to do. The birth of a child is a huge, life-changing and momentous event in a woman’s life. It is a key factor in transforming a woman into a mother. My heart ached for this feeling long before I was even married. It was part of my vocation to be able to give birth naturally.

Holding on to Hope

My hopes and dreams for the birth of my child were not meant to be. As soon as my doctor mentioned an induction I knew that meant the possibility of having a c-section was increased. I knew the chances were even greater because my blood pressure was so high. But I still held onto the hope that I could deliver naturally.

I was induced Tuesday evening. They placed Cytotec in my cervix and the waiting game began. I was placed on a fetal and contraction monitor. The nurse said I was having regular contractions and I should be feeling them. I didn’t feel a thing during the entire process. I might have felt one slight twinge, but that could have been gas for all I knew.

I was checked a few hours later. No progress. I was checked Wednesday morning- still nothing, so we tried another round of Cytotec. They also tried Pitocin. I was then placed on the magnesium sulfate that I mentioned in my pre-eclampsia post to prevent me from seizing due to my sky-rocketing blood pressure. The bad thing about being put on this stuff was that magnesium sulfate is also used to prevent women from going into premature labor. So here I was on Pitocin to get me to go into labor AND the mag that prevents labor. Which one would win out? I held onto the hope that the induction would work.

I didn’t feel any of the contractions. I felt nothin’ “down there.” But I suppose my “labor pains” came from the magnesium sulfate. My face was on fire and my whole body felt flushed. I felt sick to my stomach and had aches all over my body- like having a fever. It felt like a bad hangover and still feeling loopy. The worst part was I wasn’t allowed water. I was barely allowed ice chips. I was so so so so so so so very thirsty. I was getting fluids from the IV, but I just wanted something to quench the bone-dry thirst in my mouth. I also wasn’t allowed to eat so I was starving. It was torture. The room was pretty much as cold as it could be and I was still beyond hot. Ryan kept putting ice cold wash cloths on my head, but the refreshing coldness would only last a minute or two.

My labor pains also consisted of being on bed rest. They had to insert a catheter which was also torture. It was such a painful and uncomfortable feeling. It took a couple hours for me to get used to the catheter. I hated being confined to the bed. I couldn’t lie on my back because I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lie on any one side for too long, but in order to roll on my other side I had to call a nurse in to help me switch the blood pressure cuff that was now a permanent fixture on my arm. The annoyance of bed rest and the extreme uncomfortableness of being on the magnesium sulfate got worse and worse throughout the day.

That afternoon I was checked again and still nothing. The nurse informed me that the doctor would probably come in and suggest a c-section. I broke down in despair. Thankfully, my doctor was understanding and said he would allow me to continue the induction overnight and see what happened.

I was so relieved. I felt I had few more hours of hope that the Pitocin and Cytotec would do its job. I begged God that a miracle would happen. Miracles happen all the time, right? It wasn’t like I was asking to have my sight or hearing restored. I just wanted a birth the way God intended it.

Wednesday night was horrible. I got absolutely no sleep. The mag was killing me. The bed rest was killing me. I was completely uncomfortable. I started to despair every time the nurse came to check on me and I hadn’t progressed at all. All hope for the birth I wanted was lost. Around 4:00 a.m. I was tempted to have the nurse call in my doctor and just get it all over with and get the c-section. What was the point of waiting?

When my doctor came in to check me around 8:00 I prayed and begged that some miracle had occurred and I would have progressed some. No such luck. As soon as Dr. M checked me he said he didn’t want to wait any longer. I unhappily agreed.

Dashed Dreams

I didn’t really have time to be afraid or nervous. It took about 20 minutes from the time Dr. M said, “C-section” to the time I was wheeled into the O.R. Thankfully in that short amount of time my priest came by and prayed with us and gave us a blessing. I am convinced that God sent his grace over me and I was at peace. I was still very emotionally numb. I wasn’t even excited about finally getting to see my son. It was like I was going down to get an ultrasound- nothing felt special.

I remember being wheeled into the O.R. It was so bright and cold. Very steel-y. Everyone there was in scrubs, surgical masks and hairnets. I couldn’t tell who was who. I could barely recognize my own doctor.

Everything happened so fast. I got my spinal block, was laid down and before I knew it they said they were cutting. They warned me as they were getting Joe out that I would feel a lot of pressure and tugging. I did not feel one single thing. I heard Joe’s little cry and tears filled my eyes. They didn’t lift Joe up over the sheet that was blocking my view from my innards- they took him straight to get him cleaned up. Everyone else in the room got to see him before I did.

Less than 30 minutes ago I was wheeled into the O.R. Now I had a baby. I just laid there in shock listening to the nurses talk about Joe and listening to him whimper. I started getting the shakes and feeling very queasy. Finally they brought Joe to me. Before I could get all emotional I started to vomit. Great… my son sees me for the very first time and I’m barfing all over myself. Nice.

I believe I would have handled my c-section a lot worse than I did if it weren’t for the awesome post-op policies the hospital had for c-sections. Most hospitals require the woman to recover in a separate room and she isn’t allowed to hold her baby for about an hour after the c-section. The hospital I was at believed it was very important for the woman to develop a bond with her baby as soon as possible. I recovered in the comfort of my hospital room and was able to hold Joe as soon as they put the brakes on my bed after they wheeled me in. No visitors were allowed for an hour while I recovered. It was just my nurse, Ryan, Joe and I. I am so thankful for that experience. I didn’t really have time to think about my lost birth plan. I soaked in that precious hour with my new little family.

However, my happy feelings dissipated as the afternoon came on. I was suffering from bone-crushing exhaustion, dealing with my nervousness and uncertainties with breastfeeding and handling this new little baby and my still sky-high blood pressure.

The days following Joe’s birth were filled with bitterness and fear. All I could think about was my c-section and blood pressure. I remember the first time I got to walk the halls after finally getting off bed rest and hearing the nurse talk to someone on the phone She was asking the caller how far along she was, how far apart the contractions were, if her water had broke, etc. I remember hearing a woman in the room next to me delivering her baby. I heard screams, yells, coaching and soon the cries of a new born baby. My heart broke. I felt sick to my stomach with sadness.

I wish so badly that things would have turned out differently. I wanted to be the woman who called in with contractions. I wanted to be the woman who screamed out in her labor pains. Why didn’t I get that experience?

Thankfully Dr. M did a very good job with my c-section. Many nurses exclaimed how wonderful my incision looked and bragged that Dr. M was one of the best c-section doctors they had ever worked with. My incision was healing nicely and I didn’t really experience any pain.

The days following my release from the hospital were difficult. It was hard enough adjusting to the new role of mommy, but I just could not shake my sadness of having a c-section. More than one person said to me, “Sorry you had to have a c-section.” Sorry? Aren’t we supposed to be having feelings of happiness and elation over the birth of a baby? People were “bummed”… just like I used to be when I heard of a woman I knew having a c-section. I hated that negative feelings were tacked on to the birth of my son.

Thankfully I didn’t experience much pain from the surgery and healed quickly. Breastfeeding was going very well for Joe and me, so I was thankful for that. I would have been much more messed up if I didn’t have those bright spots in my life.

The weeks following Joe’s birth were chalk-full of post-partum hormones. That added to the crushing sadness. One of my best friends called me soon after Joe was born to see how I was doing and how I liked being a new mom. I immediately burst into tears and all I could talk about was how sad I was at having a c-section. We couldn’t talk long because Joe started crying in the other room. My friend was probably thinking, “Thanks, baby! You got me off the hook from talking with your crazy mother!”

There were times I couldn’t stop thinking about my c-section. I would re-live it in my head over and over. When I would shower and wash over my scar I would think about how I felt like I had been slaughtered like a cow. I was so angry that things didn’t work out. I had begged and pleaded with God in the hospital to let me birth naturally. Why didn’t God answer my prayers? God does the impossible- couldn’t he just let me have the birth I wanted? I started feeling very resentful towards God. I was also resenting other women's experiences of giving birth naturally. There were women I knew that had serious medical complications, women who were pregnant with twins, women who were skinnier than a board who were able to deliver naturally. Why the hell couldn’t I? I couldn’t read anybody’s birth stories on blogs and it was very difficult to hear other women’s stories as well. I remember reading all these awesome, heart-warming stories of peaceful births while I was pregnant and ached for those experiences. My heart raged with envy and sadness.

My sadness developed into fear. I was now severely limited to how many children I could have due to having a c-section. I don’t really feel called to have seven or eight kids, but I’d still like to have a hand-full. However, since the chances of me having repeat c-sections are very high, having a lot of babies puts me at risk. I immediately thought that God didn’t think I had it in me to be the mother of many children and this was his way of stopping it before it happened. I felt like a failure as a woman. My body had failed me and I was afraid it was because I didn’t take very good care of myself. If only I had not eaten such crappy food and exercised more and drank water. Then I wouldn’t have gotten pre-eclampsia and I wouldn’t have had to endure all this. I played the “What If” game constantly.

It’s one thing to go into labor and push for hours and hours and not progress and then have to have a c-section. But I didn’t get any of that. No water breaking, no excitement of dilation, nothing. I felt no labor pains whatsoever. I didn’t even come remotely close to having to push. I didn’t even feel the pressure when they took Joe out of me. The only pains I got were from the magnesium sulfate and I think I would have rather dealt with the contractions. I didn’t experience one iota of the birth I wanted. It wasn’t fair. It was like I went to the hospital to get treated for high blood pressure and I got a baby out of it.

Many people tried to make me feel better. “Now the next time you have a baby you can pretty much pick the due date!” That doesn’t make things better at all. It’s like saying, “Hey, your dog just died, but next time you want to get a dog you can pick out any kind you want!” My sister, who also had a c-section, said to me, “Oh, c-sections are the way to go. No contractions or pushing! It’s great!” Well, considering I’m the freak that wanted all that gory painful stuff, that was a no-go in the feel good department. I appreciated people attempting to cheer me up, but it just wasn’t working.

I was starting to get a little worried about myself. Why was I so upset about having a c-section? Did I need therapy? Was I going crazy? I did a little research online and learned that there are many women out there who suffered the same feelings of disappointment and sadness over their c-section. These feelings come close to post-traumatic stress disorder. I was relieved to have my feelings validated. It didn’t lessen the pain, but I took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone.

10 ½ Months Later

Each day the pain has lessened. I am not thinking constantly about my c-section. I focus on the good part of my c-section- my perfectly healthy baby boy. C-sections are performed for a reason. If I didn’t have this surgery Joe and I could have died- that’s how bad my blood pressure was. It wasn’t like Dr. M was getting impatient and had a 1:30 tee time- this had to be done for the sake of our health. I should be thankful for this medical technology because if it weren’t for a c-section things could be a lot worse. God not only designed our bodies to give birth naturally, but also in a way that a child could be born in another form to save the life of the baby and mother.

I often wonder if I would have been able to deliver Joe if I wouldn’t have gotten pre-eclampsia. Joe was 2 weeks early (one of the nurses thought he was actually 3 weeks early) and he was basically 9 lbs. How much more would he weigh if he cooked a little longer? Could I have managed delivering a big baby since I am so short? A friend of mine told me that one of her close friends was against any kind of drugs or monitoring or c-section and her baby actually died in the birth canal because she was smothered. The thought of that happening scares me to no end.

Sometimes my scar will itch, or I’ll notice the skin around my scar is still slightly numb and I will re-live it all over again. This scar will be with me the rest of my life. My uterus- my precious womb- where my future children will be conceived and beautifully developed now has been defiled with a scar.

I often feel at odds with myself. I can’t believe how unbelievably upset I was over having a c-section. I have a healthy baby- isn’t that all that matters?! But don’t I have that right to mourn the loss of the birth I wanted? Pregnancy, labor and delivery might not be a big deal to some women. It’s just part of life. But to me, it is something I looked forward to and believe to be a huge part of my life and vocation. But then again, some women who ache for a baby of their own would gladly have c-sections if it meant holding their own child in their arms. Women have miscarriage after miscarriage. Women have stillborn babies. How selfish am I to be to mad about not getting the birth I wanted? It’s a constant war within my heart.

I am not as upset about having a c-section as I was when Joe was first born. I’m sure the nice post-partum hormone cocktail I was served didn’t help matters any. The sadness has worn away and it is kind of hard to describe my feelings now. My c-section haunts me every so often. It's still hard to read birth stories, but the envy is fading.

VBAC Hopes

My hopes of having a future VBAC (Vaginal Birth after Cesarean) immediately began in the hospital. I remember asking Dr. M why the induction failed. Being on the magnesium sulfate didn’t help matters any. Plus, Joe just wasn’t ready to come on down. He was still very high while still inside me and was happy on staying that way. I asked him if he thought I could have VBAC someday and he thought it would be possible since it seemed my pelvis would be wide enough to deliver. He informed me that he didn’t do VBAC’s since the hospital wasn’t equipped to handle that big of procedure and that I would have to go to a bigger hospital.

He seemed to change his tune at my 6 week post-partum check-up. I asked him what he thought about VBAC’s. His immediate response: “I don’t like them.” Followed by, “My wife had 2 of them after our first born, but that was when I was a resident.” Oooookay??? So, when you are resident your super-human doctor wisdom hasn’t come in yet? Dr. M is a wonderful man and doctor; I just don’t think he likes to give negative news. He said his wife said in hindsight that she just wished she would have had repeat c-sections. If she really thought that then why did she have TWO VBAC’s? He also said that I’m always going to have big babies and that I probably won’t be able to deliver naturally. I don’t really know what to believe with him. However, I don’t live where he practices anymore, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I am currently researching here and there about VBAC’s. I’m thinking about joining my local ICAN chapter. I want to educate myself on both sides. I refuse to be pulled into the polarizing debate over giving birth. I’m not one of these people who think that hospitals and doctors are evil and doctors push for c-sections so they can get more money to install a tennis court in their backyard. I believe there are genuinely caring hospitals and doctors who want the best for their patients. I am not anti-c-section. But I don’t think that VBAC’s are a horrible option that will automatically result in death. I might be mistaken, but I think I read somewhere that Michelle Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting fame has had multiple c-sections and VBAC’s. Her uterus hasn’t exploded or fallen out, so that gives me hope. I’d like to set up camp moderately between these two differing sides.

The thought of having a VBAC is scary. I wish I wasn’t in a position to decide between putting myself in a situation where I could lose my life and baby or having a procedure that devastates me and can also put my life at risk. I wish it would have all gone the “normal” way the first time.

I prayed to God shortly after Joe was born to guide me in this decision to have a VBAC. Some days I’ll be driving a long and I’ll just say, “God, give me the wisdom to make the right choice on having a VBAC if I ever get pregnant again.” I haven’t had any clear-cut answers, but I’m really hoping he gives me an answer when I need it the most. I’m hoping for success. I went to a general doctor’s appointment a few months after Joe was born and the doctor there mentioned that Dr. M did an awesome job with my c-section. She said the scar was very small. I’m hoping that will be a good factor in a successful VBAC.

I wonder how I will feel if I do attempt a VBAC and still have to have a c-section. Will I be even more devastated? Or will I be satisfied in knowing I did everything I could and tried with all my might to have the birth I wanted? How will I feel if I have a successful VBAC? Will it be an even more rewarding experience than if I would have delivered normally the first time?

While I still get sad from time to time about having a c-section, I do believe that God has a plan. I gave him the control and this is what happened, so it must be for the best. I know it is for the best because as I type this post, with tears in my eyes, I lay next to my son. My perfect, healthy baby who came to me in a way I didn’t want or expect, but still came and changed my life for the better.