Welcome back! I'm so excited to share with you the rest of my c-section birth story today! This is part 2 of a 2-part blog series, so if you missed the first half last week, I strongly encourage you to go read that first before continuing the story below. Make a quick jump to that post here:
https://graceupmama.wixsite.com/website/home/grace-covers-shame-my-c-section-birth-story
Ok! Now, let's dive right in to the rest of the story!
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The Day of My Scheduled C-Section
The day of my scheduled C-section came. I was physically ready to get that baby out of my body (oh, was I ever), but I wasn’t emotionally ready to have a C-section. My mom, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law were all there in the hospital along with my husband of course. Everyone was excited. I just felt nervous. I dressed into my hospital gown and washed myself again with the Hibiclens. My skin felt extremely dry and sterile. They did a quick check to make sure baby boy hadn’t turned around overnight. Of course he hadn’t. He was still sitting nice and cozy in his breech position. They told me I would go into the operating room first, they would get me ready, and then they would bring my husband in as soon as possible. I was wheeled out of the room by myself and away from my family.
FAIR WARNING: This next part I describe what my C-section was really like. If you are squeamish or just would rather not know, you should skip this next bit.
I went into the operating room and a nice young man came in to give me my epidural. The epidural pinched a bit, and then I felt a warmth start to spread down my body. I met an entire team of people in that room, and everything seemed to be whizzing around me. My doctor wasn’t there yet. I didn’t know anyone in that room. The process for getting me ready seemed to go on and on. After I got my epidural, I laid down on a very hard, cold, metal table. This was hard to do because I hadn’t laid flat on my back in months. I felt like a beached whale. I had to put my arms straight out in a “T.” A blue sheet was placed right in front of my face so I couldn’t see what was going on below my neck. The light overhead was bright and harsh. I felt a sting in between my legs. I told them I could feel something. I started to panic because I could still feel...I shouldn’t be able to feel down there, right? Was my epidural not working? They told me they had just put in my catheter and would wait a bit longer for the epidural to work. I waited some more. It felt like forever. Finally, a nice older woman, my nurse anesthetist, told me that I was ready. They had apparently just squeezed me very hard with some pliers. The doctor came in and all was set. But my husband, Nathan, wasn’t there yet. The doctor sat down and began to work. Still, my husband wasn’t there. My body began to shake uncontrollably. I didn’t know what was going on. Finally, Nathan came in. I was relieved, but continued to shake. I was ashamed that I was shaking so much. I felt like I wasn’t being brave, even though this was the easy way to give birth. Why was I shaking so much? I couldn’t form words. I just laid there and nodded in response to the questions I was receiving from my nurses.
All the while, my sweet nurse anesthetist continued to encourage me. She talked to me non-stop. She was the MVP of the group. There was so much going on. The doctor was talking too. She told me she was going to cut a larger cut than necessary. She told me I would feel some pulling. I felt it, but it wasn’t terrible. Then some grunting from my doctor, more pulling, and a pain in my rib cage that was more intense than I expected. I was thinking why is it so hard to get this baby out “the easy way?” Finally relief…and the sweetest cry I’ve ever heard. I was so relieved to hear him cry. Then some talk of the size of him. Then finally, someone asked if I was ready to see him, and they scrunched down the curtain. A click of the camera from my husband and I finally got to see my chunky monkey for the first time. And it was love at first sight. A warmth spread all over my body. He was beautiful and perfect…and huge! I caught a quick glimpse of what was the current state of my torn open body and then looked away. And that was that. My baby was whisked away to get measured, weighed, and tested. It was much too quick. I didn’t get to look as long as I’d liked. I didn’t get to hold or touch my baby.
IF YOU TOOK MY WARNING, IT IS SAFE TO RESUME READING NOW.
My husband left my side to go be with our baby. Of course he did, as he should. I lay on the table immobile. I had stopped shaking as much. I was so relieved that he was out and he appeared to be healthy. My sweet nurse anesthetist was still at my head, talking to me non-stop. She was such a wonderful distraction. I was getting sewn up now. I heard a weight shouted out—10 pounds 4 ounces! Then a height—22.5 inches! A really loud bang—someone had dropped something metal on the floor. The sound vibrated in my ears. Another cry from my son across the room in response to the loud bang. Whew--he can hear. Time seemed to pass so slowly. Then, finally, my baby was brought to me. I couldn’t hold him because of his size, but my husband put his head right next to mine. I got to whisper in his ear. Tears of joy slid down my face. This little healthy boy that I had prayed so very much for was finally here.
But I still didn't get to hold him. The doctor was still sewing me up. For about 45 minutes (I think), my husband held our son and the nurses did their things. The doctor mentioned that I had torn, despite her generous cut. He was a big baby. It wasn't until I was all sewn up and and some very strong people hoisted my limp body off the metal table and onto a hospital bed that a nurse dropped my baby into my arms with a heavy plunk. I finally got to hold my son in my arms. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.
Post-C-Section: A Rough Recovery
I stayed two nights in the hospital, which was a fairly short time for a C-section birth. I took the medicine and the pain came and went. I was walking (maybe a better word is shuffling) by the first evening. I had to shower before I left. I was too scared to look in the mirror as I stripped down with my husband’s help. I have a weak stomach when it comes to blood and guts. I was weak and wobbly and Nathan had to help me stand as I showered. But everything checked out well and we got to leave the hospital sooner than I expected. I was surprised that they were letting me leave. The nurse told me not to lift anything over 10 pounds for the first two weeks. I thought to myself, “how in the world am I supposed to do that, my baby weighs over 10 pounds!” I was worried. I could sort of get around as long as I had some assistance. I couldn’t sit up from a laying down position or even a reclined position without help. I couldn’t take care of myself, how was I supposed to take care of this baby? I checked to make sure they were giving me a prescription for my medicine because there was no way I could go home without it. They were, and, knowing that my mom would be home to take care of me, we left.
It was so good to be home. But everything was a whirlwind. My husband had to return to work within 3-4 days and many family members that had been visiting left. My mom stayed and helped, thank goodness, I couldn’t have done everything without her. We soon found out after my son’s first doctor appointment at the pediatrician’s office that he had jaundice. He had to be on the Billiblanket for over a week. This would not have been as big of a deal, except that the Billiblanket was attached by a very short and bulky cord to a large and heavy metal box. To breastfeed, someone had to be there to help me position my baby, the bulky cord connecting him to the Billiblanket, and to move the big heavy metal box closer to me. I struggled with breastfeeding at this time as well. My son wasn’t gaining weight. I had my alarm set for every 2-3 hours during the day and night. Every 2-3 hours I had to nurse, pump, then bottle feed. This went on for the first month of his life.
So many things seemed to immediately go wrong. I also got PUPPS after giving birth. If you don’t know, PUPPS is a really nasty, itchy rash that can spread all over the body. I remember telling my sister I had PUPPS. She had it with her first pregnancy. My sister is one of the most positive and optimistic people I know, but her response after I told her was “Oh no! Oh, Ali, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know how to be positive for you. PUPPS about did me in. The doctors told me it would go away after having my baby, but I don’t know when it will go away for you since you already had Roman!” …Great. Nothing seemed to be going right. Everything was harder than what I expected. I had a healthy baby, but we experienced challenge after challenge. It all added up.
It was the perfect storm for my mind to consume me with shame. I would wake up in the middle of the night and do Google searches for other moms who had posted about their experiences from having C-sections. I read article after article about the C-section stigma and about “belly births.” I searched articles for how to know you have a breech baby. I realized I could have recognized the signs…if only I had known what they were. The guilt washed over me like a 10-foot wave in the ocean. I already wasn’t sleeping much, but I was waking up and doing these Google searches and reading article after article in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, including my baby. And I’d lay in my bed and cry. I felt so down. So alone. So ashamed.
I remember the first time I talked to my friends about my birth story. We were all sharing our delivery experiences. They had both had natural births. They talked about when their water broke and how quickly or slowly things progressed. I couldn’t relate. I sat there and shared just a bit of my C-section story (it seemed so easy in comparison), but they couldn’t relate. I felt ashamed and like an outsider. I never shared how I was feeling. I never shared the emotional struggles I had in dealing with the C-section.
On top of all this, my C-section did not heal normally. I have a lot of very hard scar tissue surrounding my scar. It makes a nice little shelf, that even now, after losing nearly all of the 62 pounds that I gained, is still there. I was having major struggles with my post-partum body image. I was doing Google searches on this as well. When another close friend of mine had a C-section, it took me several weeks to work up the courage to ask to see her scar. When she showed it to me and it looked flat and normal, I told her that her tummy was going to heal nicely and would in all likelihood not look like mine (truly I was happy for her)…but then I went home and cried. All I could think of was “why me?” To this day I don’t personally know of anyone else whose C-section scar has healed like mine. My post-partum body journey was a long one and I’ll go into more detail on this later. I needed to mention it here because it is an integral part of the shame I was feeling surrounding my C-section.
There was a lot that I was feeling down about and these feelings of shame and guilt surrounding my C-section went on for over a year. Everything that went wrong—the feelings of shame because I thought I had taken the easy way out by having a C-section, the breastfeeding issues, weight gain challenges, jaundice, PUPPS, my post-partum body—I blamed it all on my C-section. I was being too hard on myself. No one was causing me to feel ashamed of my C-section except me. #graceupmama
Loving Myself Again
You’re probably wondering where my happy ending is. I told you last week that there was one. It took me over a year to accept what many people were telling me from the beginning—that God had a plan for me and that my C-section was part of it. Once I finally accepted this, I was able to love myself again.
To get to this place, it took a lot of active self-love on my part. It first felt like a lie to myself, but I eventually realized it as the truth. I listened to motherhood podcasts. I sought out advice and love from other people who had C-sections. I read my Bible. I prayed. A lot. And slowly, slowly, only by the grace of God, I got out of my drowning feelings of guilt and shame. I surfaced.
Psalm 34:18—The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Here is what I think of my C-section now: My body went to battle. The recovery after my C-section was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I am strong. A C-section is not “the easy way out.” My body is healthy and beautiful. My scar is a symbol of the most self-sacrificing thing I’ve ever done—become a mother. This journey has brought me closer to God. It brought me to my knees and God lifted me up. My body may be outwardly scarred, but my soul is more beautiful. I am more beautiful in the eyes of God.
My passageway into motherhood was not at all what I expected it to be, but it was exactly what God knew I needed it to be.
Mamas—is there some sort of shame that you are struggling with in your motherhood journey? Are you like me—is there some sort of aspect of your birth story that is causing you pain, guilt, or shame? Have you discovered how to navigate through those feelings? If so, what did you do? How do you feel now? Be kind to yourselves, mamas. And as always, go with grace.
