Those mothers who complained about not getting to expirience birth were just ridiculous. After all, you're still having a baby. You still birthed a baby regardless. I was actually thinking about opting for a c-section based on my supposed baby size so the thought that I might be one of those mothers never occured to me.
My labor was induced at 39 weeks after a car wreck and because I was in constant pain while also being pre-eclamptic. I was in labor for 36 hours, more than half was hard active labor.
By the time the doctors came in to say I needed a c-section I would probably have agreed to anything. I was exhausted, hadn't slept in days, my epidural hadn't worked for more than a few hours, I was in pain from my car wreck, and the pain shooting through my stomach and back had me actually crying - which is something I absolutely don't do.
My husband isn't so great at comfort unless I ask - he's extremely oblivious - and I am not great at asking so I went through most of the 36 hours of labor alone. He was freaked out and scared when the doctor came in, more so when they rushed me from the room and into a sterile operating room before strapping me to a table.
It was quick and brutal.
I could feel them pulling around in my organs, my entire body jerking against the bonds that held me down. I was so tired and combined with the drugs they gave me I was barely able to stay awake. Even though I desperately wanted to watch. When they pulled her from my stomach I became violently ill - throwing up nothing all over the anesthesiologist. I managed a glance over at my husband just in time to see him holding Reyna before throwing up on myself again.
My daughter was pressed into my arms, blankets wrapped around us both to hold my arms in place because I was out of it and basically unable to move. Wheeled to my room where I was unable to breast feed. I couldn't even take pictures of my family holding Reyna.
Everyone left shortly after, even my husband, because they all needed to work.
That night I heard the woman next door giving birth (and why are the walls in a birthing center so thin anyway?), her husband coaching her through it, heard the baby being born and I started sobbing. Everything hit me at that point. I missed it all.
I laid in my bed while Reyna slept beside me and cried, tears coated my pillow and clogged my throat until I could hardly breathe. I felt so stupid, caring how Reyna arrived when it shouldn't matter because she was here and safe. Had I went through with a vaginal birth (unlikely) she had a high chance of death based on how she'd turned and the cord around her neck they were unaware of.
But it didn't matter.
I watched her breathe, watched her stir, and turn her face from side to side. I loved her so deeply it hurt. Yet I still felt betrayed for not having had the experience of a vaginal birth. I think part of it is that with my first I didn't have my husband. I was alone and the entire time I just wanted a husband to experience birth with. This time I had it, but I didn't.
It still bothers me that I didn't get it. That's probably not ever going to change. But that's ok, because I'm allowed to feel.
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