I wrote this post a while ago, but didn't post it because it seems to be a little too personal. I had a mission companion, however, who promised herself she would tell me exactly how she was feeling all the time so that she didn't explode from keeping things locked up. I have found that sharing some things also spares me some emotional plaque build up. I am not as brave as she to share everything, but this post is quite real, so continue at your own risk, I guess.
2/25/11
Today I read a document that Katie Astin sent before my labor entitled Cesarean Fact Sheet. Truth be told, I did not read it before my delivery. I didn’t think I needed it. I saw it unopened today and read through it. As I read fact after fact, and reason after reason that cesarean sections did not need to be performed in so many cases, I felt a sadness come over me and felt the tears start to form in my eyes and escape despite my unwillingness to let them. I read a list of reasons that a cesarean section would be necessary and searched for my situation, but didn’t find one that fit. Truly, one of my looming fears is that my cesarean section wasn’t necessary. I felt it was at the time. I knew I wasn’t progressing and that the risk of infection for me and my baby was increasing with every passing minute due to my broken water, but here I am eight weeks later to the day, and I am still not entirely sure I could not have had my baby vaginally. My midwives told me all through my pregnancy that my pelvis was large enough and that there was plenty of room for a baby to fit through. Then right after surgery, the surgeon says that my pelvis is very small and that I will probably never be able to have a VBAC. According to the fact sheet I received whose information was taken from ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) :
“True absolute cephalopelvic disproportion or CPD (baby too large for pelvis) is extremely rare and only associated with a pelvic deformity (or an incorrectly healed pelvic break). Fetal positioning during labour and maternal positioning during second stage, most notably when women are in a semi-sitting position, cause most CPD diagnosed in current obstetrics.”
I was never diagnosed with CPD officially, but I have never had a pelvic break nor do I have pelvic deformities (yes I have had my pelvis x-rayed, and no, nothing ever came back about a deformity). What was really frustrating, though I have tried not to dwell on it, was going to my six week check up after my delivery and having my midwife tell me that I did have a really small pelvis. Really? I don’t think it shrunk.
As I read Katie’s document, I went to the ICAN website. I don’t know what I was looking for, maybe someone I could talk to to see if my situation really merited a cesarean section. I have been wanting that since I underwent surgery- just someone to validate that I made the right decision and was not just at the mercy of the hospital staff with their liabilities and “protocols”. Then I came across a page about the increased prevalence of postpartum depression in women who undergo c-sections and I read this line : “You have the right to mourn your birth and your trauma while celebrating your child. These are two different events in your life, even if they are happening simultaneously.”
I don’t know why it took that line to give me the permission I needed to mourn my birth, but I suddenly felt free to do so. I let the tears come. I cried and mourned the birth I had envisioned for months of pregnancy. I mourned not being able to use the training and the preparation I had painstakingly acquired just for this event. I mourned not being able to recognize the transition phase and not being able to push at my own pace, taking three breaths and holding the last one while bearing down. I mourned not being able to use the squatting bar. I mourned not being able to hold my child on my chest immediately afterward and put her to my breast to nurse. I mourned the fact that neither I nor my husband held our child until she was taken into a nursery, had all her tests done, was packaged and delivered to the recovery room where I had been deposited alone to shiver and pass in and out of consciousness after I had been stitched up. I mourned the fact that I was so drugged that I could not stay awake long enough to truly revel in the joy of my newly found motherhood; neither could my baby as she was drugged by the same drugs I had been given. I mourned the fact that within my first minutes holding her, I vomited from getting additional pain meds on a completely empty stomach knowing that going hungry is a formality taken by hospital staff and completely unnecessary during normal labor. I mourned that lost bonding time. I mourned not being able to stand my ground when my surgeon insisted that waiting to clamp the cord made no difference. I mourned not being able to sit up and get out of bed on my own for weeks after delivery. I mourned not being able to walk around for very long before being totally wiped out for several weeks afterwards. I mourned that normal, beautiful, empowering vaginal delivery and that triumphant feeling that I had just accomplished a miracle; that I had birthed my baby.
I have had these 8 weeks to celebrate my child and I have and do celebrate her. I love her so very much and have felt more joy with her in my arms and my husband at my side than I think I have ever felt before. But I had not mourned my birth until now. I needed to and I didn’t realize how necessary it was. I am not done mourning it. I need time to continue to do so; time to heal emotionally from it. I hope healing will happen as I continue celebrating my little Lil Pill. Her perfect little smiles do seem to have healing powers.
Today I read a document that Katie Astin sent before my labor entitled Cesarean Fact Sheet. Truth be told, I did not read it before my delivery. I didn’t think I needed it. I saw it unopened today and read through it. As I read fact after fact, and reason after reason that cesarean sections did not need to be performed in so many cases, I felt a sadness come over me and felt the tears start to form in my eyes and escape despite my unwillingness to let them. I read a list of reasons that a cesarean section would be necessary and searched for my situation, but didn’t find one that fit. Truly, one of my looming fears is that my cesarean section wasn’t necessary. I felt it was at the time. I knew I wasn’t progressing and that the risk of infection for me and my baby was increasing with every passing minute due to my broken water, but here I am eight weeks later to the day, and I am still not entirely sure I could not have had my baby vaginally. My midwives told me all through my pregnancy that my pelvis was large enough and that there was plenty of room for a baby to fit through. Then right after surgery, the surgeon says that my pelvis is very small and that I will probably never be able to have a VBAC. According to the fact sheet I received whose information was taken from ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) :
“True absolute cephalopelvic disproportion or CPD (baby too large for pelvis) is extremely rare and only associated with a pelvic deformity (or an incorrectly healed pelvic break). Fetal positioning during labour and maternal positioning during second stage, most notably when women are in a semi-sitting position, cause most CPD diagnosed in current obstetrics.”
I was never diagnosed with CPD officially, but I have never had a pelvic break nor do I have pelvic deformities (yes I have had my pelvis x-rayed, and no, nothing ever came back about a deformity). What was really frustrating, though I have tried not to dwell on it, was going to my six week check up after my delivery and having my midwife tell me that I did have a really small pelvis. Really? I don’t think it shrunk.
As I read Katie’s document, I went to the ICAN website. I don’t know what I was looking for, maybe someone I could talk to to see if my situation really merited a cesarean section. I have been wanting that since I underwent surgery- just someone to validate that I made the right decision and was not just at the mercy of the hospital staff with their liabilities and “protocols”. Then I came across a page about the increased prevalence of postpartum depression in women who undergo c-sections and I read this line : “You have the right to mourn your birth and your trauma while celebrating your child. These are two different events in your life, even if they are happening simultaneously.”
I don’t know why it took that line to give me the permission I needed to mourn my birth, but I suddenly felt free to do so. I let the tears come. I cried and mourned the birth I had envisioned for months of pregnancy. I mourned not being able to use the training and the preparation I had painstakingly acquired just for this event. I mourned not being able to recognize the transition phase and not being able to push at my own pace, taking three breaths and holding the last one while bearing down. I mourned not being able to use the squatting bar. I mourned not being able to hold my child on my chest immediately afterward and put her to my breast to nurse. I mourned the fact that neither I nor my husband held our child until she was taken into a nursery, had all her tests done, was packaged and delivered to the recovery room where I had been deposited alone to shiver and pass in and out of consciousness after I had been stitched up. I mourned the fact that I was so drugged that I could not stay awake long enough to truly revel in the joy of my newly found motherhood; neither could my baby as she was drugged by the same drugs I had been given. I mourned the fact that within my first minutes holding her, I vomited from getting additional pain meds on a completely empty stomach knowing that going hungry is a formality taken by hospital staff and completely unnecessary during normal labor. I mourned that lost bonding time. I mourned not being able to stand my ground when my surgeon insisted that waiting to clamp the cord made no difference. I mourned not being able to sit up and get out of bed on my own for weeks after delivery. I mourned not being able to walk around for very long before being totally wiped out for several weeks afterwards. I mourned that normal, beautiful, empowering vaginal delivery and that triumphant feeling that I had just accomplished a miracle; that I had birthed my baby.
I have had these 8 weeks to celebrate my child and I have and do celebrate her. I love her so very much and have felt more joy with her in my arms and my husband at my side than I think I have ever felt before. But I had not mourned my birth until now. I needed to and I didn’t realize how necessary it was. I am not done mourning it. I need time to continue to do so; time to heal emotionally from it. I hope healing will happen as I continue celebrating my little Lil Pill. Her perfect little smiles do seem to have healing powers.
