C-Sections

I am a C-Section mom and I am proud to be one.

I love my scar and my stretch marks because they are memories of what I did to bring my beautiful son into this world.

NOW, for some reason, people believe that women aren’t real mommies all because they have C-Sections. The way I see it is that I carried my child for 39 weeks, making me a mommy no matter how he was birthed. He was born exactly at 39 weeks, March 4, at 4:42 AM on a Sunday.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was scared, nervous, and happy. A few things happened along the way that made the pregnancy difficult, which I discussed in my blog post “Before and After Birth” and had labeled me a high-risk.

One thing that was even more frightening was the fact that I had to have a C-Section because I hated the thought of being cut below my belly… I wasn’t as scared as I should have because my whole pregnancy I had a gut feeling that that is how I would give birth.

And I did.

I was induced because of something they call Gestational Hypertension, which includes high blood pressure, I was having contractions (I barely felt them), and was 1 cm dilated.

They got me ready after admitting me and talked to me about all the different ways I could be induced. They decided the water balloon would be the best option.

SOOOOO, they stuck a balloon up my whoha and filled it with water.

One thing that people barely mention is that when you're induced, your contractions are worse than if you had gone into labor naturally.

The pain began; it was hard and intense. At one point even with all the medications, I was in so much pain that I started yelling at all the nurses in the room. I remember yelling at them to do something. I felt like I was gonna poo everywhere and was trying so hard not to. All the nurses just stared at me like I was crazy, not doing anything as I was, no joke, screaming at them to do more when they couldn’t. That’s when someone came to hold my hand and had me start focusing on my breathing. I took big deep breaths in and out, when finally, the pain began to fade.

After that, the whole experience and the day after were a blur. I was so numb and exhausted from being up for over 48 hours. I had stopped dilating at 5 cm and didn’t move past that in over an hour. I was so tired I fell asleep for a little when they came in. I didn’t even realize what was really happening when they told me I needed to have a C-Section. I hardly knew what was going on. From what I was told afterward, I had been in labor so long that I had begun to develop an infection and fever. If I had stayed in labor longer, it would have become extremely dangerous for me and my child.

After supposedly giving my consent, which I don’t remember (I only remember saying "yes" a bunch of times), they began to wheel me away. I remember floating by my boyfriend who looked like a giant marshmallow because he was dressed head-to-toe in white and down a bunch of halls. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled off my bed onto a table as they prepared me for a C-Section.

I wasn’t as scared at that moment as I would have been if I wasn’t so numb and out of it from all the medications they gave me to dull the pain.

I could feel everything after that as they began the process of cutting me open. It was the weirdest thing I had ever felt and thankfully it didn’t hurt. I could feel the blade go across my skin from hip-to-hip and I could feel them stretch the incision open to remove all my intestines to get my precious baby out.

Yes, for those of you that didn’t know, they have to remove your insides to remove your baby! That’s why afterward they come into the room to feel your belly. They need to make sure everything is in place and let me tell you, that pain is awful! I don’t even know how to describe it.

I remember the guy who gave me the epidural standing by my side and I remember my boyfriend sitting by me on my left. The guy on my right looked down at me and told me to get ready for it after a few minutes because they were going to take my baby out in a minute. He told me it wouldn’t hurt, but to brace myself for what I would feel next. I squeezed my boyfriend’s hand as they pulled my sweet child from my belly.

I gasped for air when it happened because it had felt like my baby had been sucked from my belly by a giant suction cup…

At that moment my boyfriend disappeared and I began to panic because of the way it felt when they took him out. I grabbed the hand of the guy on my right and squeezed real tight. He could only hold my hand for a minute before he left my side. Then my boyfriend was back, and that was when I saw my baby. If I hadn’t been so numb and out of it, I knew I would have cried the first time I saw him and held him. Someone at that moment took a few pictures for us, which I cherish so much. My boyfriend disappeared again to go with our baby while they began to stitch me up. I could feel them stitching me up with disposable stitches, which in a way still haunts me. I began to feel cold and shook uncontrollably. My arms, hands, chest, and chin shook violently and the harder I tried to control it, the harder I shook. When they were done I remember saying about three times that I felt like I was going to puke while asking for a blanket, and telling them I was cold. That was the last thing I remembered until I held my son for the very first time. I was so very tired and felt so weak.

He was a big baby, but felt so small in that moment.

I felt happy, but hardly remember that part of my experience. I just remember saying something about how small his ear was…

Then I blacked out.

I was in and out of it for the next day or so, making it impossible for me to breastfeed my son. When I was finally able to stay awake for a longer period of time, they had me get up to go to the bathroom. That first time was awful. The medications had made it so that every time I sat up or stood, the whole room around me spun. So when I was making my way to the bathroom I felt so nauseous and just knew I was going to puke. I asked for the bucket as I continued to hobble towards the bathroom in excruciating pain. My boyfriend was standing by waiting to give me a kiss before he left for work, but I told him right before I puked to leave. I told him I loved him, he left, and right after, I puked. I continued to hobble to the bathroom and puked on my way. When I made it to the bathroom, I puked so hard and had to pee so bad that I didn’t make it to the toilet in time. I’ll spare you all the other details of what came after. I felt so bad for those nurses each time I had to go to the bathroom and so very embarrassed.

After a C-Section, you have to rework your muscles since they cut through all that.

Two to three days later, we went home. I could barely move because of the pain, and it made it so hard to care for my son. Being a new mom and recovering from a C-section was so hard. The most difficult thing I have EVER done in my entire life yet, I would do it all over again to give birth to another baby.

I remember crying a bunch of times because I couldn’t get him to stop crying and I remember being so stressed and depressed that I had meltdowns. I took care of him by myself because I had no friends in this state (we’ve only been here a year) and my family was never around to help me.

So given my story, what US C-Section momma’s go through, why do some people still think that going through a C-Section is viewed as “taking the easy way out?” Why are we told we aren’t “real moms?”

People need to stop assuming that we chose to take the “easy way out” because believe me when I say it is NOT easy and I did NOT CHOOSE to have one. I am a better mom because of what I did and I am so much STRONGER because of it. Plus, being a mom is hard enough all by itself so why tear other moms down over things like this that we CAN’T control?

We should spread love and understanding.