The Unnecesarean

I wrote these first few paragraphs around the end of November (November 28, to be exact).

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During the month of November, I have written about ten posts in which I have tried to explain what's been going on in my life. Certainly, there's been Thanksgiving and Facebook and FarmVille and sleep training and my dad's being put in a nursing home and marriage and all that stuff, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the dirty undercurrents, the waves of emotion that accompany everything I do. This post will not be talking about all that stuff.

To close out the month and the ever-challenging NaBloPoMo, I want to talk about just one thing. One big thing.

Since Charlie's birth, I have suspected (quietly, to myself) that my C-section was not medically necessary. The OB on call that day told me that my cervix was swollen and that I would likely not progress any further. He said he could perform a C-section or that we could wait it out and see what happened.

I jumped at the chance to get the baby out ASAP, because I was so tired and in so much pain and I didn't know how much more I could take. Why would I choose to wait it out if I wasn't going to progress any further? And so I signed forms and was wheeled away and strapped down to the operating table and put under. And then I woke up to a whole new me and a whole new life and a nice red scar to cherish forever. (Not.)

I discovered yesterday that a swollen cervix can indeed resolve itself during labor. Just when I thought I couldn't feel any more resentful, angry, bitter, or sad about my birth experience, I discovered that I could - because my suspicions about my C-section being medically unnecessary were confirmed.

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And now here I am in the present.

Every morning I wake up and think of how all the emotional upheaval I've experienced since Charlie was born (concerning his birth) has ultimately been unnecessary. But now I've started seeing my birth experience on a larger scale. This isn't something that just happened to me; it happens all the time to women all over the nation. With the C-section rate being at an all-time high (31%) in the United States, there's definitely something wrong with the way labor and delivery are handled.

This is not to say that C-sections should be abolished. I certainly am grateful for modern medicine; however, I do think that C-sections are being performed too often, just like I think inductions are performed too often (and the two are linked). There are a lot of women out there today, it seems, who would actually prefer a C-section over giving birth vaginally. Having experienced a very traumatic labor and ending up with C-section, I can't understand why anyone would prefer to be cut open when they can more than likely just push the baby out, but whatever. It's not my choice to make for others, and honestly, I really don't care what other people do with their bodies.

Recently I watched The Business of Being Born and read Your Best Birth. I found myself nodding in agreement through most of both. If there is anything I regret, it's that I didn't take the time or the effort to really think about what I wanted from my birth experience when I was pregnant. I honestly just wanted Charlie and thought the rest of it was just something to get him into my arms. And while that is true on one level, on a much deeper level I cannot deny that his birth was a transformative experience. The journey towards having an outside baby shook me to my very core.

And while it was an extremely negative experience, now I'm starting to see more positive coming out of it. The way I approach the world is different. The way I think is different. I no longer see the labor and delivery process as a means to an end but as something sacred. I understand now that my future births will be experiences to be fought for and protected. I don't think I will ever be able to put myself (and my children) in the hands of doctors without reservations.

I now understand that my body didn't fail me during labor and delivery. The doctors did. The hospital did. The entire medical system did. They forced me to surrender when really it should have been my choice to surrender. No one should have ever taken that away from me. I shouldn't have had to sit here for all these months and feel this deep self-loathing because I failed.

And yet, that is exactly what happened. But if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have sought out ICAN. And if I hadn't sought out ICAN, I wouldn't have met Sheila, who's had two C-sections but will be trying for a VBAC at a birthing center in March. I recently found out that Sheila was looking for someone to photograph her VBAC, and I offered myself up for the job. And she said yes. So in March I'm going to be a part of something beautiful and healing. I'm going to witness birth as it should be. I'm going to be a part of it. I'll be providing her with memories that will last her a lifetime, and I know the experience is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I am very excited.

***

As is the case with traumatic experiences, out of the ashes rises a new person. The new me will never be thankful for what happened when Charlie was born, although she will always be thankful for her perfect, healthy baby boy. The new me understands that saying things like "You should be grateful" to a woman who has just been through hell and back is incredibly insensitive and damaging. The new me understands that birth changes you as much as the new baby does.

The new me is asking all you women of child-bearing age out there to please, if you ever intend to have children, consider your options for birth. Many women out there will tell you, "Get the epidural!" or "Haven't you had that baby yet? Why don't you let the doctor induce?" But just know and understand that those aren't your only options. Don't make the same mistake I did and think that birth doesn't matter. I can never emphasize enough just how much it does matter. Think about you want from your birth, and go for it. (Even if it is a hospital birth with an epidural - childbirth is painful, and I will never begrudge anyone their epidural! Just make sure it's what you want.)

I'm already planning my next birth, and assuming my next pregnancy unfolds in the same way my pregnancy with Charlie did (no complications, relatively low anxiety level), I will be trying for a VBAC, and it sure as hell won't be in a hospital. I am scared and excited about the possibility of giving birth the way I want to. I'm sad and angry about being forced into an induction and C-section I didn't want. But in spite of all that, I'm feeling something else, too.

Empowered. I feel empowered. It's taken me a little while, but Leslie's getting her groove back.

(PS - I so wish I had come up with the title of this post on my own, but alas, I stole it.)

I think ICAN, I think ICAN.

Around the beginning of the month, I emailed the leader of my local ICAN chapter to find out if there are any support meetings available to women who are dealing with birth trauma/C-section emotional recovery. When I didn't hear anything back, I emailed The Feminist Breeder (from whose blog I originally heard about ICAN) to see if she had any ideas about how to get in touch with someone local. She put a call for help out on the ICAN listserv, and then I got blasted with emails linking me to tons of resources, as well as some emails from people offering me their ears. I was invited to attend a free webinar about VBAC. And so I plugged into the webinar. I was unable to participate by speaking, but I sent in my birth story, and it was read out loud. Other women shared their stories, too, about both C-section births and VBACs.

I know that I've griped a lot about Charlie's birth on this blog. I know that it's got to get old to hear someone complaining about something as minor as a birth experience gone wrong when there are real problems in the world, especially when said complainer has a healthy, happy baby. I used to be one of those people who just didn't get it when a woman got upset if her birth experience went wrong. Like so many other people, I equated a successful birth with a living, healthy baby. And don't get me wrong. The best thing really is getting the baby at the end.

But the baby and the birth experience are separate. And I think that's what a lot of people just don't understand. I love Charlie with everything I am. There is not a day that goes by when I don't think about how lucky I am to have such a wonderful little guy. But you know what? I hate the way he was born. I hate what I had to go through to get him out. It totally sucks, and when people offer me their platitudes of "at least you've got a healthy baby," I want to throat punch them. I know they mean well, but it's condescending and invalidating and dismissive to say things like that. It's like saying "It was his time" when someone dies or "at least your baby is living" when someone is dealing with having their baby in the NICU. Saying things like that completely sidesteps the issue at hand.

Our culture is obsessed with looking on the bright side. People don't want to hear about other people's problems. They just want people to think positive. It's ridiculous to deny yourself the right to feel, no matter what those feelings may be. But our culture almost requires it.

I'm here to say that I'm pissed. And I'm sad. I feel like I'm broken, that my body failed me, that my doctors failed me, that the hospital failed me. But most of all, I feel like I failed myself. I didn't put much thought into what I wanted Charlie's birth to be like. I just knew that I wanted the baby. So I went for a "normal" birth, with an epidural in the hospital and all the other BS that came with it. I okayed the induction even though I knew it was perfectly normal for me to be "overdue" with a first pregnancy. I didn't research pain management techniques. I trusted my doctor. I trusted my body. I let my birth experience happen to me. And dammit, I'm not a person who just lets things happen. Not me. I research. I prepare. I go into situations armed with knowledge. For Charlie's birth, I did the minimal amount of research and preparation. And look where it got me. I've got a nice incision scar on my lower abdomen and a much deeper one on my psyche. I remain, unfortunately, traumatized, saddened, and angered by my birth experience.

There is absolutely nothing I can do about any of this now besides accept it for what it is and try something different next time. When all this was very fresh and new, I swore I would never go through the pain of labor again. No way in hell would I do that to myself after all I went through. But the further I get from Charlie's birth, the more I think about the possibility of having a VBAC. The thought of actually having a vaginal birth both thrills and terrifies me. Since we aren't even trying for another baby yet, and who knows when we will, I have a lot of time to prepare for next time, whenever that may be. To face my fears and all that cliched stuff. Who knows, maybe I'll end up scheduling another C-section after all. It'd be the easiest thing to do. It'd take the guesswork out of everything. There would be no fear that I'd end up with another C-section after laboring forever.

I'm not completely down on C-sections. I can't see myself becoming one of those women who goes around saying shit like "your body was meant to give birth," because let's face it, for some women that is just not the case. Some people have very valid reasons for needing a C-section. I think my beef is with the need to rush women into giving birth before their bodies are ready and with how much doctors feel the need to intervene. I'm also sick of the fear-mongering, a lot of which comes from freakin' doctors. It's disgusting and manipulative.

I am definitely down on the way that my entire birth experience unfolded. It was so cold and scary and painful, and I spent hours truly believing that I wouldn't make it out alive. I never expected birth to be a walk in the park. But I never expected to miss Charlie's entrance to the world. I never expected to be pushed through some baby factory and to have my son cut out of me. I never expected to feel so alienated.

I give myself pep talks when I am feeling down about all this. I remind myself that none of this really matters in the long run and what really is important is that I am a good and loving mother to Charlie. But then I have to call bullshit on myself. Because, dammit, it does matter. Giving birth is a transformative experience. To act like it isn't is naive.

I refuse to live my life in denial. I refuse to ignore the places that hurt. This is a place that really, really hurts. I talk about it with the hopes that giving it a voice will help me to heal. It doesn't mean that I'm negative. It means that I'm going through something that really affected me. It means that sometimes I have to repeat everything I've said before because for whatever reason I am revisiting this painful place. So if you're reading this and rolling your eyes, as my inner critic always does when I write again about how badly things went when Charlie was born, have patience with me and with this place that's all bruised and battered. It will never be the same again, but I'm not entirely convinced that's a bad thing.