Today two of my best friends welcomed their baby girl into the world. Such a joyous event should bring hugs, smiles, a congratulatory cigar and maybe a stork balloon or two. But for me, hearing the news only brought up all the sadness and unresolved emotions left over from my own labor and delivery experience.
It’s dangerous to cling to your “perfect birth” scenario. So I never made a birth plan. I was very “Whatever happens happens, I just don’t want to have a c-section”. I was all, epidural? Sure, if I need one. We need to induce because my blood pressure is crazy high? Fine, let’s do it. All I cared about was the moment right after he came out.
I envisioned them putting him on my chest, my fresh out of the oven baby. I didn’t even care if he was all goopy. I would look at the little life I created and then I would look at Chris and we would marvel at our son and how beautiful he most surely would be. I still play this little movie over and over in my head. What could have been and what I wish it was.
I had a c-section after 2 hours of pushing and over 20 hours of labor, Emmett was in the birth canal, he just couldn’t make his escape. The c-section took awhile and I lost a lot of blood. The first thing my doctor said to me the next day when she came to check on me was, “I know it’s really soon to be thinking about this, but I highly recommend you have a repeat c-section if you choose to have more children”.
Because this time around was tricky, I’m at a much higher risk for complications should I choose a VBAC. I trust her judgment and honestly if I had to endure another labor and still end up with another c-section I would probably go ape shit and beat up a poor innocent nurse with my IV pole and it would be really bad.
So having my c-section was basically game over as far as the dream of my freshly born babe being placed on my chest goes.
I know, I know, all that matters is that Emmett and I are both healthy and whole. I KNOW.
But that doesn’t mean that I can’t mourn the fact that I will never be able to experience the feeling of my child being born. And feeling the pain of a c-section because the anesthesia has worn off DOES NOT COUNT.
So this is why I’m crying tears of sadness on the birthday of my faux niece. It’s not because I’m not overjoyed for my friends over the birth of their healthy daughter. Because I am thrilled for them, I truly am. It’s just because, no matter how hard I try, there will always be a small part of me that feels robbed of one of life’s greatest experiences.
And that’s just the way it is.