A, B, C-Section: A Lesson in Unnecessary Guilt

I always figured that I would end up having a cesarean.

My mom had 3 kids, all c-sections. My mother-in-law had 3 kids, all c-sections. My husband and I were both 10 lb babies. It was well within the realm of possibility that I would end up gettin’ that sweet sweet C.

I purposely avoided researching what exactly happens during a cesarean while I was pregnant. Perhaps because I was scared that if I knew the details I’d be more terrified to have one? Maybe the stress of labor in general is terrifying already and ignorance is bliss? Whatever the reason, I over-researched nearly every aspect of being pregnant and labor, but spent little to no time dedicated to understanding what a cesarean would mean for my physically, emotionally, and mentally.

As it turns out, accepting the idea of having a cesarean is vastly different than accepting having had one.

After the birth of my first kiddo, I felt traumatized by my fairly routine, non-emergency, no-complications c-section - and more importantly, I felt like an absolute failure.

Now, I was already sitting in a heavy place - so it’s hard to separate and itemize all of my emotions against when things started mentally getting dark (you know, like, which came first, the anxiety or the death in the family? The depression or the guilt? Classic chicken/egg situation) - but one of my more consistent internal struggles was accepting that I had a c-section.

I remember telling myself that I was okay with it. Baby is here, she’s okay, I’m okay. It’s okay. So you didn’t go into labor? So what?! Baby is here, she’s okay, I’m okay. So the induction didn’t really work after awhile? So what?! Baby is here, she’s okay, I’m okay.

I lied to myself for months.

My first was born in January of 2017. In August of 2017, my sister-in-law gave birth to my niece. She had a beautiful pregnancy, went into labor, and delivered her daughter through her lady bits. All of the things worked and her body did the things without help or additional prompting. From my seat, she got the experience I was hoping for. (From her seat she’s probably like, Lauren calm the fuck down and don’t envy my vagina you weirdo).

I vividly remember crying, hard, in my car on the way to work after visiting her in the hospital.

Granted, I cried on my way to work A LOT in the 12 months following the birth of my first kid, but this was different. This was specific.

I was crying because I was so envious. I wanted what she had. I didn’t want to be a failure. I wanted my body to just do what I was told it was designed to do. I wanted to go into labor, I wanted to push, I wanted to force this baby out of my body with my crazy woman strength (with drugs, I’m not a fucking masochist). I wanted to give birth.

I finally admitted that I felt cheated out of the birth experience I had hoped for, and that I was not okay.

Letting out that emotion was critical. Simply addressing that I was fuckin’ bummed about having a c-section was such a lift, because pretending I was okay wasn’t working.

But I didn’t address this with a therapist until well after I became pregnant with my second kid.

I carried the guilt about my first c-section until the time came to make a choice on whether to schedule my second.

My doctor presented me with the choice on whether or not I would like to have a repeat cesarean or try for a VBAC. (Vaginal birth after cesarean, in case you didn’t know - this is when you want to try to shoot a baby out of your bits after you’ve already had one out of a stomach slice).

I asked my doctor her thoughts, and after a discussion I decided quite early on that I would like to schedule a c-section, and I immediately struggled with my choice.

All of the guilt came rushing back, my feelings of failure, my body’s inability to perform on opening night. I looked online for support on going through another c-section and came up so, so short. There is an overwhelming push toward VBACs and so little support for a mother trying to feel okay about choosing a c-section, so I decided it was time to talk it out.

In therapy I talked through a lot of things, primarily around PPD/PPA and how to prevent and get ahead of it, but I also spoke for a long time around my feelings about having had a c-section.

At one point my therapist said something along the lines of, “You know, it wasn’t that long ago that women in your situation would die during childbirth. Either you or the baby could have died.” I looked at her reluctantly and said yea, of course I know that, and she said back to me,

“You really shouldn’t feel guilty for not dying.”

Perhaps it was because I was weeks from having another kid, or because it just made sense, but I really liked the way she put it. I finally felt good about my choice.

I can never know what would have happened if I had said no to my first cesarean. I can never know what would have happened if I didn’t plan my second cesarean and tried to do a vbac. Maybe I would’ve wrecked my vagina and that would be it? Maybe I’d have had an emergency c-section anyway? Maybe I wouldn’t have made it? Maybe one of my kids wouldn’t be here?

In the end, I’m here. My kids are here. I made the best decision for myself and my family with the information I had available to me at the time, and as a mother - that is all I can ever do.

I have no qualms with my cesareans anymore. Other people can pump kids out of their jiblets and I’m fine with that.

I’ve got a bad-ass scar, a numb-ass skin shelf, and two awesome fuckin’ kids that came out of my fucking stomach. Gross.

Why should I feel guilty about that? I shouldn’t.