Childbirth has been on my mind a lot lately. Not because it’s anywhere in my near future, obviously, but because I have a couple of close IF friends who are nearing their due dates with their second babies and my two SILs who are pregnant. It seems the talk on birth is everywhere I turn – at family gatherings, Twitter, Facebook. Birth plans and birth preferences. It’s all made me realize that I’m still tore up emotionally about how everything with Leopold’s birth went. Salt in still open wounds. I’m trying to work on having more peace about it, but it’s not coming easily.
After Leopold was born, I wrote out his birth story with tears rolling down my face. His birth didn’t go anywhere close to how I wanted it to. I wanted an unmedicated, vaginal birth and what I got was a failed induction and a c-section. But I felt too grateful to just have a live, perfect, healthy child and I felt that whatever my experience, I should just be happy. Champagne problems, right? The unwanted c-section that delivered a totally healthy baby boy. I thought surely with time those tough moments would very much fade into the background and all that is important is that he’s here. He’s healthy. He’s amazing. And he is, but those wounds, man. They’re still there.
Flashback for a bit: when I was finally adequately pregnant with Leopold, I started researching how I wanted him to come into this world. I read quite a few books on the subject and C and I took classes at the local hospital. Ideally, I wanted an un-medicated vaginal birth, my Mom had four and I felt I could manage the same. I hoped with all hope that I would go into labor at home, labor in the early stages there, then head on over to the hospital. My OB told me around 32 weeks that she wouldn’t let me go a day past my due date due to my hypothyroidism. I was upset, but I didn’t want to challenge her on it or switch doctors. She was extremely cautious with me due to my history and said something along the lines of “I’m going to be pretty cautious with you, we need to get this baby out safely.” Of course I was glad she was concerned about the safety of my child, but it also scared the crap out of me and made me trust in my body even less. Fast forward to 39 weeks. I had done everything I knew to get labor going but I was hardly dilated. We decided to move forward with and induction given the estimated size of the baby (at least 9 pounds at that point) and the fact that I was showing zero signs of progress. I didn’t like any of my options then – wait, perhaps get no further as far as progress goes, and be induced with an even bigger baby at 40 weeks, or go for the earlier induction with a smaller baby.
Another factor going into this? Pregnancy was an anxiety ridden thing for this multiple loss and infertile woman. Having that much daily faith in my body was difficult for me. I got to a point where I just wanted my baby in my arms, alive sooner rather than later. As much as I tried to push away those hypotheticals, I knew too well all of the heartbreaking stories that can and have happened from being a member of this community. We went ahead with an induction at 39 weeks and 1 day. Given our situation, we felt it was our best bet at having a vaginal birth. It wasn’t what I wanted to happen, but I felt it was the best of the options we had. I had tried all of the ways to get labor going – I stuck primrose oil capsules up my lady bits, we had sex, I went for long walks, I ate a lot of spicy food, all to no avail. The induction did not go as planned. I was given cervidil the evening I checked in to ripen my cervix and pitocin the next morning, I labored and contracted irregularly throughout the day without meds from 11 pm one night until about 6 pm the next day. I was in a lot of pain, but unable to move from my bed at that point. I couldn’t cope anymore and I was barely making any progress sans epidural, so I got it. I hoped with all hope that maaaaybe if I relaxed with the epidural, I would make some progress. Noooope, nada. By 11:30 pm, Leopold had hardly dropped and I was dilated to maaaaaybe 3 cms. His heart rate was dropping sporadically. The doctor said we were making very little progress, I could wait until it became an emergency, or I could opt for a c-section at that point, but there was very little hope for a vaginal birth at that point. I was upset, but I felt helpless.
All I wanted at that point was my baby, healthy, in my arms. During the operation, no one told me what was going on. I could feel tugging and pulling, I felt like a vessel and not a human. Baby Leopold was born via c-section at 11:51 pm, weighing in at 9 pounds 5 ounces and 22 inches long. As soon as he was brought to me, he attempted to latch onto my nose. He was healthy. I was in love. Then I had to wait what felt like an eternity to hold him while I got stitched up. My heart was aching. If I hadn’t had a c-section I could be cuddling my baby right now. I had a lot of fears – he wasn’t close to my chest and nursing yet, what did this mean for our breast feeding relationship, bonding, etc. I wanted to meet him to hold him and instead I was in a recovery room, shaking violently from the medication while a nurse typed on a computer. IT SUCKED.
I’m so incredibly grateful that he is here and he is healthy, please don’t think that being scarred from the birth experience doesn’t make me any less overwhelmingly grateful. I do know how lucky I am to have a child, I do. But I still hurt that I didn’t get to go through the kind of birth I wanted to, and I can’t really explain why it was so important to me. I kind of wish it wasn’t, I wish i could let it all go. I’ve tried to. I’ve tried to pretend I don’t care that I had a c-section, all that matters is that he is here. But, even nearly 20 months later? It stings when I hear birth plans that I wanted and didn’t even come close to having. Or birth stories that sound lovely and peaceful while mine wasn’t. It hurts when I hear judgement about inductions when I did just that with Leopold for a variety of reasons that I felt were valid, though I knew they were a gamble and each intervention got me closer to a c-section. I felt I was between a rock and a hard place and didn’t have much of a choice. Fear ruled my decisions, I know this. I was tired of fighting for a child. I didn’t trust my body, how could I, after three years of fighting for a child and two losses? If this doctor didn’t trust it either, how could I? I certainly wasn’t in any mindset to fight her on it.
All of these feelings came to a head when I was my family on Christmas eve. (If you follow me on twitter, you might know a bit of the story). My brother’s wife was pretty pregnant, she’s due in late February. My brother and my SIL have been going to hynobabies childbirth classes. My bro was talking about what it was with my Dad and me and how it worked a few times over the night, then started questioning me about how our birth unfolded and how we led to c-section. He interjected a time or two about “if you weren’t induced, everything would have gone fine.” And later, he made a comment that babies who were came into the world via c-section “weren’t born, but surgically removed from the uterus.” It really pissed me off. Are we not allowed to celebrate Leopold’s birthday because he was born via c-section? REALLY? Would he say this about his own child if things didn’t go as planned for his daughter’s birth? I was up half the night pissed off about it an feeling very judged and less than.
I did my best with the information I had available and the situation I was in. I did. But I hate that the fact that I had a c-section makes me feel less than. It’s another layer of loss of womanhood on top of my infertility, my body wasn’t good enough. My body didn’t get the memo that it was time to have a baby. I am not strong enough or woman enough to have given birth to a child vaginally. I didn’t get to have the unmedicated birth I wished for while women around me left and right are popping them out without issue. Or being induced – just as I was – and having babies vaginally without issue. But not me, of course not me. I’m the exception.
I don’t know if I did of anything better with Leopold. I don’t know if I would have fought to be induced instead at 41 weeks if I would have any luck birthing a 10 plus pound baby. (and no, I don’t think I would have gone into labor on my own before then.) I am in the minority when other woman talk about their birthing experiences just like their TTC experience. I hate that I feel so inadequate that I simply can’t relate to many people’s stories. I hate that I keep my mouth shut to pregnant women because I don’t want to scare them about the birth experience.
It still hurts today and I wish I could make it go away. I wish that other people’s birth experiences and birth plans didn’t grate my self-worth like it does. I truly want every woman to have the birth that they desire.
I just wanted that for myself too.
Mellow in the Midwest 
“But I still hurt that I didn’t get to go through the kind of birth I wanted to, and I can’t really explain why it was so important to me.” I am going to start here. AL – I am SO PROUD OF YOU for saying this. You know why it was (and is) important to you? Because it IS. It is part of our vision for how our children will come into this world. IF robs us of SO much normalcy, that we hope so much for just that *one thing* to be how we hoped. And when you get robbed some more? Salt in the wound. And of course, the guilt and shame over having negative feelings about how this perfect child came to be in your arms. You did your absolute best with what you knew, felt, and were experiencing at the time. You did it for your child. You did great. I remember.
I am remiss to say things like “Don’t feel that way! Don’t beat yourself up! You have a beautiful baby!” because I know how much that cuts when you feel like this. Instead, I will say, feel it all. It is a genuine wound, and one that is deserving of validation, support, love, understanding in order to heal. For that we must be brave to both ask, and accept. You are a brave woman, for every step you have taken and ARE taking on this journey. I admire you so, so much.
I am so sorry you feel this. A birthing experience is so personal. We all envision how things should go. Envision how we want them to go. As someone who works in the field, I see everything. I see the happy perfect birth plan mons who get their magical experience. I see the tragic nightmare of an emergency c-section. And everything in between. Because of this I had little expectations for my birthing experience. I read this and so many other women who had bad birthing experiences and it breaks my heart. My experience with birth plans in the field have not been good. I never really thought about how the mom felt after her birth plan went awry. It never occurred to me how it might effect them, especially not 20 months later.
I think of it this way. It is one more thing we are robbed of. It is a loss. It needs to be mourned and grieved. It will heal like any wound, but there will always be a scar. In no way does having a c-section make you less of a woman. You may feel this and that’s ok, but no matter how Leo came into this world, he is your son and you are his mom. People will judge and say stupid things because they don’t know any better. I admit to being one. I can’t tell you how many patients I have admitted and in report I got “the mom had a birth plan, so of course it was a c-section and the kid is in the NICU.” I never thought about the full term babies I admitted having moms be devastated from their birthing experience. Of course the 24 weekers have devastated moms, but I never thought about women like you.
I’m so sorry you feel this way. But from this post you just helped make me a better nurse to moms like you. Thank you for sharing this story. It is heartbreaking for me to read, but gives me a perspective I never really thought about in my practice. Sending you hugs and love and all that stuff….and thank you for helping me be a better nurse….and a little bit better person too.
Ps sorry for the long winded comment…had to get it all out.
Oh Al. I’m so sorry you still have these horrible wounds to walk through life with. And I’m so sorry your family isn’t very understanding. That would make me very upset. But I’m so glad you wrote this, because I KNOW there are other women who have similar feelings and don’t feel prepared to admit these feelings and it’s so important that there is somewhere they can go to find validation and understanding.
I wish things had gone the way you’d wanted and I hope you will have another successful pregnancy and will be able to attempt the birth you’d hoped for. (have you looked into VBACs at all? Is that an option for you?)
Sending love and light.
Abiding with you.
I admire you so much for writing this post. Particularly in the land of IF/PAIL there are expectations to “just be happy” with a healthy child. And, yes, OF COURSE! But there is also something (MUCH!!) to be said for the experience of getting that child and bringing him into the world. I 100% understand the feeling of one more failure by your body. All in all my birth experience wasn’t so far off from what I wanted, or rather I’m more or less okay with where it differs, but I do have regrets. And that’s tough because it isn’t something that we can change. I hope that writing it out has been therapeutic for you. I will say that my sister went through a similar experience to you (started with an unmedicated, home water birth [not induced, however] and ended up an emergency c-section 40 or so hours later) and also went on to not be able to breastfeed sucessfully. She had a really difficult time coming to terms with that “failure.” She says there are days that she looks at her c-section scar and is mad at it. And there are others when she is glad for it because it brought her child into this world. I imagine those feelings are something you can share. I say all that because I was talking to my sister just recently and she told me that she’s beginning to feel better about it, that as much as she wishes she could change it she is starting to feel like it’s not her place to change what is also a large part of Lily’s story (my niece). I dunno… I know that probably sounds silly and isn’t helpful at all, but I thought it was interesting to think about/look at from the baby’s perspective, too. The fact that Luke came out ready to EAT (seriously, how awesome is that to think about now, now that you know his personality and his love for food!!!) makes me smile to much. That boy was READY for the world.
Anyway, I have a feeling that I’ve rambled on. What I really want to say above all else is that I understand. Your feelings are 100% legitimate. And I love you, friend.
I’m so happy that you were able to write this all out finally. When I was sitting in your home talking about this stuff, I was curious what your whole story was, but i didn’t way to pry, b/c you could tell that though you were trying to be okay with it all, that it still hurt. OBVIOUSLY it still hurts, because it’s hard when a process that you hoped and dreamed about happening a certain way goes awry. It’s okay to grieve that and be upset about that and to have hope that next time will be different. You are a strong lady, AL, and I am so proud of you for having the strength to write this all out and admit to feeling sad and angry and blessed, all at the same time. ((HUGS))
I admit I never really thought about a c-section that way, having such a negative lasting impression on a person. I didn’t have a birth plan, but I knew I wanted an epidural and to give birth vaginally. Even though Chloe was placed right on my chest, she never got the hang of breastfeeding. So I just wanted to throw that out there, that even in what seems like ideal circumstances, things don’t always go right.
I totally get how you say your body failed you when trying to get pregnant, all you wanted was a sense of normalcy during the birth of your child and you feel robbed of that too. Totally get it now. I agree with what the other ladies said though that it’s a loss just like any other in IF and something to be talked about and grieved so hopefully it gets easier as time passes. 20 months isn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things, so I do hope that as more time passes it just becomes part of L’s story and not as much of a sore spot in your heart.
Aw AL. Lets you and me sit down and get drunk and talk about all the coulda shoulda wouldas involved in our births. My heart hurts reading this. Really it does. I’m sorry you feel that way but I’ve found that talking about it does help. Immensely. So keep it up. And tell your judgey brother to stick it up his ass. 😉 -oak
Although most of the time I am just purely grateful for how things went, I do sometimes struggle with these feelings too. And I want to punch people like your brother in the face! Sometimes I feel that I missed out on what could have been a good experience (I get green about the gills when people talk about how ’empowering’ it felt to give birth– my experience was more like being helplessly carried along on a demented amusement park ride, complete with the photo snapped at the end!). One thing that also bothers me is that my scar is sometimes sender or irritated– do you have any c-section scar treatment tips?
I can’t fully get it, since I never got close enough to have any idea of how I wanted my child’s birth to be, but I get how it would constantly be a fresh wound when people around you are swapping birth stories and making birth plans that are nothing like your experience was. That happens to me with my mom friends too – I have nothing to add to the conversation when my kid arrived via airplane! (Not that I’m sorry to have adopted of course! It’s just a needling feeling that I missed out on something fundamental that nearly every other woman does.)
What strikes me the most about your story is how your family has inadvertently made the wound deeper for you. It really struck me on Twitter when you mentioned the button your father wore and how it made you feel. I know it’s about more than other people’s opinions, and I’m so sorry that your birth experience was not what you hoped it would be and that your doctor steamrolled you, but it’s really important that other people not pile on. Someone, I can’t remember who, recently wrote that a man who had a major abdominal operation would be a hot, moaning mess, NOT expected to immediately be responsible for the tremendous care of a helpless human being. I am in AWE of women who have c-sections. Also, does your brother think HE is going to be birthing a baby? I’m sure he’s awesome, but seriously dude, you have NO BUSINESS talking about the relative merits of different types of births.
I’m very glad you posted this. As you may know, I had a scheduled c-section at 37 weeks due to IUGR. Alex was breech, or else I also would have been induced. I have agonized since about the chain of events that lead to the c-section. Should I have tried to turn him? Should I have argued with my OB to let me carry him longer, with frequent monitoring? But, no, in the end, I have no regrets. I, too, was anxious to meet my son, and I knew the ultimate reason my OB recommended delivering at full-term was because of the risk of a stillbirth. A STILLBIRTH. Even if it was only a .001% increased chance (over the chances of a healthy pregnancy ending in stillbirth) every day past 37 weeks, then I still agree with her.
Luckily, my hospital did things a bit differently. They did take the baby away while I was being stitched, but the three of us were together in recovery. I estimate ten minutes passed between his birth and his first nursing session, and my husband agrees. So that was nice.
Ultimately, you need to have faith in your OB/midwife/whomever. Because when things get really crazy and scary, THEY have to be the rational one when you may not be able to. And I’m glad I followed my OB’s advice.
Well said! I, too, followed my OB’s advice for all things (declining the external version, going with a scheduled c-section, his suggestions on when to ask to nurse) and am so glad I did. I trusted my OB from the moment I met him and I still do. That is SO important!
I’ve said this many times, I admire you. There’s nothing wrong with wishing Leopold’s birth had gone differently. It is your right, and your birth experience does matter. Your feelings are real and should be validated, don’t let anyone make you feel like your feelings shouldn’t or don’t count. You are so brave, I wish I had your courage.
Thanks for writing this. It’s hard. I feel like something of a failure on occasion because I couldn’t finish the vaginal birth – got to the last little bit and had a vacuum-assisted delivery (that was totally medically needed and I’m so glad we were at the hospital to have). A friend had a homebirth where her daughter had the same problem with the cord around her neck that mine did, and she got it done, so what’s wrong with me that I couldn’t? Realistically, nothing. I wasn’t at both births so maybe the circumstances were different. My feelings are what makes it hurt for so long, and that’s all right, just hard (and boo on anyone who makes it harder by not getting that it’s an emotional experience). Knowing that it’s natural to need an intervention to save someone’s life is important too.
That said, the only part of this pregnancy and the hospital where I’m delivering that I’m happy about is that they won’t induce for a large baby. They’ll monitor like crazy but no inductions until 41 weeks and 3 or 4 days, since the stillbirth rate goes up after 42 weeks quite sharply. Hopefully a similarly supportive doc who will let you try a VBAC if you want will be around when kid 2 is ready to make an appearance.
Pingback: Birth story + perspective = emotions. | and now, let the wild rumpus start!
Oh AL, I understand so much of what you’re saying. When I was told that we needed a c-section for Matthew’s delivery (he was breech and never moved from that position from 25 weeks onward), I was devastated. I was given the option to do a version, but I truly felt that M was in the position he was for a reason (and at delivery, we found out that reason – a very short cord. A version could have been catastrophic). I cried for days over the loss of the natural experience I wanted. Prior to the news of the c-section, we had planned an un-medicated, natural birth much like what you envisioned. All of a sudden, that was gone. The difference though – is that I had WEEKS to come to terms with this. You had MINUTES. It truly took me a few weeks to even feel OK about needing a c-section and I mourned what I feared I’d lose. So I was able to go into my c-section with a modified plan (baby being in B’s arms immediately after initial cleaning and never leaving his arms until he was in my arms, baby nursing immediately in recovery, skin to skin entire time in recovery, no visitors until I said so (this was a big one with my family), etc.) that was fully respected by all in the hospital. You had none of that and had to fly by the seat of your (more so your doctor’s) pants.
For the longest time, I felt like I didn’t give birth to Matthew. I think I’ve told you that before. I feel like Dr. H gave birth to him since he pulled him out of me with no effort on my part. That used to upset me. I’m now over it. I don’t know why I am, but I am.
We are not opting for a VBAC this time. This new baby has an anterior placenta like Matthew which is sitting low in my uterus. When Dr. H delivered Matthew, he had to cut his placenta in half to get to him – and my scar from the c-section is very likely where this new baby’s placenta is or could end up. It’s not worth it to me to even take the risk of a rupture knowing that that rupture could easily sever the placenta from the uterine wall. SO – I will have another scheduled c-section and honestly, besides the time away from Matthew, I’m looking forward to it. It is easy and mine was SO peaceful. I think a SCHEDULED c-section is way better than the c-section that follows an induction for so many reasons. No one was yelling, no one was rushed, everyone was calm and happy, and my body wasn’t ravaged from trying to deliver naturally. My recovery was easier than most of my friends who delivered naturally. Because of my prior experience with the scheduled c-section, I am 100% at peace with having another one.
I’m sorry you had to go through this. C-sections after inductions are far too common in this country (Dr. H says it’s more like 70% rather than the published 50%), which makes me think that this country does way too many inductions. Nature needs to be given a chance! I say that as a comment about our medical practices and not about your decision to induce. I don’t think you had much of a choice. I would have made the same choice had I been in your shoes.
Your brother’s comment was stupid and hurtful, and especially aggravating coming from a man who will never birth anything!
I know this was not easy for you to put out there, but I hope you know there are SO many of us who feel all of these same things, you are definitely not alone. That feeling of our bodies having failed us… It’s so pervasive and absolutely impacts our belief we can even have a healthy normal birthing experience. My own experience was not what I’d hoped for and there are some things I will likely carry with me a long time from now. I really really understand and hope for you that your next birth (which you WILL have!) will be different. Xo.
I have so much to say, I don’t even know where to start. I know EXACTLY how you feel. I did not have the birth I wanted with G. Not even close. I had planned for the lowest intervention birth possible (unmedicated, vaginal) at a hospital (it had to be in a hospital because I have a bleeding disorder that requires meds). I thought I did everything right: I went to a practice of midwives, I attended crunchy, granola childbirth classes that focused on natural childbirth, I did prenatal yoga, I walked 3 miles every single day up until the day G was born, I was obsessed with the Spinning Babies website and doing exercises to make sure the baby was in the right position. When my due date came and went, I started getting labor inducing acupuncture and aromatherapy (hey, I was willing to try anything). When I finally went into labor on my own at 41w4d, I labored at home for more than 24 hours and only went to the hospital when I did because of an impending snowstorm (we live in a city, didn’t have a car at the time and the cabs were about to stop running). I thought I was READY and it turned out, I wasn’t. I wasn’t prepared for everything that happened next. How I ended up with a c-section in an OR filled with about 20 strangers who were all, in such a sick way, hoping to see something exciting (like me coding or something). How I felt like such a failure afterwards. How, almost 2 years later, I still question every decision and wonder if it could have gone differently if I’d only done this or asked that. With my second baby, I desperately hoped for a VBAC but it wasn’t in the cards. Hospital policy would not allow VBACs past 41 weeks and I never went into labor on my own before hitting that mark. At least the scheduled c-section with #2 was peaceful and I knew what to expect.
More than anything, I hated the “at least you have a healthy baby, that’s all that matters” comments afterwards. Yes, that’s important, and yes, I am so grateful for my healthy little girls, but it’s not ALL that matters. A woman’s feelings about how she’s treated and how her children come into this world matter, too. I hated having my feelings dismissed as silly and irrelevant. Oh, and I, too, had assholes tell me that I hadn’t given birth to anything because I had a c-section. Screw them. Giving birth is to give life and that’s exactly what we did.
Anyway! Thank you so much for sharing your story. It brought back so many emotions for me and I believe it’s such an important topic for women to discuss honestly and without judgment. I sincerely hope you get the birth experience you want next time around.
I’m sure writing this was extremely cathartic for you- I hope that it can jumpstart your healing. Although my birth experience was great, I have similar emotional scars from my breastfeeding experience- and it seems like no one understands, and no one truly understands the anxiety I have about it with the baby I’m about to give birth to. I hope when you have another baby, you are able to have close to the experience you want and deserve. This post was extrememly brave and I know it helped you as well as a lot of other women!
I know what you mean. The other day I was left out of a conversation about having babies and motherhood because I had a c section with Selah. When I mentioned it to them, they said that they forgot that I may have “had plans and opinions on having babies”. I HAD Selah and, while I didn’t labor with her for hours, I still had to deal with a rougher postpartum time that those without c section, due to major abdominal surgery AND a newborn.
While reading this I had a flashback to the night Josey and I were sitting in your floor with you, talking about Hypnobabies and birth stuff, and the look on your face when you hinted ever so gently about your complicated feelings surrounding L’s birth. I could tell that this cut more deeply than you shared with us that night. I am so proud (if I can be) of you for composing and sharing this post. It takes some serious lady balls to reflect on it all, and to bravely put it all to words–words that clearly resonate with all of us. I hope writing this and reading these amazing comments has started you down a path to peace in all of this. You deserve peace, woman.
Even though L’s birth did not unfold in the manner you had hoped and prepared diligently for, you did an AMAZING thing. Hear me–AMAZING. Your body carried and nurtured that beautiful baby for 39 weeks. You were in an unenviable position during his birthing to make decisions under intense emotions and time constraints and inadequate support. You did your level best to continue to make caring and nurturing decisions for L. Yes, perhaps fear factored into your decisions (how could it not?), but LOVE was also a factor. A crazy love for this baby you wanted for so long, a baby you traveled through hell to finally hold in your arms. I do not say this with the intention of minimizing your grief, but rather to give you some credit where credit is truly due. You did your level best, woman. You truly did. You failed no one. XO
P.S. Regarding your brother’s insensitive and uninformed statement… Like I said on Twitter: it’s easy to be cavalier and sanctimonious about a birth experience when you’re not the one trying to push a human being out of your vagina. Hypnobabies can be an empowering experience, but it shouldn’t empower someone to make unfair b-hole statements like that.
I am so proud of you and happy for you that you were able to dig deep down inside to where these feelings were still hiding, and pull it all out to share. You are brave to do so for many reasons… not only that you are sharing them with all of us but that you are re-sharing this story with yourself… something I know which has painful memories for you but which I truly hope can have joyous memories when you look back at it eventually. What you did in your situation was what you absolutely believed was best for your baby and that is the absolute most important thing. You were his mother before he was even born and you had already started on that path. Of course when you are told what is ‘the best route’ at the time, it is hard to think otherwise or question that. On one hand, thank goodness you now have your beautiful baby boy but on the other hand, I completely understand that it hurts and you deserve to let it hurt. You did not get the birth experience that you dreamed of and for every woman who doesn’t, they deserve to mourn that.
I am so so sorry for your brother’s hurtful comment. I don’t even know what to say in regards to that because I just know that must have stung so much and was unbelievable insensitive and just plain stupid. Please ignore it in very form.
You did an amazing job giving birth to an amazing little boy. Like you said, you don’t know what would have happened if you had have fought to wait. There is absolutely no guarantee that it could have gone better and a good possibility it could have gone worse. In no way am I saying, “you were lucky”… you don’t need to hear that, but I hope you know that you did what any amazing mother would do and that was what was best for your baby.
Thank you for opening up and sharing your story with us. Big big hugs!!