Dear C-Section Mamas (an introduction)

My baby sister is pregnant.  This is a long awaited baby (my sister experienced two miscarriages before this Little Man decided to stick around) and I couldn’t be more excited about his arrival- as evidenced by the ridiculous pile of stuff I have given my sister to help welcome him.  I just can’t help myself.  She and I have always been very different in temperament and our approaches to pregnancy and childbirth continue that longstanding tradition.  I value information and put a high premium on research and being informed. . . maybe to the point of obsession at times.  My sister tends to go with the flow and hope things work out, which they generally do for her.  She’s had her share of heartache, but firmly believes in not borrowing trouble.

So while passing off the hand-me-downs for my nephew I should have known better than to tell my sister my long, complicated, awkward and uncomfortable birth story.  But I didn’t.  Sometimes I forget that while to me it is just my son’s birth story, to somebody else it may be unsettling and a harbinger of evil.  Maybe by not hearing my story, such a terrible thing will not befall you.  My sister (God love her, bless her heart) felt the need to get validation from my mom and older sister- two women with more typical, less traumatic births in their history- that my experience was, in fact, weird and odd and nothing she should worry about.  Sigh.

I think she was confused when I cried.  I probably would have been, too.  And she also probably should have taken into account that it was my son’s first birthday and my mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of his birth all day.  I was pretty primed for emotions I’m usually good at shoving down.  I’m thankful we were able to resolve what was ultimately a miscommunication, but it was a very cathartic reminder that it’s hard to understand what you haven’t experienced.

I don’t think people understand when they create that divide between you and them- YOU who have experienced trauma and THEM who can avoid it by positive thinking or whatever- it means they are choosing not to identify with your pain.  You’re left on one side trying to defend how you got there while they sit on the other side hoping never to experience your life.  You have become the embodiment of The Worst Case Scenario they hope they don’t have to prepare for.  I’ve experienced this in infertility, miscarriage, childbirth, and even breastfeeding conversations.  I’m blessed to be able to identify with those who have experienced real struggles, but find myself uncomfortable in conversations with those who have had it easy and feel compelled to even brag about how good they are at fill-in-the-blank (getting pregnant, being pregnant, giving birth, breastfeeding, etc).  When you’ve had it easy, I think it’s natural to believe it’s because of something you’ve done or something you worked to avoid.  That’s another contributor to the divide between those who have struggled and those who haven’t (yet).  I know it’s true because there are certainly situations where I find myself on the smug side of that divide and I have to work against it.  I love a friend of mine who told me when she found out I’d had a c-section (she’s had four), “God knew I’d be a total snot if I’d been able to give birth naturally.”  I couldn’t agree more about either one of us.  While not everyone may struggle this way, I know for me a c-section was a humbling God knew I needed so I didn’t get the impression I’d accomplished a natural childbirth because I’m just such a spectacular and “empowered” woman.

Of course, having experienced nearly ten years of infertility prior to my son’s birth, I realize the weirdness of agonizing about the way my biological child entered the world.  The gratitude I feel for being allowed to carry him and experience pregnancy FAR outweighs my frustration and pain about how he entered the world.  It’s just in these days of “mommy wars” every detail of your pregnancy and childbirth experience is subject to public scrutiny and seems to paint a picture of what “kind of mom” you are.  Did you eat all organic, take the right prenatal vitamins, gain the appropriate amount of weight, hire the right doula, take the right breastfeeding class, and have a medication-free birth?  It’s a stressful introduction to parenting for sure.

So as I was driving home from that painful conversation with my sister, I couldn’t help thinking of YOU- Mama who just had a traumatic delivery that ended in a c-section.  It makes me wish I could invent a volunteer position at the hospital called “Post C-Section Comforter”.  Job description:  go to the rooms of women who had a stressful labor that ultimately ended in a c-section, give a hug, validate her sadness, and tell her it will be okay.  Since I can’t be sitting in your room tonight the way I wish someone had been sitting with me, AND since I have realized my scary birth story isn’t appreciated in polite company (and yours might not be either someday), here is my letter to you and a birth story that might make yours feel more “normal” (whatever that means).

(Letter is posted here)