Some individuals meticulously plan for childbirth, selecting meaningful music, jotting down uplifting notes, and packing their hospital bags with care. I was not among them.
While many expectant mothers draw strength from thoughts of their baby during labor—imagining their little one’s face and tiny hands—I was not one of those people. I did hire a doula and packed a few essentials, but I didn’t prepare myself emotionally for what was to come. In fact, when the day arrived, I almost forgot I was about to meet my daughter.
Honestly, I don’t think I possess a distinct style in my clothing, appearance, or home decor. If I did, it would be straightforward and uncomplicated. I approached childbirth with a similar mindset, not envisioning a particular style—no mantras, no hypnosis, and certainly no birthing tub. The only thing I wanted to avoid was a C-section. Ironically, that’s exactly what I got.
I had expected to give birth in a hospital, likely with some pain relief. However, at 37 weeks, I learned my baby was in a breech position. After a somewhat traumatic attempt to manually turn her (known as ECV), I was faced with scheduling a C-section.
Once the C-section was on the calendar, I felt emotionally distanced from the reality of it. My mind shifted into survival mode; I felt numb. The weeks leading up to the surgery were filled with lists and preparations for recovery, but emotionally, I was unprepared. I recognized on a cognitive level that a baby was coming home with us, but emotionally, I was fixated on the surgery itself.
Yes, the surgery.
To me, it wasn’t a birth but an operation—intense and with a long recovery ahead. It wasn’t a day to welcome my child; I didn’t frame it that way. My husband often expressed his excitement about meeting our daughter. I would echo his sentiments, but they felt hollow. Inside, I was terrified but unable to admit it. Acknowledging my feelings would have felt like admitting defeat.
I wasn’t clueless about childbirth. With eight years of experience in women’s health, I understood pregnancy, labor, and postpartum realities. I knew the physical changes women face. But the emotional complexities? Those were an unknown, and that terrified me.
On the morning of my C-section, I remember sitting on the couch, anxiously waiting for it all to unfold—waiting for the operation, the pain, and eventually, the relief that would come afterward.
In the operating room, I filled the silence with jokes and small talk, avoiding thoughts of the surgery itself. I engaged with the medical staff, asking them about everything except the procedure. I wondered if they thought I was losing it or if they recognized my fear while they efficiently carried out their roles. As I lay there, I chatted with my doula and husband, but my mind was elsewhere. I could hardly focus on what they were saying; I was only aware of my own breathing and the rhythmic beeping of machines around me.
Then came the moment my daughter was born. The surgeon announced, “Congratulations!” as she lifted a tiny, pink, squirming baby above the screen that shielded my view from what was happening below. I turned to my doula and said, “Wow, this is weird.” Then I went back to my endless questions. Within five minutes, my baby was placed on my chest.
At that moment, everything became real. As her warm body rested against mine, it began to sink in: she was my baby, and I had just given birth. This baby was real. This surgery was a birth. The transformation happened when her soft skin touched mine; I softened in response. In that cold, sterile room, I held the warmest, sweetest little being—my baby.
Looking back, I realize that by scheduling my C-section, I chose my baby’s birthday. How incredible and beautiful is that? My mind had to go into survival mode to navigate the surgery, but even if I didn’t focus on my baby during the process, I still gave birth. I made it through, and I welcomed my prize. Some women may find empowerment and excitement in their birthing stories (and I celebrate those experiences). Others, like me, may endure childbirth to move on to the next chapter of their lives. Both paths are valid and acceptable.
Yes, I carry that post-C-section warrior scar. Yes, I now feel accomplished because it’s behind me, and I survived. But I didn’t feel that way at the time, and that’s perfectly fine. If your experience isn’t the fairy tale you envisioned or if you didn’t focus on your baby while giving birth, remember this: you don’t have to adore the birth experience to cherish your baby.
For more on this journey, check out this insightful post about home insemination. You may also want to explore Cryobaby’s home intracervical insemination kit as they offer excellent resources. Additionally, this guide on IVF can provide valuable insights into the pregnancy process.
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Summary:
This reflection shares the author’s experience of giving birth through a C-section, emphasizing the emotional detachment and fear felt during the process. Despite not thinking about her baby during the surgery, the moment of connection came afterward, highlighting that every birth experience is valid, regardless of the feelings surrounding it.
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