Journey Towards Another C-Section

I just went to the hospital orientation yesterday for planned c-section Moms.  I somehow cannot believe I am now 'in that group.'  I've been wrestling with this on and off throughout this pregnancy and we had to make a final decision a few weeks back.  I saw numerous obstetricians, am under the care of midwives again, and went to a special VBAC clinic at Women's hospital.  They all pretty much said the same thing: not only are there too many risks of trying for a 'normal' delivery, but the chances of success in my case are very very low.  

I somehow knew this, and was already planning for it, but hearing those words again kinda threw me under the bus, emotionally.  I guess the dream had never really died.  All pregnancy I was waiting for someone to dangle a bit of hope that a VBAC might be possible, that maybe I could GI-Jane this baby outta me with sure stamina and will power.

But it's not all about will power, is it?

My first kick at the can, I gave it a fair try but after 25 hours of hard labour, fetal distress, and no change in my dilation, the decision was made for me.  My second try, literally everything happened almost exactly the same way.  My babies are small, my labour started and continued without intervention.  They were both in the 'right' position, but my body just didn't progress and my boys never 'descended.'  Aka: they were not fitting, something about the shape of me is just not quite right and it was not going to happen.

And now, at this point, my history (more than this pregnancy) dictates the plan.  If I wanted to try again, I'd have to be at Women's hospital (an hour away), would have to go to the hospital way earlier and the margin I would be given for success would be slim.  2-4 hours stalled out?  Automatic c-section.  I would be monitored, prepped and readied for the event of another emergency c-section.  Chances are slim, under such circumstances, that anything 'natural' would happen.  Of course, I could go all medieval and try to birth this baby on a stool at home.  Then I remember that many women died (and still die) in childbirth, or their children die.  Is seeking after some ethereal, mythical 'unicorn' experience worth the risks of that reality?   

I wish it were different.  I wish my body were predictable.  I wish my hips were more forgiving.  I wish 'trying harder' = 'greater chance of success.'  I wish our system wasn't so medical-ized.  Yet, here we are. As a Mom, or even as a person living on this earth, we don't always get what we wish for. We don't always get the 'easy road' like someone else seems to have it.  But then, we all have our battles, disappointments and detours, don't we?

I am still trying to figure out why, exactly, this decision carries so much baggage with it. Why is there a part of me that shrivels up when other Moms talk about their birthing experiences?  Or when they try to empathize with me saying "I almost had a c-section, so I totally know how you feel."  Why is a natural delivery so glorified?  We put such value on things in our culture, it's hard sometimes to gain perspective.  Does it really make me a better Mom if I only feed my children organic food?  If I exclusively breastfeed?  If I am able to push a baby out of me without any pain medication? Ridiculous, right?  

I'm grieving a little bit because I know what the recovery from a c-section is like.  Let me tell you, it ain't easy.  Not being able to eat for hours, stuck in a bed, unable to pick up your kids for weeks, stuck on your lower level of your home, I could go on.  I am told, and am clinging to hope that a planned c-section is just WAY better for both Mom and baby. That the lack of urgency puts everyone at their best and recovery is a walk in the park. That this time around, the recovery won't be akin to climbing Everest like it was the last two times.  Maybe.

Marking the date on a calendar- it seems so sterile and strange. 

Yet here I am.  On the road I didn't expect to be on, praying for more of God's grace to pour down on me and help me through another surgery.  At the end of the day, I know it doesn't matter.  We don't all walk around with labels about how we entered this world or how we birthed our children.  I need to 'get over it' so to speak.  Let it go.  Get on with it.  And mostly, be thankful.  Because surgery gave me him:

And him: 

And this and a million other precious moments might not have been possible if I were in a different time, living in a different place, or if surgery had not been an option for me:

So again I need to:

Be thankful that I was able to deliver two healthy boys, despite complications

Be thankful for a medical system where mortality isn't a strong possibility with the birth of one's child

Be thankful for the ability to carry children at all, a gift and not a guarentee

Be thankful that we live in a nation where we can take significant time off of work, and still make ends meet.

Be thankful that our husbands can even take time off with us, and nurture a new life (Jason is taking 4 weeks off)

Be thankful for family nearby to help out

Be thankful for medicines to ease discomfort, to prevent infections, to ensure recovery- and the ability to access them

Be thankful for new life, a new soul, a new baby in my arms no matter how she got there

Let it go, Shannon, let it go.  You have a great God who has done marvelous things and this too will be woven into His perfect plan for your life.

And with that, I choose to close this chapter.  Move on.  End discussion.