I find having had a c-section to be a very lonely place. I don’t relate to women who are traumatized and surprised by their sections (mine was a planned section for breech with a nuchal cord and I wouldn’t have opted for a vaginal birth even if it was an option under those circumstances). I also don’t relate to people who celebrate or minimize c-sections (I’m not a fan of OBs and mainstream maternity care). I had been seeing a midwife and planning on a birth center birth before my journey turned surgical.
So here I sit feeling pretty alone at times with the “ok” feelings I have about my son’s birth and the loss I feel surrounding it, too. I think it’s great that you’re keeping the dialogue open to remind us all that even the same pink scar can accompany a multitude of circumstances and experiences.

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Thanks for your perspective. I wonder if many of us who were traumatized by it would have been okay with it if we either knew ahead of time that it was going to happen, or at least felt like we made the choice with all the information available to us. I wonder if I would have been okay with it if it was truly necessary.
I think often times those of us who are traumatized are the women who went into labor and “failed” at it – or the women who may have signed up for it easily without having any information about an alternative and only find out later that they weren’t given the truth.
Knowing what factors are specifically traumatizing might help us all understand how to cope a little easier.
Thanks for your input. This should be talked about a lot more, and from as many different perspectives as possible.

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I’m still traumatised 7 years after my birth. I didn’t have a C section but i was very close to it.
I had an induction at 39 weeks for pregnancy induced hypertension. I had continuous monitoring which meant i had to lie down throughout, 3 failed epidurals, then because i was lying down baby wouldn’t move.
So i was lying on my back, pushing for 4 hours then had to go into theatre for a ventouse birth, that failed so i ended up with forceps and twisted abdomen muscles as a result.
For months after Ewan was born i felt like a failure for having to have someone pull him out of me.
The upshot of it is that, despite being more educated about how unnecessary inductions are pushed on women, i’m still terrified at the prospect of having a section that i’ll probably never have any more kids.

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I remember that part of the movie—so true. Jason actually watched it with me, and when Dr. Odent was discussing oxytocin and c-sections, he turned to me and told me he worries I would feel differently towards our next baby (wasn’t pregnant at the time) than I do towards Mason. He worried I would love the other baby more (if I indeed had a vaginal birth next time). I told him I would absolutely love them the same–but of course their births would be different. Of course I would probably have fond feelings towards a vaginal birth more than I do Mason’s c-section extraction.
Birth is so much more than “oh, the baby’s out!” SO MUCH MORE. Bad things can happen when you fuck with it. There is a great blog all about oxytocin, called Hug the Monkey. There is a birth section there. She posts so many interesting studies on how oxytocin and birth go hand and hand—and there can be startling consequences when the natural hormonal events of a spontaneous birth get tampered with.
Here is the link:
http://www.hugthemonkey.com/labor_and_birth/

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That’s really too bad. Limiting your family because of something that was done to you seems tragic.
Right after Jonas was born, I swore I’d never go through that again. I said that was it. But John and I were both “only” children, and we both hated that. We each had very different upbringings, but not having any siblings was terribly sad for both of us, and its especially hard now that we’re adults. We don’t have anyone, blood related and raised by the same parents, to turn to. It sucks. Knowing that is what made me (us) go for it again. And of course I’m thrilled that we did. Ultimately it set things “right.”

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My husband and I are both only children, too. Weird…Now I’m going to have to meet you somehow
One of the saddest moments was when I realized that no matter how much vbac research I did, I could never have my firstborn that way. I somehow thought that if I “got into it” enough and did all my homework, then I could have my son vaginally. But it wasn’t meant to be. It will never be that way for us. And I sometimes feel bad that having a “better” (vaginal) experience with the next one would diminish his birth somehow. I almost hate for them to be born differently even though I WILL NOT be gutted like a fish again. Gee, guess I should be blogging about this rather than eating up all your comment space
Cheers,
Janya

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Before we had Jules, I could not imagine loving another child as much as I loved Jonas. I worried constantly about how I’d feel toward a second baby, especially if he were born differently. I cried when I thought about the possibility that my heart wouldn’t be capable of belonging to more than one child at a time.
My aunt said something important to me… She said “love doesn’t divide.. it multiplies.” And she was never more right. I love my children differently, but equally. Actually, I think I love them each more now that I could have singularly. There is something about seeing them together that is just heart-wrenching, in a magnificent way. And I know that they’ll always have each other. I think they’re incredibly lucky in that way. My husband and I are jealous.
It makes me sad when other people don’t get that feeling, for whatever reason (choice, inability, etc.) It also makes me sad when a woman doesn’t get to experience vaginal birth. It’s so life altering. Like I said at the end of my birth story, I wish every woman could experience that feeling. I’d hand it out for free, if I could.
Do you have a blog? I’m always looking for something to read when I should be working.

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http://minkcoatandvelvetsweatpants.blogspot.com
Never updating as much as I should, but working on it!

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Oh.. THAT’s you! I’ve been there. Now it’s all coming together.

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I had the car wreck feeling after my son’s delivery, but not nearly to the same degree as with my daughters. The first c-section was presented as an emergency at the time (which it was, but only because my OB ignored the many signs which could have prevented it). The second one was more relaxed and it was absolutely necessary (my first one wasn’t really).
I have been able to come to terms with the necessary surgery in a way I never could (and don’t think I ever should) with the first.
We watched bits of the movie again last week. I got it to show the kids the births since ours will be coming up soon. While watching it, I, again, heard them talk about how amazing they felt after giving birth naturally. I never had that and I mourn never having a chance to feel that way-particularly to feel that way about my children.
I could ramble about this forever, but I wanted to say that even though we didn’t know about our c-sections in advance, the first was far more traumatic than the second (and we actually had far more of a clue that we’d have a c-section the first time around). It had a lot to do with the circumstances (we know we did everything right the 2nd time and our midwives were competent and caring).

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FYI, the movie I’m refering to is “The Business of Being Born.” I just reread my comment and realized that wasn’t completely clear.

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For the sake of a balanced perspective, I would like to let moms out there know that a lack of bonding isn’t always the case with a c-section.

We had planned on a completely natural labor, but my daughter was breech. After efforts to turn her in the womb failed, we delivered by c-section, the one thing I’d dreaded during my pregnancy. I cannot stand the idea of a c-section. However, that was our only option.

I honestly don’t feel robbed of my perfect birth experience. We know that what was done was best for the baby. After my daughter was born, they brought her to me as the doctors were sewing me up, and I knew then that she was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen in my life. As they cleaned her up and I was brought to recovery, I craved that baby, longed to hold her. She was quickly brought to me, and I’ve been in love with her since that first moment. For us, there has never been a wall between us. In fact, I was on a complete high after “giving birth,” even though it was a surgical birth. I couldn’t sleep that night and I didn’t nap the next day either. I went nearly 48 hours without sleep, because I had just given birth, and I had a baby. Anytime my daughter was brought to my room, I felt no pain from surgery.

Nursing was incredibly difficult, so I won’t minimize that. A medicated body will not respond the way that it should, so it took us 2 weeks to teach my daughter to properly latch. It was an uphill battle, but we fought it and ended up with 17 months of sweet breastfeeding.

I hope this encourages anyone who is like me and has no choice in their form of birth. You can still bond with your child after a c-section.

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