One of my favorite things to share with other moms is birth stories. I truly love them– the more detail the better as far as I am concerned. I want it all: the fate of the mucus plugs, the harried spouses passing out, the intrusive in-laws. I can’t imagine ever getting tired of hearing how other women brought children into the world.
And, every time I hear a story, I hold my breath: Did she or didn’t she? While I hope that other mothers have the births of their dreams (even though I don’t know anyone who did, especially the first time), I hold my breath with each new story because there’s the potential of finding someone else who had a C-Section. I find myself still longing for other mothers to commiserate with over unplanned C-Sections.
No, I don’t want to dwell on it, but I still feel pangs of disappointment and unexplained (and ungrieved) sadness about how scary, unexpected, and hard-to-recover-from my C-Sections were. Every now and I think I find a mother whose story sounds like mine— “We waited as long as we could, but then they handed me the papers to sign and gave me a spinal and I had a C-Section.”
Check out my new post here at Mom.me wherein I give in to mourning about the C-Sections that resulted in two beautiful healthy children.
Funny, I don’t mind the scar at all, though I am digging the idea of C-Section tattoos (if only I weren’t afraid of needles and permanent ink). My kids love to touch my scar and ask me about it. When they do, we talk about how they came into the world and I am in touch with every ounce of joy I am capable of feeling. But to you, people whom I didn’t give birth to, I can say–”Man, it was a bummer to have C-Sections, and I still don’t understand why that disappointment/pain/sadness runs so deep.”