The minute I saw the pink or blue line on a pregnancy test, I began planning my pregnancy and dreaming about my little bundle joy. It wasn’t until I felt the first kick that I realized, eventually this child would have to come out. It was only then that I began planning my delivery. After taking prenatal classes, I had created my ideal plan of how I want my delivery to go. I wanted it in a hospital (in case of complications!), I wanted my husband, parents and sisters in attendance, I wanted a midwife to guide and deliver my baby and I wanted to avoid medication (especially an epidural!) to make my delivery as natural as possible. The funny thing is what you want when you are in a calm state and what you want in the heat of the moment are totally different.
Luckily with my first two children, I more or less stuck to that plan. My babies were born into a happy, warm environment surrounded by love, encouragement and familiar faces. They were placed in my arms right out of the womb and nursed almost immediately. When I was pregnant the third time, I wanted to have the best delivery possible. I dreamed of the good parts from both my previous deliveries and decided that this one was going to near perfect. Unfortunately, my DD had other plans.
My pregnancy began the same way as the other two did, minor morning sickness, accurate belly measures and a healthy fetuses. It wasn’t until my 39th week check up, that my dreams of the perfect delivery fell apart. When the midwife measures my belly, she had trouble location my baby’s head position. Later, an ultrasound confirmed that my DD was Frank Breech, I was in labour and my baby was going to have to be delivered by an emergency c-section!
A C-Section experience
A cesarean section is a surgical operation in which a baby is delivered through a cut in the front wall of the abdomen and womb. This procedure is often used when a vaginal birth carries a higher risk of complications. (WhatHealh)
I was admitted to the hospital, changed into a gown then examined by the On Call Pediatric Doctor. He tried to manipulate my belly, took an ultrasound to measure the size of the baby and came to conclusion that with the size of the baby’s head, he couldn’t guarantee I could successfully give birth to a breech baby. From that moment on, my dreams of the perfect delivery quickly dissipated. The warm, enjoyable birth was ripped away from me. I was scared, alone and emotional.
When it was time for my c-section, I was separated from my husband and escorted into a sterile, cold operation room. I was told to lay on the table, which was as wide as a balance beam, to wait for the doctor and the anesthesiologist. As I laid there masked nurses rushed back and forth preparing for my surgery, beeping and buzzing came from the many machines set up around me, and my fears of the unknown heightened. I wanted my husband, I wanted familiar faces and I longed for labours I had in the past.
The anesthesiologist then administered a spinal tap and I was hooked up to various machines. Lying on the thin table with with my arms stretched out on either side of me, made feel like Jesus on the cross. I felt vulnerable, alone and frightened. A curtain went up separating my upper body from my lower body and slowly the sensation in my lower body disappeared. A catheter was inserted, an oxygen mask was placed on my face and I literately felt trapped, with absolutely no control over my body, my delivery or what was about to happened.
Relief and anticipation began as my husband returned to my side. I tried to focus on the music playing in the operating room, rather then events that were about to take place. Next, the doctor told us we were going to begin. I could feel pressure being applied to my stomach and the sounds of tearing flesh, but felt no pain. I waited, half in fear, half in excitement for the cries of my newborn baby. Unfortunately fear over took me. My blood pressure rose, my heart beat spiked and the room began to spin. I was going to vomit, but being pinned down with an oxygen mask on my face, caused me to panic even more. DH noticed my fear and was able to remove the mask just in time.
Whether the timing was right or doctor was reacting to my fear, but I was reassured that in a few minutes, my daughter would be born. With one last gurgling noise and the sound of lungs being tested for the first time, my DD was raised above the curtain for me to see for the first time. She was beautiful. I longed to hold her and kisses and feel her little heart beat against mine. Instead she was taken away to be examined by my midwife, while I was stitched back up. DH left my side to ensure the DD was fine. I was jealous that I wasn’t the first to hold her, I was sad that I missed watching her first examination, and again, I felt alone.
Once I was stitched up, I said goodbye the great surgical team, rolled into my private room. There I saw my husband holding my beautiful baby girl, my parents with tears in the eyes and my sister grinning from ear to ear. My experience in the operating room was long forgotten and the love, excitement and happiness that I had come to expect from a natural delivery was restored.
A cesarean delivery was not my ideal delivery. It wasn’t something I planned on or even dreamed would be the result after two natural delivers. Although it wasn’t my choice, I am extremely grateful it was given to me as it probably saved my daughter’s and possibly my own life. For that reason, I would have another cesarean in a heart beat.