Dearest blog readers,
I feel obligated to tell you that I have decided to have another c-section.
Say whaaaaaaaat?
It’s true. In case you’re relatively new to this blog, here’s the short version of my first birth:
I found out at 36 weeks pregnant that Everett was breech. I did everything in my human power to flip him around (picture me lying upside down on an ironing board with frozen fried rice on the top of my stomach and headphones in my underwear). Nothing worked. I even had a painful procedure done where a doctor stood over me and manually tried to turn the baby with her hands. That didn’t work either. So, my casual laid-back birth plan of maybe-I’ll-use-a-birthing-tub/maybe-I’ll-use-a-doula/maybe-I’ll-use drugs turned into C-SECTION OR BUST. I had no choice.
And Everett was born healthy as could be and we were all fine.
This past January when I found out I was pregnant, I knew that I had a decision to make: VBAC or repeat c-section. That decision haunted me almost immediately, but I was grateful to have the choice.
And here’s where I am going to be totally, perfectly, 100% honest with you. The truth is: I had no desire to do a VBAC.
And nobody was shocked by this more than me.
I remember during my c-section, I explicitly asked the doctor to check out my insides and make sure there was nothing wrong with me. I remember asking that same doctor during my postpartum checkup if I would be a good candidate for a VBAC and feeling a sense of relief when she said yes.
So, what changed?
I have no idea. Time and perspective, I suppose. Looking back, I actually had a wonderful c-section experience. There were a lot of pros. It’s nice to know exactly when your baby will be born. It’s nice to show up at the hospital showered with clean hair and shaved legs. It’s nice to get the baby out of you in 15 minutes while you feel no pain whatsoever, and it’s nice to enjoy your first moments with your baby protected by a blue sheet bubble.
(Also, real talk: it’s nice to keep your lady parts in tact and not pee every time you sneeze.)
When I think back to my c-section with Everett, I remember it as a magical, wonderful, life-changing experience. I do not feel like I missed out on anything because I didn’t go into labor or feel contractions or tear certain things that were not meant to be torn. It was not the birth I had planned on, but it was the birth that I had. And because of that, the bright operating room and sterile environment that once terrified me is now my comfort zone. Meanwhile, the thought of doing a VBAC completely terrifies me. It feels foreign, and strange, and anxiety-inducing. I have a million fears about doing a VBAC, most of which are related to Everett’s 95th percentile head size and the possibility of ending up in a c-section anyways. I don’t feel confident about it, I don’t feel connected to it, and most importantly: I feel no burning desire to do it.
So that, friends, is where I have landed. I have done the research. I have talked to the doctors and midwives. I have read the stats and gone over the risk factors with both options. There are risk factors with both options. And ultimately, I have chosen the path I believe will be best for my baby and my body and my mind and my soul, and that is to have another scheduled c-section.
Our sweet baby boy will be born on Monday, October 27th. Barring no complications, we should be home in time for Halloween so Everett can go trick-or-treating while I stuff my face with well-earned candy bars.
Here’s to all of our birth stories, whether they involve water tubs or hospital beds or the backseats of cars (!) or operating tables. Let us all remember we are blessed to bring babies into this world, no matter how they get here.
