I cringe a little when I hear someone say, “You should just have a planned C-section.”, or “You should have a water birth; it’s so much better.” While I respect almost everyone’s opinion on what an ideal birth plan would be, I’m reminded of a conversation my step-dad and I have often:
Me: I have a plan.
Step-dad: Let me know how that works out for you.
There are some very qualified people out there to give you advice on a birth plan (e.g., obstetrician, perinatologist), but births may not follow a plan. And you may suffer from undiagnosed PTSD and write a blog post about it while still trying to forget that you have a C-section scar 3.5 years later. I just didn’t want a C-section, ever.
I’ve written before here about my time in the hospital on bed rest with our twin girls.
At 29 weeks, when my water broke early in the morning, the nursing staff acted like they’d just give me some medicine and I’d be on bed rest several more weeks. Within a couple hours, both babies were born and in incubators at 3 pounds 1 ounce each.
Baby A was born natural (no time for an epidural even) and Baby B was C-section. They gave me some pain shot in the stomach though, and I was so grateful for that. They also gave me some anti-nausea medication, but it did not stop the throwing up.
Later that night, after my husband went home with my ten-year-old daughter, my body went into false labor, which feels super awesome on top of that C-section. After escalating drugs, the care team finally knocked me out with something the on-call doctor had to sign off on.
We spent the next 64 days in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).
In the beginning, Wrenly had an infection, which is why my water broke and I went into crazy fast delivery. She had to have two forms of antibiotics and a spinal tap. It was sweet relief to hear nothing went to her brain.
There were countless other tests, including awful preemie baby eye exams, and many very long days where I watched monitors and prayed. We RAN out of the NICU when we were finally allowed to take Wrenly home.
The doctor that delivered our babies that morning was not my doctor. My doctor had assured me he would try everything in the world not to perform a C-section on me. I can’t explain my irrational hatred for the C-section, but it was a strong personal feeling. The fact that I vomited all the way through it, and still deeply hate that scar means I’m not over it. However, I got to keep my 3 lb. baby girls. I get to be cranky with the 3-year-old healthy girls that make messes and talk back to me today. I’ll call it a successful story, and I’m grateful to the care team for that. Many stories aren’t successful (despite best efforts), and my heart aches for those parents.
Whatever your plan, be strong, but be flexible.
If you’re giving (unprofessional) advice, be cautious.
