Why having a cesarean is NOT a fail

‘Do you feel bad that you didn’t give birth?’ he asked. Well, how do you think these two kids got out of there?

I read a blog post recently in which a woman actually said she felt like she’d failed her husband by having a caesarean. I think my blood may actually have boiled. Whilst I felt a tiny bit sorry for Mary-Sue (let’s just call her that because I feel that someone with this name would probably really worry about upsetting her husband by giving birth the wrong way), I actually wanted to go up to her, stand an inch from her face, and tell her exactly what I thought about her ‘fail’.

Okay, breathe. I’m not even going to start with the slice and dice bit. I’m going to start with the haemorrhoids. The haemorrhoids. Like little mandarins, clinging to me for dear life as a result of the morphine administered during the operation. They were proof in themselves that I had indeed GIVEN BIRTH. Second to them (and I mean second, because this was way less excruciating), was having my abdomen sliced open, and God only knows how many gloved hands rummaging about in there like it was a lucky dip. I half expected someone to pull out a Kinder Surprise.

Then of course, watching with part awe, part mortification as my legs flopped open in front of my distinguished obstetrician as the spinal kicked in, not being able to move, and muttering a very English, “Oopsie, sorry about that,” as each thigh landed with a splat on opposite sides of the table. I die.

A friend recently said to me, “You’re so lucky you didn’t have to go through labour!” Oh, but sister, I did. Eighteen hours of it before being shunted in for an op. Fail? I think not. Olympic-style endurance test? Oh yes.

She continued, “And you’re so lucky your vagina is in tact”. Erm, yes, well admittedly a baby’s head didn’t pass through it, but I still have a hulking great scar on my abdomen that also needed stiches, multiple sitz baths and a great deal of TLC to heal. And did I mention the haemorrhoids?

Finally, to the friend of my husband’s who said to me, “Do you wish you’d actually given birth?” I will repeat what I said to him. “See those those two children over there? How the fuck do you think I got them out of me if I didn’t give birth?”

Dear, dear Mary-Sue. You gave birth. You didn’t fail. By having an epidural, a caesarean (planned or otherwise, it’s your business), forceps, gas and air, or, God-forbid, you listened to One Direction whilst you were pushing, you are by no means inferior to someone who may have delivered their baby drug-free standing on their head (*Cough* Miranda Kerr). But hey, this is all redundant, because as any mother knows, the actual birth is the easy bit….

Why do you think there’s still a stigma in some circles about c-sections?