This is me immediately after my C-Section:
The picture above is many hours after my elective caesarean birth (second baby), after a rest and after doing my face (and I’m a makeup artist).
This is the REAL me after my Elective Caesarean. SHATTERED. Post puke:
This is me straight after my first birth (Emergency Caesarean):
During my first pregnancy I felt so pushed/encouraged/forced to want the most ‘natural’ birthing experience imaginable.
My antenatal class pretty much told me that if I wasn’t drug free and deep breathing, then I was doing my baby a massive disservice; he would start off in the world a drug addled loser and probably stay that way.
My class had some outrageously hippy name like ‘Holistic Healthy Baby’ (which sounded so damn idyllic, but now makes me rage) so really I should have known what I was in for.
I don’t want to start a fight with people who choose to birth ‘naturally’ with no drugs and breathing through your vagina, because seriously, kudos to you.
That is phenomenal.
But it is not the definition of motherhood. As my French friend Anton says “Would you even consider getting a tooth pulled without anaesthetic? Why are people in this country so obsessed with birthing without medication?” It does seem that for some parents an extra achievement badge is earned for their fortitude/luck/efforts.
My very best intentions were thwarted when over 30 hours after my waters had broken, my contractions were minutes long and had only a few seconds between them. I started with the gas but it wasn’t long before I screamed “GIVE ME THE *……* EPIDURAL”, then promptly fell asleep after it was administered.
I was awoken by my (absolutely divine) midwife who informed me that she was worried as my baby’s heart rate was dropping (gosh the details are hazy. Was it dropping or rising? I can’t recall), there was meconium and he was distressed.
What followed was probably just a routine Emergency Caesarean, but for me it was TERRIFYING. I was so scared that there was something wrong with my boy and began to panic.