When I was pregnant with Brandon, I never gave too much thought into how I would give birth to him. I always, naively, thought that my water would break, we’d rush to the hospital and I’d give birth to a beautiful little baby boy. Then, I’d get wheeled out of the hospital, baby in my arms and off we’d go, a little happy family.
I never once imagined that he’d be early, except he was, by 7 week. I never once imagined that I’d end up having a C-section and that I would not get to hold him right away or that my first sight of my little boy would be him getting carried upside down across the operating room. Nor did I ever imagine that when I was ready to come home, that I would be wheeled out, empty handed, my little boy remaining in an incubator. I wasn’t prepared to come home and be a mom without my little boy there too. But that is how my not so birth plan went.
I have always accepted the fact that if we were blessed to have another baby, I’d have another C-section. I’d joke that I was okay with never feeling labor pains or risking my water breaking in aisle 5 of the grocery store. I was content. It was what it was.
Then yesterday, while we were watching reruns of Mad About You, I realized how I am really not content with that at all. It was the episode where Paul and Jamie are having their baby. In typical Mad About You humor, there are some funny moments leading up to the reason your watching; to see the birth of their first child. Paul encourages, Jamie pushes and before you know it, out comes this perfect little bundle of baby girl. And to anyone that has had that traditional birth experience, you know that isn’t how it really goes.
But I wouldn’t know. At least not from my own experience.
Cue pregnancy hormones. I start to cry. Now my husband will tell you, I don’t cry at TV. I’m just not one of those people. But here I was sitting on the couch…crying. And it wasn’t until he asked me what was wrong that I stuttered out, “I don’t get to have that”. It was then that I realized how much I was not okay with having another C-section and how much I wanted to have a normal birth experience. I wanted to hold my slimy little baby and look into his eyes and say, “hi, I’m your mommy”.
But I don’t get to have that. And here I am, 5 years later mourning the loss of a chance at a normal birth.
Would I risk it for my own selfish reasons? No. But I will always wonder.