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Feeling a little robbed.


posted by Once A Mother on

32 comments

Here is a short update. I have a lot to say, I am feeling many different emotions right now, but exhaustion is winning in the battle for my attention, so my words might be a little limited.


I am feeling a little robbed.
I'm sorry.
I just am.

Please don't get the wrong idea, the snowflakes are growing beautifully - today's ultrasound has Baby A measuring at an estimated 6 lb 5 oz and B at 5 lb 11 oz - but it confirmed something else too - Baby B has gone breech. 

I know, I know. There are so much bigger things in this world to worry about than the method of delivery of these twins, and even I feel a little silly after all the heartache it has taken to get here, to be admitting how disappointed I feel by this (Lord knows I am so grateful that these snowflakes have continued to thrive and be healthy and grow, grow, grow) but I have always wanted to birth a baby, and it is a chance I see slipping away and that hurts.

People love to tell me how a c-section is "simple." How it's "no big deal." They love to tell me how its "in and out in 40 minutes" and blah blah blah, but I missed Peyton's birth. I was there, in the room, but the drugs, or my reaction to them, had me somewhere else. I was too exhausted. I didn't get to kiss her face, to count her toes. She was whisked from my body, and then from the room, and the experience of birthing her was like being a drugged up spectator to what should have been the biggest moment in my life. 

I have always had these images of how I wanted to birth my children. In my mind, I saw myself pushing them out into this world, then having them placed onto my chest and cleaned off. I envisioned myself crying, and holding them near me, and just the amazing experience of being in that moment, me - hubs- our children - pure joy.

What I got instead with Peyton was a fogged up hour, followed by a nauseating ride down the hall back to my room, a terrible diagnosis, and shivers and vomiting that came so violently post anesthesia that I hardly even saw my daughter's face before she was taken away to another hospital.

There was nothing "simple" about my c-section.
Nothing easy.
Nothing to be desired.

So maybe it sounds ridiculous that this would be so heartbreaking for me, but VBAC was another way to separate this birth experience from that one. It offered the opportunity to be "normal," to do what millions of women have done for millions of years to bring babies into this world. It was a chance at birthing these babies in a completely different way, in a completely different environment, without encountering countless triggers and reminders of all that went so horribly wrong the first time.

VBAC felt like the key to all these things, and I can't help but to feel a little robbed at the realization that my chances at attempting it are slipping away.

32 comments

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