On C-Sections...And How I Finally Made Peace With My Body

**Just a disclaimer to all of you wonderful and lovely women still in the IF trenches; while I respect all of you and pray for you daily, this may not be the post for you. I would hate to trigger any negative emotions, and while I assure you that I do not for one second take for granted the children I have carried in my womb, I understand that it may appear this way as I long-windedly work out my thoughts. I appreciate the time and space to do so and would hate to offend anyone. Thank you!**

So, today my doctor and I had "the" conversation. I was scheduled to come in for my 28-week appointment, and I knew that I would also be having an ultrasound to determine the rough weight of this sunny little babe inside of me and with it, my likelihood of achieving the illusive VBAC of my dreams.

Why did I care so much about having a VBAC, you might ask? Maybe some of you understand, but certainly some of you (especially those of you who have had more painful/brutal labors) do not. But, you see, when I was at the lowest point of my infertility, delivering my own baby was all I could think about. Rushing to the hospital in a frenzy, laboring intensely, and, finally, after much struggling and certainly much pain, pushing my baby into the world with the strength that so many mothers have done before me. I could see it all...even the screaming and cursing! I wanted my perfect natural birth, and, foolishly, I thought that if I could just achieve a viable pregnancy, the rest would surely follow.

Frankly, I knew it before I even walked in the door. My sweet little Sunny has been THROTTLING me lately with kicks much harder than his sister's (yes, I fully believe that you are a boy now!), and there is rarely a moment where I cannot feel a hard little body part sticking out of my stomach somewhere. Yes, I already knew the answer--my Sunny is a big baby. And the ultrasound confirmed it. The doctor estimated that Sunny could be anywhere from 2.5-3.5 pounds already, and that he most certainly would be as big, if not bigger, than his sister. Even though I knew this, as I said, I felt a familiar wave of emotions wash over me as I listened to the doctor deliver this news.

No, your body will not be able to birth this baby on its own. No, you are not a candidate for a VBAC. No, you cannot do what God designed your body to do.

You see, this is how I felt when I realized that I would have to have a c-section to deliver Eileen. I did not share these thoughts on my blog because, honestly, I was ashamed. She was, and is, a miracle. How could I possibly reveal how ungrateful I had been?!

So I let it go, for the time being. But the seeds of that resentment stayed with me. When I became pregnant with Sunny, I thought about and prayed for the possibility of a VBAC. Neither my mother (five children) nor my aunt (two children) nor my grandma (four children) had been able to deliver naturally--simply not in the cards given their genetics/bone structure. But surely I would be different?! Surely I could do it, if I simply prayed hard enough?! Surely I would receive this "gift" of natural childbirth, the way that God had intended it, if I simply held on to hope with both hands?!?!

Sounds ridiculous, right? Right. And after a lot of introspection, I actually think I understand the root of it.

How often do we, the post-IF community, recognize a feeling within ourselves that so clearly hearkens back to IF days that we find ourselves a bit shocked? Why did I react with jealousy to my friend's pregnancy announcement? Why did I feel such a pang in my heart when an acquaintance of mine announced the birth of her third child, simply because I am not yet at that place with my own family? Why do I sometimes, STILL, after all of this time, feel so angry that I did not get to hold my sweet daughters in my arms? 

Oh, how I hate feeling this way. And similarly, when facing the "brokenness" of not being able to achieve a natural birth, I felt those IF feelings return in full force--the frustration, the despair, the sadness. I felt angry. I felt confused. I felt defeated, once again, by the limitations of my own flesh. 

But after a conversation today with my doctor and, for the sake of full disclosure, MANY conversations with my mother, I have finally come this conclusion--my feelings are real and therefore they are valid to me, but even so, it is time to LET THOSE FEELINGS GO.

My doctor (and my mother...and my husband...and myself) reminded me that I have achieved pregnancy not once, but four times. Yes, two of those souls are in heaven, but one is safely here on earth and another is safely in my belly. Praise God! This is amazing.

I achieved this current pregnancy with NO MEDICAL INTERVENTIONS WHATSOEVER, and have successfully sustained this pregnancy with very little medical treatment. Praise God! Another victory.

I have successfully nursed a baby at my breast and had no issues at all in sustaining her life. I achieved this completely on my own. With no one else's help. Praise God!!! So many wonderful gifts.

So, you see? I CAN do things on my own! And isn't that the point?! 

Well, actually, it's not.

Despite my hang-ups, despite the imperfections along the way, my body (and, consequently, my entire person) has done amazing things. Truly awe-inspiring things. Absolutely mind-blowing, jaw-droppingly incredible things. 

But. 

It's not about HOW I have done these things at all. It's actually about the "things" themselves. 

Pregnancy. Childbirth. Nursing. Motherhood.

And more than that, it's not actually about ME at all. Because at the end of the day, I am just a vessel for greatness. And I should be more accepting, and exponentially more grateful, for the chance to be just this.

My c-sections are just another way in which God has chosen to humble me, and I must welcome this. What is the alternative? Resenting something that has ultimately brought me the greatest joy I could ever imagine, just because things did not happen exactly the way I wanted them to? Holding onto these feelings would be toxic to my soul, and offensive to God. I know this now. And so...in writing this post, and in my every day thoughts and words and meditations...I must finally, finally let this go.

To all of you c-section mamas out there, and to myself, I say this: you are no less a mother than those who have experienced natural childbirth. You are tough. You are strong. You are a warrior! You carried a child and released them into the world, just as every mother before you has done. Praise God for the miracles of modern medicine, because they have delivered you and your child safely from crisis. 

(Of course, most of you probably already knew this. I fully realize that not everyone is as petulant as I am!)

And to all of you mamas who have experienced natural childbirth, or a combination of both: You are tough. You are strong. You are a warrior! You carried a child and released them into the world, just as every mother before you has done. You have endured pain and suffering to bring your child safely into this world, and God is so pleased with your sacrifice. 

And, last but certainly not least, to mamas that have not experienced childbirth, or have experienced a loss during childbirth, or any combination of the grey area that makes us ALL spiritual mothers in our own unique way: You are tough. You are strong. You are a warrior! You carry your cross with grace, faith, and dignity. You are not forgotten, and Christ walks with you each day. 

Apologies for the rambling nature of this post, but I really do feel better having expressed my complicated thoughts on this subject. I am READY for my c-section on May 31, and I pray for the strength to navigate my surgery with a clear mind and a full and grateful heart.

So, the only fitting way I can end this speech, is to say...

...Sunny, I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET YOU. My heart is full of joy.