The Few Minutes I Remember

I was just reading A Day They’ll Never Forget from the Giving Birth with Confidence blog.  It’s wonderful to read stories like those – truly beautiful, uneventful (in a good way), unencumbered births.  I can’t relate to them at all, but I still have hope.

In stark contrast to these four womens, my children have been cut out of me.  I don’t remember all of the details of their births, and I never will.  Is it because of the anesthesia?  Is it because a cesarean section is a traumatic experience for the body . . . and the mind?  So many people just don’t seem to understand that it should be fairly uncommon for a woman to need to have major abdominal surgery as a result of trying to birth her babies.

My water broke just short of midnight one night in August 2009.  I was trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, but Baby A had been making that quite difficult for some time.  This night was no different.  I piled pillows up and tried to lie down in a modified child’s pose.  No sooner had I settled, Baby A started moving vigorously and with a swift kick, obliterated her amniotic sac.  I cried out – “They’re going to cut me open.”

I had hoped that Baby A would turn back from breech before they were born, but breech presentation was confirmed at the hospital.  I was prepped for surgery.  This is the end of what I remember clearly.

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