Unfortunately, my desire to have my baby naturally was just not meant to be. Somewhere around my 37th week, my baby decided to flip himself out of the head-down position and turn breech. My obstetrician (who was wonderful, by the way) advised against trying to turn the baby, since I was a first-time mom with my abdominal muscles still good and strong. He had never been successful at turning a first time mom's breech baby, so he wasn't hopeful in my case either. King and I trusted him wholeheartedly, and decided that the safest thing for our baby, as well as for myself, was to deliver via c-section.
Throughout my entire pregnancy, having a c-section had not been an option. I wanted to experience childbirth as millions of women had experienced it through the ages. All natural. No painkillers. No epidurals. No surgical interventions. And when the topic of c-sections came up into conversation or was covered in our childbirth classes, I admit, I tuned out. It was NOT going to happen to me. But, of course, things don't always go the way we plan for them to go. My cousin, who had had 3 c-sections of her own, gave me a piece of advice for handling the disappointment: when it comes to kids, you sometimes have to just go with the flow. We don't always get to choose our birth stories, and that's ok, just as long as Mom and Baby make it through alive and well. This is what I kept telling myself.
Even so, I was still disappointed. My husband King, although very sympathetic and understanding, didn't seem to grasp the situation entirely. As a man, I think it was kind of hard for him to see why it was so important for me to deliver naturally. Don't get me wrong, King was WONDERFUL throughout the entire experience--the pregnancy and delivery, alike; however, I believe that his sympathy and understanding could only go so far. He couldn't see inside my head, just like I can't see inside his. No matter how open we are with one another (and believe me, we're very candid with one another about our emotions), there are just some feelings that we can't fully experience alongside each other.
For me, experiencing childbirth meant being inducted into a sacred community of women. It signified a rite of passage into womanhood, so to speak. Now I realize that delivering my baby by c-section doesn't make me any less of a woman or mother, nor does it make my baby any less special. But to be honest, every once in a while, I still find myself feeling gypped that I couldn't fully experience the thrill of going into labor, rushing to the hospital with my husband bags in tow, feeling the contractions push my dear baby out through my body and his skin against mine during kangaroo care. For the most part, I've gotten over these kinds of feelings and have embraced my birth story. No, it didn't happen quite the way I originally wanted it to. But my sweet, little baby made it into this world just as he would have had I delivered naturally. No matter which way he came, all that really matters, is that he came.
Ian King Simpson arrived into the world at 7:58 a.m. on Friday, September 16th, 2011 at the Medical Center in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He was 8 pounds, 3/4 ounces and 20 1/2 inches long. He had blonde hair that mostly covered the back of his head, and had "storkbite" birthmarks on his forehead and left eyelid, beneath his nose, and on the back of his neck. Our little Ian is now almost 5 months old, and he is the happiest, most contented baby you'll ever meet. We just love our little Snoozy with all our hearts!
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