A tale of two births

I had one of those moments today where I wondered about the way that my beautiful daughter may have been affected by her birth.

She got injured at school, nothing too major, but for sure a painful bonk on the head from a baseball bat. The teacher told me she was very brave and didn't cry at all, but by the time we got home it had caught up to her and the tears started to flow. I pulled her onto my lap in a comfy chair and tried to cuddle her, but as she sat their stiffly I realized she didn't want to be held and cuddled. I asked her if she wanted to be alone and she went off to lay on her bed. I thought of her in that little plastic box that they put the babies in at the hospital and wondered.

Now, I certainly realize that all people are different and some are more touchy-feely than others. I don't know if that's just the way she is (and it is certainly a fine way to be, I don't mean to disparage), but the part of me that is obsessed and possessed with birth can't help but see the difference between her and her brother without wondering how her less than touchy-feely beginnings contribute to that aspect of her personality.

Even if there really were no long-term effects from her birth, I still mourn for the beginning she did have. She was yanked into the world (by the feet according to the operative report) and taken to a hard table surrounded by strangers and bright lights. There were no familiar voices talking to her, only strangers, and strange sounds, doing strange things to her fragile little self. When she finally did get to see her Daddy and finally hear a familiar voice it was through the plastic of an oxygen hood. He was scared to touch her and no one told him it was okay to do so. She was wrapped in rough towels and had a rough bath. She cried through the whole thing until her whole body was red with the effort and no one stopped to comfort her or cuddle her even still. Finally dried and wrapped up like a present she was rolled in her plastic box to meet her drugged out, zonked out mother. I'm not really sure how I greeted her, I don't remember much of it. At least she was surrounded by family and people who loved her when I was too sleepy and out of it were able to hold her and greet her properly.

Meeting Roxy, hours after her birth

Obviously she is a sweet and adorable, kind and dear little person so we know that our birth is definitely not the predetermining factor on our personalities. But it's still not what I wanted for my baby and I put a lot of effort into making sure my next baby got a better welcome. I couldn't control everything about it but I wanted to do everything I could to make sure it was a more gentle beginning. He was eased into the world, as gently as possible. The midwife helped receive him, but he went immediately into my hands. He didn't leave them for hours afterwards and even then only to the end of the bed for a quick newborn exam. A midwife gently checked him over, always touching and soothing him, so that he never cried. He was immediately cuddled again by a loving relative and anytime I wasn't the one holding him someone else who loved him was. Again, I don't know if it is directly caused by their births, but he feels much different about wanting to cuddle with his mom and he always has, and either way I wish that Roxy had gotten the same warm, gentle welcome.


Meeting Erik, instantly

I'm grateful for my cesarean with Roxy, things had gone rotten and she needed to be helped out by doctors and I'm very thankful for their skill, but I still mourn for what we missed out on. I can't help but wonder if I had been up walking around instead of lying in a bed on a monitor if her little head would have fallen into the pelvis where it belonged. If her head had engaged then she might not have been able to do a somersault and the cord might not have prolapsed. Or maybe if I hadn't been bent over a table for 10 minutes while an epidural was being placed, what effect did that have on her position? Obviously crazy stuff happens and I could have done lots of things differently and she may have still have done that same somersault, but I can't help wonder how even those small interventions may have taken her birth off course.

Nothing can be done differently for my daughter's birth, it is in the past now, but what about the babies that are yet to come? I really hope that we can think more about the ways we disturb birth and whether it is worth the ramifications for our babies. The U.S. cesarean rate is abysmal which means that 1/3 of all babies get a beginning almost as crappy (or crappier) as my daughter got. That sucks America, it really does.

Now for the caveats...yes, I know that many cesarean babies get a more gentle beginning than mine did. Most of the time the baby's dad is in the room and the mother is awake and able to greet her baby, but it is never ideal. I'm grateful for the care providers who do work hard to make things gentle, and hope that more providers learn from them.

Cesarean moms, this post is in NO WAY intending to make you feel guilty about having an abdominal birth. We all did the very best thing we could for our babies in that moment in time. We all did the noble thing and laid on that table to be cut from hip to hip so that our babies could be safe. Unfortunately we know that with a 33% cesarean rate, not all those operations were necessary and that is the part that I want to change. I truly honor the women who sacrifice their own bodies to get their babies here safely.