I need to write a blog about cesareans and disappointing birth experiences…but where to start? My mind goes crazy, racing to several different places and wondering where to start.
I suppose I should start with myself since my personal experience came first in the line of stories I feel I need to share to illustrate my point.
My point! See, I told you my mind is racing. My point of this blog will be summarized thusly – “at least you have a healthy baby’ is a crappy thing to say to someone when they have had a cesarean and is disappointed in their birth experience. I pray by the end of this blog post that you have a deeper understanding of WHY that is crappy and how it makes a mother who is disappointed feel.
Okay…so back to my own experience. Many reading this blog may not realize that while I have 5 children, I have only carried 4 of them myself – we were told by doctors after years of infertility that I would never be able to conceive or carry a baby (if there is interest I am willing to share more on that story at another time in a different blog post). As I was raising my first child, I became very active in the birthing community. I was a certified doula and childbirth educator teaching classes in various locations around the Denver and Boulder, Colorado area. I had seen my son’s birthmother push my son into the world (his birth parents lived with us for the last 4 months of her pregnancy) and assisted in many other births in the following years.
Then I was pregnant – with a lot of assistance, I was pregnant. I planned a homebirth, I transferred into the hospital while in labor, and I ended up with a cesarean.
Not how I wanted to meet my baby! Still in recovery, my mother shows me a photograph of my daughter who I have not yet met while my nurse smiles and my doula holds my hand.
When I made the decision to transfer into the hospital (yes, I made that decision), I cried before getting into the car. When the decision was made for surgery, I cried again. And I cried many times over the next few years.
I remember telling my sister (who had experienced 5 births – all vaginal) that everytime I think of my daughter’s birth story, I cry. I remember her response so clearly even though it was 12 years ago…”Awwww….a little postpartum depression?”
No….sad at the way that my birth experience went.
Then she said it…”At least you have a healthy baby.” And I went off on her – YES, I had a healthy baby and obviously I put that factor above ANYTHING else and I’d already proven that by going under the knife in order to achieve it! But to say those words to me tells me that you believe I no longer hold that in high priority, that I am being unappreciative for her health and well being. Nothing could be further from the truth.
So let me make this point absolutely crystal clear: someone who has undergone a cesarean has already shown through actions that she would do anything to ensure the health and well being of her baby! She has already shown that THAT was the highest issue on the priority list. At least she has a healthy baby… not only invalidates anything else she might be feeling, but it also points out that she got the very least of what one would consider a good outcome. That was the last and final thing hoped for because all other dreams and expectations had to be sacrificed.
My first child – adopted. At least I got a baby! Absolutely true, but I was still sad that I couldn’t be the one to feel him kicking inside of me, envious of her ability to nourish him and grow her belly big and full with him, to birth him. I got a baby but was sad that it had to occur in the manner in which it did. I had to sacrifice many dreams in order to achieve the biggest one – but the “at least” statements insinuate (nay, they state pretty implicitly to the listener) that if you are sad at the dreams that you’ve lost then you might not deserve the one you achieved.
A picture I took of dad looking down at mom who can't even see his face - she is prepped for surgery and waiting for them to begin.
“At least….” I hate those words to begin with. Nothing good comes after those words because they are an attempt to minimize whatever had gone wrong. Your house burned down? Lost all of your possessions, your 3 children, your spouse and your goldfish? AT LEAST YOU DIDN’T BURN UP TOO!
See how ridiculous those words can be? Things can always be worse than they are – but that doesn’t negate that sometimes things right now suck.
I recently had a client who ended up transferring to the hospital for medical reasons, and she ended up in a cesarean. She is intensely disappointed and even bringing up the thought of her birth results in immediate tears (and breaks my heart). Is she ungrateful for her healthy baby? Absolutely not!! She sacrificed her body for her baby’s health, she put herself at risk with anesthesia and major surgery….all for her baby’s health. And as sad as she is, if you ask her if she’d do it again if it was for the health of her baby she would answer without hesitation – an emphatic YES! She began her motherhood with sacrifice and PROVED she would do anything for the health of her baby. To imply that she might have lost sight of the blessings of having a healthy baby by saying, “At least you had a healthy baby” is to refuse to acknowledge that she’d already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she places her baby’s health above her own.
Same couple as above - mom sees her baby for the first time, already bundled up and being held by dad. This is typical with a cesarean.
Yet as she was prepped for surgery and they were beginning the cesarean, she cried…and a nurse said to her, “Why are you sad? Your baby is about to be here…and will be healthy…”
Sigh
She was sad because she was being cut open rather than feeling her baby crown. She was sad because she was in a hospital where she didn’t want to be in the first place. She was sad because she wasn’t going to be helping her husband lift their baby from her vagina into her waiting arms. She was sad because she wouldn’t be able to hold her baby right away – or even touch her baby for a while. She was sad because she was going to watch her husband (dressed in scrubs and masked so that she would lose who he was in a sea of masks) carry a burrito bundle out of the room while she remained splayed out getting stitched up. She was sad because she now doubted her body like she never had before.
Why does it matter why she was sad? Why should she have to explain to someone else what it was making her sad? SHE WAS SAD! (she still is) Acknowledge, embrace, assist….don’t gloss over and demean her feelings by telling her she’s silly for feeling them.
At least you have a healthy baby. What if you don’t have a healthy baby…..
I got called by someone who would become a good personal friend of mine. She was pregnant and knew that she would birth out of the country and wanted only prenatal care from me – she was a VBAC, so I couldn’t officially establish care with her, but I helped her some as a friend since she was moving at about 30 weeks of pregnancy. Each appointment I would feel her baby growing, kicking under my fingertips, thriving. She embraced the pregnancy with such blissful joy and anticipation of the birth that she would float into my office bringing sunshine with her at every visit. It was a sad day for me when we had our last appointment. I handed her a copy of her records to take with her – and she (a professional singer) sang to me “Amazing Grace”. Tears flowed for so many reasons and as I hugged her goodbye it lasted a bit longer than normal, neither one wanting to let go.
She kept in touch regularly from Peru, baby growing, all is well, past my due date but everything is perfect, just had an ultrasound at 41 weeks and everything is absolutely perfect and well.
She went into labor…and labored blissfully, smiling, rocking on her birthing ball at the birth center. Baby’s heart rate beautiful, you’re dilating perfectly…
An hour later they tried to listen to the baby and he was gone (a freak cord accident – absolutely nothing to do with when or where or how she was birthing). An ultrasound confirmed it, and she said as they finished the ultrasound, “I have to call Stephanie, I need to hear her voice.” I will spare you the level of anguish and deep intense pain I felt in my heart receiving that phone call and hearing her say, “He’s gone…”
We only had a few minutes to talk before she said, “I have to go…I am 6cm dilated and still in labor. I need to birth my baby.”
And birth him she did! She achieved her VBAC and birthed her 10 pound son through her own power!!
Okay, stop here and let’s talk about this. Why did she not have a cesarean knowing that her son was dead? Here is the point that I think so many people don’t understand….there is the outcome, and there is the journey, and they aren’t one and the same for a lot of women. She would change her journey if it would change the outcome, of that I know for 100% certainty. But the outcome was done, the only thing she could do is continue her journey. A cesarean wasn’t going to bring her son back…but she could still feel powerful that she did everything she could for him. And powerful she was! Sad for her loss, and yet proud of herself. Heartbroken for the baby she is no longer holding in her arms, but happy for her experience.
In contract to my other client who is thrilled for her baby she holds in her arms, but sad for her experience.
That’s because they are two different things. Women will do anything to ensure the health of their baby, but it doesn’t mean they are happy they have to do it! I went through IVF (twice) to conceive my daughter – doesn’t mean I enjoyed it or was happy to do it! Means my daughter was worth it to me.
My cesarean incision
Please do not act like someone who had a cesarean has lost sight of the importance of a healthy baby – they are acutely aware of that importance and have proven it with their actions. Please do offer a loving ear, a hug, acknowledgement of their loss (as they hold their baby) and joy for their accomplishments. Allow her the freedom to express her loss and feelings of helplessness or frustration without trying to make her feel better for having gone through the experience.
And to the clients referenced in this post…I love you both and hurt for you in your sadness. There is no “at least” to follow that statement – things could always be worse as long as we are still alive and breathing….but what you’ve experienced sucks and I’m sorry.
34 Comments
I haven’t experienced a cesarean birth myself, but it made me ache for my clients that have…Thank you Stephanie, for sharing!
Thank you… I have struggled many times to explain why that statement offends and hurts me so deeply, but my explanation is always a cloudy one. My heart still aches when I think of my birth experience. Thank you for writing this for all of us.
Oh, wow… thank you for the insight! I’m sure I’ve said the wrong thing the time or two so I’m really glad to have this perspective.
And I, for one, would be really interested in hearing more about your journey to your first pregnancy. People I love are going through similar experiences.
Yes, the journey does matter. Thanks Stephanie for wiring about it.
Yes, the journey does matter. Thanks Stephanie for writing about it.
Thank you, yet again, Steph. I have had this conversation with many women and myself even (less than ideal birth of my son). We are blessed to be in a community where we can find support to celebrate as well as mourn our birth experiences.
GREAT post!! I am sure that I have been the “at least” person without realizing it before. It is so hard to know how to be a good friend in such situations…this was an incredibly helpful post
. LOVE your heart <3!! You are AMAZING
This clarity is so desperately needed, not only for those talking to mothers but for the mothers themselves. When confronting my own strong c-section fears what ultimately helped me was to say to myself “I have the strength to birth my baby however my body and baby need to birth.” It reminded me that I set myself up for the best birth possible for us and that if we needed surgical assistance not only would it be truely needed but that I could be just as proud of myself for facing that birthing challenge as I could be of working through our homebirth. Disappointment, relief, fear, anger, joy….any emotion a mother has about her birth is hers to have and anyone else should be there to help or just love her through it not skirt around it. I hope with this perspective more mothers who may feel disappointed, sad, or any other way about their birth experience can accept their feelings as valid and “at least” take pride in what powerful mothers they are because every birth involves sacrifice, its just sometimes the sacrifice is unexpected and sometimes it is too high but ultimately every mother makes different sacrifices for their babies and every one of them deserves to feel her own super-hero-ness….because I promise it is in every mother.
That was so well said. Thank you.Sometimes it is hard to explain “why”. Acting like the experience of how your baby comes into this world doesn’t matter is like acting like the 9 months of pregnancy and the experience you had (good or bad) doesn’t matter. Why can people sympathize with a mother who had a “difficult pregnancy” but can’t understand why a c-section is so traumatic? I have had both and people always seem understanding of throwing up ten times a day, and bed rest for 3 months, but when I say c-section they say, “at least…or even worse, well at least you didn’t HAVE to push a baby out!”
Thank you, thank you, thank you. A year after my daughter’s birth, I love her more and more every day…but I can’t think of her birth without tears (and had them even reading this post). It’s something that most people don’t understand, or really care to. All they see is the end result…”at least you had a healthy baby.” OF COURSE I’m grateful for that…but can’t I mourn for the birth experience I didn’t have?
This post is beautiful Stephanie. It is so true that people don’t know what to say, and I am grateful you are saying what needs to be said. I am so sorry to the clients that you have had whose birth experiences did not turn out the way that they had planned. It is hard to grieve that loss, and to find hope and strength for the future. It is amazing how strong your find yourself on the other end, but that doesn’t mean that you forget. I only hope that I use the experiences from both my pregnancies and births to be able to enjoy the moments and time that I have that much more, and to remember that the destination and the journey are two separate experiences. Thank you for the reminder
Love this!!!! I felt this way for my first birth and when my second transferred to the hospital (my daughter was born in the abulance…surprisingly healthy) I was able to say “all that matters is a healthy baby” to the waiting OR team. So there! It felt so great to turn it around on them! They were also not very appreciative of the comment.
Fabulous post. I loved this: “Here is the point that I think so many people don’t understand….there is the outcome, and there is the journey, and they aren’t one and the same for a lot of women.”
I never say, “At least…” because it takes the mother’s feelings and tosses them out as if they don’t matter. However, you’ve given me a new way to look at that, and a new determination to be tender to the women who haven’t been able to birth the way they had desired to.
Thank you. My first c-section was medically necessary due to velamentous insertion of the cord and vasa previa. A NIGHTMARE! I requested vbac for my second and was TOLD I was supported by my dr. At the very end I found out I was NOT supported. After vasa previa I was so scared that I didn’t want to switch drs. Since he didn’t support me in vbac I had a second c-section and feel like I failed. My body is VERY different only after the second c-section. Thankfully I have two beautiful boys. But I am still sad over both birth experiences. I feel like I didn’t give birth. I feel like I was an unactive participant waiting while the dr surgically removed my children from me. I didn’t have a cuddle moment with either one until 4 hours after the came into the world. Thank you for writing this so well. I don’t talk about my births much because I do get a lot of “at least”s.
By the way, after my second was born, I was able to let the anger and failure from my first birth go. I realized in myself that my strength and my motherhood was not lessened by my c-section and that my gratitude for having my daughter healthy was stronger than my sadness for not birthing her the way I had wanted to. This is just one of the gifts that my son was able to give me.
Thank you, Stephanie. It IS about the journey. It is about how we have such high hopes for our babies to have a gentle entrance into this world, and not being able to give that to them feels so awful… it felt like I was failing him from the get-go. All I really remember during the surgery itself was crying, mine and my son. But articles like this, and the local ICAN meetings, have really helped me shift my perspective that while I may not have wanted that particular journey, I can still be proud of what I did do for him. And that helps the healing so much!
I’m sorry to you and all the mamas who have had birth experiences that were not what you dreamed of. You explain it perfecty!
I am a psychologist and frequently tell my clients (and friends and family) that the two things someone who is sad need to hear are some version of (1) that sucks and (2) I’m sorry.
I planned a home birth. I had a wonerful midwife, lovely prenatal spots and I dreamed of giving birth in my bathtub. Then my daughter stopped growing. Instead of my home birth I got two weeks in antipartum and a cesarean at 30 weeks, then 2months of NICU care. My daughter did well, and came home tiny but healthy. AND I cried and mourned the birth I didn’t get. Thanks, steph, for once again putting into words EXACTLY what I wanted to tell the countless people who said those dreaded words to me.
YES! This is so true. I think that if we acknowledged and accepted a moms feelings about her birth, it will help in her healing, both emotionally and physically. My first was born by cesarean and it was heartbreaking in many ways. I just needed love and support for what I was feeling, not judgement!
Thank you for writing about this Stephanie.
POWERFUL! Thank you so much for sharing. I had a csection with my first and an unassisted home birth with my second. Your blog was accompanied by many Amens!
I felt like a failure after 13hrs and 3 hrs of pushing and a pitocin labor i had already given up my dream for a natural birth as I gave in for demirol and an epidural and the doc had a “limit” to how long a woman could push. I had a section and was not very happy about it and my mom talked me into a hospital delivery due to “I wouldn’t know how my body would react” I should have went with my homebirth like I wanted. I opted for a VBAC the second time. It was the most glorious experience ever that I literally screamed at the top of my lungs “I DID IT!” But I remember my mom telling me that
at least you didnt have a homebirth or it couldve been a disaster” I told her: “no it would have been much different.”
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. It’s been two years now since my failed VBAC and I still have strong feelings about not getting the birth experience I wanted. After having a c/s with my first, I was disappointed, but knew we would have a second child and therefore, I would be able to go for a VBAC. I did everything in my power to make that happen but my son had different plans and alas, there I was in the operating room again, crying and beyond devastated. So many people told me “well at least…”they just didn’t get it. When I went in for my 2 week check up, my midwife asked me how I was physically and I told her great. She then asked me how I was emotionally….and I looked at her and just broke down sobbing. She hugged and held me all the while telling me she was sorry and she understood. Two years later, I still feel she is the only who truly understood how I felt….until I read your post. Thank you so much.
after my csection this is how I felt about that comment: Your birth day can feel like your wedding day. It is a rare and special occasion. You plan, you hope, you want it to be beautiful. Then, your wedding day gets rained out. The roof caves in, the flowers spoil, the guests fight. The day turns into a disaster. Under high stress you manage to run out the back and quickly sign the papers with your spouse. It was a difficult, stressful and maybe even horrible day. And then someone says, “well at least you are married”.
THANK YOU for putting into words what I felt after my cesarean. My first born son had a beautiful home birth. When we found ourselves pregnant again, we planned for another home birth until at 25 wks we discovered I was carrying twins. We were simultaneously on shock and overjoyed at our double blessing. Unfortunately it also meant I would have to deliver at our local hospital according to state law. The doctor we choose said I was still a perfect candidate for a vaginal birth because of my prior drug-free, natural birth and because both babies were head down. I mourned for the loss of a home birth but was thankful i could still have a vaginal birth. On the day of their birth things were going great until I suddenly found myself out of control and screaming that I was dying (and not in a I’m-in-transition-sort-of-way. I’d gone from 9cm to 7cm but with excruciating contractions bearing down on me less than a minute apart. The doctor discovered that both babies’ heads were in essence presenting ~ they were both trying to come out at the same time!!! My cervix knew it needed to close up but my uterus continued trying to push them out. We tried every position imaginable (I had a great doctor who truly understood what I desired) but baby b just couldn’t move back upbecause of the powerful contractions bearing down on her. Neither piton or an epidural would have helped at this point . . . only a cesarean. Afterwards PPD set in and so many people told me, “Well, at least you have two healthy babies” while inside I’d scream, “but that’s not the point!” Thank you for writing this piece. I will be sharing this with others!
Thank you so much, Stephanie! (I’m just reading this now — through an ICAN of RI post on Facebook — although it was posted in August.) I’ve always hated being made to feel guilty when I’ve expressed sadness and frustration over how my birth experiences went. After the 1st (an unplanned c-section), I was terribly traumatized and had an awful experience with the care I received, but felt “at least” (ironic, no?) I could change practices and hospitals, and go for a VBAC the 2nd time. I did, 19 months later, and had excellent care and a much better birth experience, right up until then end… when I had another unplanned c-section. It was then that I mourned that I would never again have a chance to have a vaginal birth. (Two children, I always knew, would be it for me). I don’t want anyone’s pity, I just don’t want to be told that I’m not entitled to my feelings, as uncomfortable as they may make someone feel. Thank you again!
THANK YOU so much for this post!
My first was a normal birth, not the best but happy enough. Then my second little boy arrived by c- sec I accepted why now but still hurts I could not push him like I did previously.. now I am expecting # 3 boy again I been supported to have a vbac despite being classed as high risk, my reasons still make me eligible to birth him properly… I know how those words hurt, I questioned myself when told ” I carried him, I delivered in the only option I had, I protect him now etc have I not proven that his health is my highest priority???” I was sad I could not push, the trauma of the needle and the reminder by the scar and its ordeal problems that arised for upto 18 month later including reopening after a year… its all tough but yes I can say I experienced both sides the coin… yes I can say I got 2 beautiful boys and another kicking away… yes us mothers who have put out our dreams for the highest good of our glorious kids deserve to not to be told at least….. !!!
Our pediatrician knew I had planned a natural birth at a birth center and ended up with an emergency c-section due to pre-e and an induction gone haywire. At my son’s first check-up after coming home, she asked me how I was handling my “grief.”
Grief? I didn’t know I was allowed to grieve! I immediately burst into tears, and she did as well. Grief at the journey cut short and de-railed, but certainly not at the joyous outcome.
Thank you for sharing this post on the distinction between the two.
I had the perfect birth plan 33 years ago. Yes I was going to go all natural no drugs. I wanted to feel and experience natural child birth. God has a plan for all of us and natural child birth was not in his plan. I developed an infection that was passed onto my son. I did not realize how sick I was until years later. My child and I could of died, but with having a c/section when we did it saved out lives. I know some women feel like they were dissed with vaginal child birth but have a healthy child is such a blessing. I have had 5 c/sections and do not regret it when I see the smiles of my children. Keep praying for peace with your sadness ladies.
This is so beautifully written and explains so prefectly how is feels to have a dissappointing birth experience.
After laboring for 30 hours at home with a midwife in attendance I was taken to the hospital and had monitors, pitocin drugs and a forecep delivery.
Love my child but hated the hospital experience.
The next two birth were at home with the midwife.
This whole post resonated with me so much. I cried through a lot of it, because it seems like finally someone else understands. I literally feel sick when someone says “at least you have a healthy baby”, because of all these things you have mentioned. As I prepare for a VBAC with our forth baby, I find all these emotions come flooding back because I tried to bury all of it, feeling like I had no right to feel that anguish because I had a “healthy baby”. I would never say that to someone now, and instead would really encourage them to sort through their feelings and acknowledge them.
Thank you so much. I read this whole article in tears holding my son to my chest. Still crying while writing this. I never knew how to explain why I feel so devastated about my birth experience. I always felt like I sounded ungrateful, because people always pull the “at least…” card. Thank you so much for this article.
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