Hello everyone, it’s me, finally finding time in the whirlwind of motherhood to sit down and put some words to some feelings! First off, one thing I have discovered since my boys were born three months ago is that there are a shit-ton of ways in which being a mom can seriously mess with your head. There’s the anxiety and worry over your child’s well-being, guilt about all the ways you fear you’ve messed them up already, “mom-brain” and other effects from sleep deprivation, and don’t get me started about everything my mind, heart, and soul has already been through after infertility, IVF, and a high-risk pregnancy! Oh, and then, of course, for some of us there’s full-blown post-partum depression. Yes, it’s official, having a baby is the ultimate mind-fuck (also pretty much the only kind of fuck you’ll be having on a regular basis, btw).
I’m so thankful I haven’t dealt with PPD, and most days I don’t feel a ton of guilt even though I’m (gasp!) not exclusively breast-feeding and leave my twins with their nanny on the regular. But I have had my share of head-space issues, and I’m sure those will continue throughout motherhood (i.e., the rest of my life). Today I want to share one particular feeling that keeps rising up no matter how much I try to squash it down–birth envy.
To put it simply, I had a C-section, and now I’m super jealous of all my friends who have pushed or will push a baby out their vagina. That’s right, I actually wish that I had gone through the excruciating experience of traditional, vaginal birth.
I knew early on in my pregnancy that I would most likely have a C-section, and for the most part I was totally okay with that. Twins complicate birth, and it made me feel secure and safe to know that their birth wouldn’t be a dramatic affair and that they and I would be as safe as possible. Then, when I was about 36 weeks pregnant, I developed pre-eclampsia. Within a few days, my blood pressure dictated that I birth the very next day, and a scheduled C-section made that easy. In the aftermath of the surgery, though, my blood pressure was difficult to control, and both my babies ended up in NICU within hours of birth, so from the get-go I didn’t have an ideal experience despite the C-section itself going very well and being completely painless for me. Then, as the weeks and months have gone by and several friends and acquaintances have given birth vaginally, I’ve started to feel more and more dissatisfied with the fact that I didn’t have a true labor and delivery.
Each birth has a story, and I sort of feel like my story is the lamest and dullest of all. One friend who gave birth two weeks after I did progressed so fast that she popped the baby out while her husband was out in the hallway. Another longtime friend of mine labored for 45 hours, rejected a bunch of interventions, and ended up delivering a 9.5 pound baby. Even my friend who labored for an entire day, pushed for three hours, and then had to have a C-section because of factors outside her control at least had the labor experience.
I’m not a glutton for punishment and I’m not that crunchy. Even before I conceived I never had my heart set on a natural birth in a cloud of incense under the light of the full moon. I would totally go for the epidural if given the chance, so my birth experience jealousy isn’t about going through pain, per se. I think it’s just that a pregnancy is such a long journey, it deserves a climax. You spend those months anticipating the birth and, near the end, wondering when those first contractions will strike or when your water might break, setting everything in motion. A scheduled C-section might be good for the type A person, but I think the uncertainty and chaos of going into labor for the first time would have been exciting. But at 36 weeks I never got to find out. Never a twinge of labor pain. Just an appointment time and BAM–two babies.
What it boils down to is empowerment. Giving birth has got to be one of the most empowering things a woman ever does. It’s such a feat, physically and mentally, to bring that child into the world, that I would imagine it leaves her feeling so strong and proud. I know I gave birth, too, and yes, I went through pain when recovering from being cut open, but that deep sense of accomplishment and empowerment seems missing for me. Rather than having to dig deep within myself, face fear, conquer pain, and defy the limits of what a body can do, I just reclined on an operating table and waited to see the results. Instead of doing something incredible, everything was done to me.
That’s why the green-eyed monster has been rearing its head every time I overhear mom convos recounting their contractions, crowning, pushing, and having the baby placed on their chest, and why supporting my friends who have given birth recently stings a little.
There’s a club made up of the majority of all women who have ever lived, and I’m not in it.
Yeah, somehow in the movies they are always pushing them out- but of course the important thing is that you and your two boys are safe and healthy. Maybe a vaginal birth would have gone fine and been rewarding, but maybe not. I say you made the right call.