April is dedicated to the unsung birth heroes.
The birth stories that don’t necessarily receive all the thumbs ups, high fives and Facebook shares.
April is dedicated to caesarean section births and the stories of brave women who maybe go against the grain but who still give birth to their children with strength and beauty.
Caesarean Awareness Month aims to raise awareness and educate people about caesareans, and through the awareness campaign support a reduction in the number of caesareans in mothers who do not really need or who will not benefit from this procedure when compared to a vaginal birth.
It does not take away from mothers who had the procedure.
Instead, it aims to help mothers-to-be make more educated choices and receive the support they need when recovering from this major surgery.
Though when April 1 rolled around I had no idea it was Caesarean Awareness Month it is a subject that is close to my heart as I myself gave birth to my beautiful baby boy via caesarean almost 11 months ago.
Something not everyone understood, with some making comments that I had taken the easy way out or that I wasn’t really a mother because I hadn’t “given birth”.
My birth story I suppose goes like many before, with me approaching the end of my pregnancy and being faced with the idea of giving natural birth – an idea I admit filled me with dread.
The idea that my water could break at any moment made me very anxious, upset and even afraid – in short, I was freaked out completely – as only fear of the unknown can do.
But after some thought, I came to peace with the idea by keeping in mind that as long as my baby was healthy and happy I could handle the rest, and hey, women had been doing this sort of thing since the beginning of time.
We continued to plan for the baby’s arrival, buying bits-and-bobs as we approached the estimated D-Day.
However, the idea of natural birth was soon taken off the table for a number of medical reasons including the leakage of my amniotic fluid.
My gynaecologist’s words to my husband “So next Wednesday you officially become a daddy” and the look on his face is something that will be engrained in my memory forever.
Fast forward a few days and a bucket load of emotions later and there we were in the car in the early hours of a dark and chilly winter’s morning – as the biggest storm in more than 30 years lashed the Cape.
We were as calm as two soon-to-be parents could be, pretty sure that there were no more surprises in store for us.
We were wrong…
Before we had even collected my hospital file from the front desk we were told we were expected in theatre.
A whirlwind of paperwork and preparations began, some on our way to the theatre, as the doctors and nurses were waiting for us.
And then we were waiting in the cold recovery area that’s walls were covered in the typical surgical equipment you would expect, shining under bright hospital lights.
My husband was taken, much to my disgust, to get into theatre scrubs while I was wheeled into theatre for what I have to admit was the scariest part of my procedure.
I was told to sit on the edge of the bed and not to move as they prepared to administer the epidural and spinal anaesthesia – the anaesthetic would be injected near the spine and would numb my abdomen and legs to allow the surgery to be pain-free while allowing me to be wide awake.
Seemed simple enough until I was told that if I did move, the needle could be placed in the wrong spot – which could leave me paralysed…
As though preparing to have my stomach cut open wasn’t enough to worry about – I held my breath and forced every cell in my body to be still and only relaxed when, for the third time, the nurse asked me to relax and lie back.
I was reunited with my husband, after which, things moved at break-neck speed and before we knew it – and after having my ribs broken it felt like – my husband was called to cut the umbilical cord and we heard the first cry of our baby.
After cuddling my baby for a moment he was whisked off with my husband in tow.
I was left to stare at the ceiling, feeling the occasional tug as I was put back together.
When I was wheeled back to my room, shaking due to a reaction to the anaesthetic, I noticed a clock on the wall…
Only 40 minutes had passed.
How amazing it felt to know that my entire world and the worlds of my near-and-dear had changed completely in less than an hour.
The recovery from the caesarean was tough but manageable, even as I now question if my scar should feel the way it does.
My journey to motherhood was filled with ups and downs but it was amazing and I wouldn’t change a thing, as I believe my caesarean allowed me to bring my baby into the world safely.
I will gladly take the criticism for my method of birth proudly because I know that I was able to give life, a life that I am able to nurture for years to come – and no amount of bad press will take that away.
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