After the first bit of panicking when I found out I was pregnant, I started thinking about the birth I wanted. A home birth would have been ideal but our insurance wouldn’t cover any of it and my pregnancy was so unexpected we didn’t have any money saved. That was out. A midwife in a hospital? Not bad, but the medical group we were seeing didn’t have any midwifes. Another great option gone. An unassisted hospital birth with just my husband and minimal nurses and doctors? That would have to do. I was okay with that, I really was. It put my husband at ease and I had been told the hospital followed birth plans very well. I then dedicated a ton of time to researching hospital births and birth plans. I quickly started writing my own so I would have plenty of time to revise it as my pregnancy progressed.

 

What I wanted was the normal “Hippie” stuff. Skin to skin, breastfeeding, delayed cord clamping, my husband to cut the cord, peaceful music, no “drugs”, walking, you name it I had it. I think my original plan was four pages. Ridiculous I know. As my pregnancy progressed things got harder, and more complicated. I changed my birth plan accordingly and I was still fine with what was going on.

 

At 30 weeks I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension, basically high blood pressure caused by pregnancy. I started seeing my doctor every week, twice a week. I was put on bed rest so I began to gain a little weight which didn’t help anything. At 35 weeks I found out I had developed pre-eclampsia. If I had been told if I can just make it to 35 weeks it would be okay. Just 35. My blood pressure got out of hand and the doctor decided to induce me at 37 weeks. On Halloween actually. I was okay with that. I could trade a perfect birth for a healthy baby.

 

The night before my induction I wouldn’t sleep at all. We got up early to head to the hospital, they go us right in, everything got started quickly and we were so excited. Everything was fine, contractions were bearable and I believed in myself. After  increasing the medication until my contractions were a minute long and a minute apart and breaking my water I couldn’t take it any more and got an epidural. I was okay with that too. I could still do this. Yes I was disappointed in myself but I was having a baby before he was ready and I needed help.

 

Six hours later and I was still only at 5.5 centimeters. Really? Great. I was trying to rest and talk to my husband about taking a nap and all the food I was going to eat once the baby was out. The doctor came in with my nurse (who was the bomb by the way) and said she thought we should talk about getting ready for a C-section.

A C-What? No, No That’s Not In My Plan.

You are going to do what? No thanks I like my guts where they are.
 You can’t give me any more medication to make me have stronger contractions? I know you have more in the back go get it and leave my belly alone.
You are going to go get cleaned up? For what? I’m getting ready to take a nap.
No, I was getting ready to drink this awful stuff to keep me from puking and put my hair in a net. I started shaking uncontrollably and a million awful scenarios went through my head. I was given extra medication through my epidural to block more pain since I couldn’t get anything else jabbed in my back. Within 30 minutes I was laying under a blue drape waiting for my husband to come in while I frantically told them “Please don’t start until he is here, I can’t do this without him. Please wait for him.” My sweet nurse kept telling me they would wait and thank goodness I trusted her.
 My husband came in and they started right away and just a few minutes later our son was born. He went to take pictures of him being weighed and measured as they stitched me up. When my husband brought our son to me and I was far too shakey to hold him but he was absolutely perfect.
unwanted csection
A few other things happened and the following days were not the best but I was okay. My son was perfect. I spent way too much time beating myself up for not being “woman enough” to have my baby naturally and not enough time being proud of myself for saying “Yes, I am willing to wear this scar for life so that my baby can be born.” I had a C-section I didn’t want but it was what was best for my son, and that is all that matters.

 

You are not alone. There are a lot of badass momma’s that have unplanned C-sections and we rock. It does get easier to accept as time goes on and you meet more momma’s. Always know that you are “Woman enough” and tell your story with pride.