Birth is unimaginably profound, no matter the details of how it takes place. The emotions surrounding it are stronger than anything I’ve felt in my life; not only because of the magnitude of the event of bringing a child into the world and the resulting incomparable joy, but because of the way hormones take over and leave you feeling so emotionally raw for weeks afterward. Both times I’ve found myself replaying every single detail of the birth, faulting myself for what went “wrong,” grieving the loss of what “could have been” if things had gone differently.
My births have been the single two best days of my life because they are the days I met my children for the first time, but in many ways they were the hardest days of my life that will always be sensitive in my memory. I would never want to instill fear in anyone envisioning a smooth and blissful birth. I wish for that for every woman; I believe our bodies are capable of that, and I know so many who have had wonderful experiences. But sometimes things don’t happen quite the way we hope, whether because of factors out of our control, or because of decisions made based on the limited information we have at the time and in a pivotal moment. I have learned and truly believe that it is okay to mourn the loss of that idealized birth experience that is so heavily emphasized in today’s world. It is natural to be sad about what went differently than hoped and to simultaneously feel endlessly blessed and grateful for the gift of a beautiful baby. I have found so much strength in sharing about my experience and connecting with other women who have gone through something similar or can relate to the heartache I have felt from a traumatic birth.
Looking back, I never feared birth, in fact during my first pregnancy I was very excited for it. I was eager of course to meet my baby, but also to go through what I anticipated would be one of the most powerful experiences of my life and a beautiful rite of passage as a woman.
I did not have a rigid birth plan; I felt that I would go into it open-mindedly the first time around, and perhaps would have a more developed idea of my wishes when it came time for my second baby. I read Ina May Garten’s Guide to Childbirth and felt confident that my body would do everything it needed to do when the time came. I felt peace and excitement as my due date approached.
Peter’s Birth
At my 38 week routine checkup (two weeks before my due date), I was thrown a curveball that would change the course of all of my births. The doctor discovered, after performing a membrane sweep, that my baby had flipped into breech position (head up). He flipped at some point between 35 and 38 weeks — quite rare, but a major miss on the OB’s part that they were not checking this every single week, not to mention before willingly inducing labor. As a first time mom, I only assumed the doctors were checking what they needed to (hello?!). This left me in an unfortunate situation, as I began having contractions and the doctor told me I had no option at that point but to go straight to the hospital for a c-section. There was no time to try anything to flip the baby at that point.
I sobbed. I was in shock that things had taken a turn so quickly — I thought this would be a routine visit and I’d go home to wait to have my baby in the next couple of weeks. I blamed myself — should I have been making sure the doctors checked each week that the baby was head down? Should I never have asked about the membrane sweep? I was devastated knowing I would not be able to experience the type of birth I had anticipated, and wondering if maybe I never would. Yet I found a way to collect myself, put on a strong face, and once he was in my arms after the surgery I did not think much more about the way he came to me — the shock, the fear, the devastation. He was all that mattered. He was perfect and my joy was overwhelming. I was too occupied crying about how fast he was growing to think much about how the birth went down.
Pregnancy Number Two
It wasn’t until the latter half of my second pregnancy that the true toll of Peter’s birth hit me. Those feelings I had brushed under the rug were now flooding over me, and my anxiety escalated each day as this new baby’s due date approached. I spoke with friends and doulas and realized I was processing the trauma of my first birth. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and it was remarkable the level of detail I could recall about every moment — the doctor’s face when she realized the baby was breech, the out-of-body feeling of seeing my baby for the first time and not feeling as strong of an immediate connection to my baby as I would have imagined, seeing him for the first time only after he was already wrapped in a swaddle, and with so much pain in my shoulders I could barely enjoy holding him.
I did everything I could to prepare for a VBAC, read and researched endlessly, listened to countless positive VBAC birth stories, found an OB that was supportive, hired a doula to be there for extra support, and hoped and believed my second birth would be a “healing” one. I know so many women who have had successful VBACs that they describe as life-changing, overwhelmingly positive experiences. Unfortunately that was not the case for me.
Kit’s Birth
My due date came and went. Since I had Peter two weeks early, I had believed she would be early as well, so those last weeks absolutely crawled. On March 29 (one day past my due date), I started having some consistent contractions around 8pm. After talking to my OB and given that I’d had a prior c-section, I felt more comfortable being in the hospital to be monitored rather than laboring at home, so we made our way into the city to the (beautiful!) new Alexandra Cohen Hospital for Women and Newborns. I was admitted, but by morning the contractions had almost fully died down. My OB’s policy was that she would not induce with pitocin, but if I began contractions on my own (which I had), she would be willing to augment with pitocin. So she gave me this option and asked whether I would like to be (essentially) induced or return home and come back when true labor began. If this did not happen before 41 weeks, I would be admitted for a scheduled c-section.
At this point I was quite anxious being past my due date (though I know it is more common than not for women to go into labor well past their due dates) and felt fortunate to have the option to be induced and attempt a VBAC this way (though of course in an ideal world I would have started labor naturally). So we decided to stay.
I was only dilated 1.5cm, so they started me with a foley ball and a low dose of pitocin. I wanted to go as long as I could without an epidural, but knowing that contractions with pitocin can be harder to bear, I knew the point may come when I felt like I needed it. But it was important to me to be able to experience the feeling of contractions as they intensified, because it was something I felt I had missed from the first time around. The exact timeline is all hazy, but after a few hours I had dilated to a 4. Things were going well. Labor intensified and continued and by mid afternoon I was ready for the epidural, at which point I was dilated to a 6.
Following the epidural, the doctor recommended breaking my waters. Once that happened, I dilated quickly from a 6 to an 8. At this point, between the doctor and doula, everyone felt very positively that things were progressing well and that a VBAC looked very likely. I was ecstatic – I texted my family and close friends to let them know that things were looking good.
Then suddenly everything took a bad turn. Out of nowhere, the baby’s heart rate was dropping very low — suddenly a dozen people rushed into the room and it shifted into “emergency” mode. I was helped to move into an all fours position as this can help stabilize the baby’s heart rate, which it did. But as soon as I returned to a side-lying position or onto my back, the baby’s heart rate dropped again. I loved my doctor and in that moment truly felt she was doing everything she could to support my wishes for a VBAC. She had me try all fours once again, but this time the baby’s heart rate would not stabilize. I saw the look of panic in the doctor’s eyes, in Andrew’s eyes. She told me it was time to “call it” and move to a c-section.
Without hesitation, tears streaming down my face, I told her none of it mattered anymore – just get the baby out, all I cared was that she was safe. They pumped me full of more drugs and whisked me to the operating room. It felt like I was in a movie the way things happened so fast. There wasn’t even time for Andrew to be there with me – the baby was out within three minutes. She was left with a small cut on her shoulder from the briskness of the moment and the necessity to get her out as quickly as possible.
But she was perfect, healthy and beautiful. I, on the other hand, was in the most exhausted and traumatized state of my life – after hours of labor with pitocin and no epidural, nearly fully dilated, then rushed into an emergency c-section just when things were looking promising. It was, and still is, a lot to process. I struggled with feelings that this was all my fault, replaying again and again how things could have gone differently “if this” or “if that.” The doula I hired ended up bringing a negative energy to the experience and made me feel, in my vulnerable state, as if it was my fault that things ended the way they did. You remember every detail of your births, who said what, which tiny comments stung you, and you carry it with you. It’s very heavy at first, but it becomes lighter with time.
And after a difficult recovery all while trying to care for a newborn, now I’m in the throes of motherhood with two — a two-year-old and newborn is no joke! There are moments of bliss and even more moments where I feel like I’m in over my head. I have so much respect for all the mothers who have done it before me — I had no idea what it would really be like! I could go on and on about the postpartum period and the adjustment from one to two kids; it deserves its own post once the dust settles a bit. I am sure it will feel more manageable as we all adjust (and start getting some more sleep!)
I hope that sharing my birth story makes even one person feel less alone in their experience if it didn’t go as hoped. I’m not here to give you toxic positivity and tell you that “all that matters is that you have a healthy baby.” YOU matter too, and your experience matters. You deserve to feel heard and understood. It is so painful to feel like you have no control in these moments.
While I planned and prepared a “healing” birth experience this time and got exactly the opposite, I now believe my true “healing” birth will be having a planned and scheduled, peaceful and controlled c-section next time, if we are blessed with another baby someday. While it’s never what I would have envisioned or wished for, and I allow myself to mourn that loss, I’m ready to embrace the cards I have been dealt and make the most of it next time. And of course I am aware and endlessly thankful for how blessed I am to have my children, no matter how they came into the world. They are everything to me and I would go through anything just to have them here with me.
The last thing I will say is — be kind to anyone you know who has just given birth. Listen to her birth story. It is hard to describe how earth-shattering the experience can feel, how vulnerable and isolated you’re left feeling as you process the event among emotions that are already heightened with the hormonal aftermath, all while taking care of a new baby. In those moments it feels unfathomable that life just goes on for everyone else as if this absolutely insane thing didn’t just happen.
A recent Vogue article by Sarah Hoover really resonated with me. She wrote about her birth experience and how she wishes she could have replaced her traditional baby shower with a post-birth celebration, where she would share her birth story with all the women in her life, and feel heard and understood for the trauma she endured. “‘This is what happened,’ I’ll say. ‘And my story is worth telling.’”
21 Responses
Congratulations on your beautiful baby. It is very brave of you to open up and share your feelings on how your birth didn’t go according to your plan. I am the mother of 5 children and honestly their births were all different and none of them were how I imagined them to be. But I sit here reading your story holding my newest grandchild (he is number 6) in my arms and I can honestly say that no matter how they arrive in your arms there is no greater gift. You are very blessed with a beautiful family and thank you for sharing your life with all of us. I truly love reading your story.
How beautiful is that – thank you for sharing and for your kind words, it means so much 💗
This is so gorgeous and I’m crying! Your sacrifice is the brightest moment in this story. So glad Kit is safe and here. Love you!
Love you!! 💗💗💗
This is written so well and I really appreciate your perspective. It sounds like for both of your births everything changed within a matter of seconds, that would be so hard!! And with no time to process it because you’re immediately whisked into newborn life. A post both celebration would be so healing.
I also have a 2 year old boy and a five month old girl, and it is challenging. Sending you lots of love and solidarity and a belief that we will find our groove someday!
Two is such a whirlwind, sending the same love back to you! 💗
I had 4 c-sections, with 4 good outcomes. My first was so terror filled & traumatic, I’ll cry about it til I’m 90! I had dreams of a V-bac for #2, but couldn’t even try as she came 6 weeks early. After that, it no longer mattered to me how the were born. Without laboring first, the deliveries & recovery were much easier. (But those after pains while nursing got harder each time!).
My “baby”is almost 36 and delivery has certainly faded. However, when 2 of my 3 girls had to have c-sections, my heart broke for them.
Age is a good lens to view birth now – and I realize I would not have survived birth in an earlier time. So there’s that. But know many of us know your pain and disappointment and we know you’re not any less grateful for your babies. And we know you didn’t “take the easy way out.”
Thank you so much for sharing, your words mean so much! 💗
Thank you so much for sharing!!
Congratulations on bringing baby Kit into the world!! Thank you so much for sharing your birth story-it absolutely IS worth telling and so many of us are listening. I am still amazed at how you have the energy to keep up with a toddler, care for and feed a newborn, share with your followers, and create a new home–all on maternity leave!
You are so kind, thank you so much for your thoughtful words 💗💗💗
I just loved this! Thank you so much for being vunerable and sharing your experience.
I am 25 weeks pregnant with my first child (a baby boy), and I love reading real stories about birth experiences.
Once again, thank you.
Congratulations – so exciting for you and hopefully you will have a much more peaceful experience! Sending love 💗 Thank you for your kind comment.
I had almost identical experiences (1st and 2nd) and I’m only about 4 months ahead of you. I think post-birth showers should be a new tradition. Someone should hold your baby while you shower. Someone should dry your hair for you make you some tea, listen and hold space. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t need that after birth – however “idyllic.” Your kitties are precious and you in fact are an actual warrior. 💗
Thank you so much for your comment, for some reason I am only seeing it now but I so agree with you and your words mean so much. 💗
Thank you for sharing and opening up about such a beautiful, sensitive and life-changing experience. I could relate to many things. I am happy to know that you and baby are healthy, and hopefully with time you will be able to look back on your births with a new perspective. Take your time to heal!
Amazing Samantha! This absolutely resonated with me; you write so eloquently!
Thank you so much for opening up about this experience! I am so sorry the birth has been so traumatic for you, thank god that Kit is alright.
Although my birth experiences were different, I can totally connect to the chaos with having two relatively small children. My son was only 20 months old when my daughter was born. All the parents I spoke to about this small age difference said the first year would be hard and they were right. But now my son is 5 and my daughter 3 and seeing how close they are is so sweet. It will get easier, I promise! 💕
I so appreciate you sharing your experiences while at the same time I’m so sad that those were your experiences! I’m especially disheartened to hear your Doula was not supportive of you! I hope you’re finding healing and clarity through sharing and processing in whatever ways are right for you. 💗
Thank you for sharing! I had a traumatic birth experience as well. I went to 41 weeks w baby in the perfect position then after 7 hours of unmedicated back labor and non stop contractions I had a placental abruption and emergency c section. You never know what can happen. Women and especially mothers are incredibly strong. Peter and Kit are beautiful!! Congratulations on your precious growing family XO
Thank you so much for sharing and so eloquently putting into words how this feels. So much of this resonates with me and I am overwhelmed with empathy reading about your experiences. I’m also planning for a Vbac for baby 2 after a traumatic emergency C-section with my first. As my due date rapidly approaches it’s so helpful to face that it simply may not happen… and that’s okay.