The birth experience matters too.
“All that matters is a healthy mum and a healthy baby.”
How many times did I hear that after giving birth? How many times did it drive me deeper into confusion and self-doubt over my son’s reception into this world? If all that mattered was a healthy mum and a healthy baby, then why was I so heart-broken?
The birth of my first child left a marked and profound impact on me. All throughout my pregnancy, I had dreamt about and planned for his arrival. It would be hard, it would be painful, but it would be beautiful and graceful. And I would rejoice. But it wasn’t and I didn’t.
We need to induce you ASAP or your baby is going to be born sick. Ok…if you say so.
We need to crank up the pitocin, or you’re going to have a c-section. Ok…if you say so.
I’m glad you did what we said, because we almost had to cut him out. Ok…if you say so.
I did what they said and I regretted it. I didn’t give birth — birth had been done to me.
For months I mourned his birthday. What was supposed to be one of the most extraordinary days in my life was a day that I couldn’t stop reliving, but only wanted to forget.
I felt ashamed of how I’d let things happen and remorseful that I didn’t give my son a more welcoming entrance into society. Would I ever even desire another child? Would I ever willingly repeat the trauma of labor and delivery? I was stuck between a place of swearing I’d never give birth again, and wanting an encore just so I could have a shot at doing it “right”….of fixing what I believed I had failed at the first time.
Baby blues quickly spiraled into full blown postpartum depression. What was wrong with me? I loved my son almost more than my heart could handle and I was so grateful for the gift of being his mum. And I was healthy and had a flourishing little boy. Everyone kept telling me that’s all that matters…so shouldn’t I just be happy?
Then I had another baby and I finally understood. They were wrong — a healthy mum and healthy baby are not all that matters.
Birth matters. How you give birth matters.
The second time around I had a doula who comforted and supported me. Who repeatedly reminded me that birth could be beautiful. Who believed I was designed for this. I had a midwife who encouraged me and trusted my body. Who never once debased or belittled me. Who respected me.