It had to be said. If you have a baby cut out of you, it is not birth! It is a delivery, sure, and you hopefully get a healthy baby at the end, but it is not a birth!
You do not give birth when you have a c-section, and until you have a child vaginally, you cannot say you have given birth!
You ladies absolutely crack me up. If you are proud of your c-section and believe it is a birth, then why defend yourself so much? Why make yourself look like rubbish by swearing and acting trashy. My post might be 'offensive' the soft-skinned folk on here, but nowhere do I say 'you are not a mother'. I said you have not given birth.
You haven't. Your child has a birth, because it is removed from the womb, but you have not given birth. If you choose to get riled up over such trivial nonsense, then do not blame me when your precious sensibilities get hurts. Being pregnant for 9 months has absolutely no bearing on the way your child is delivered, so for the women saying 'I carried this baby for 9 months!' what does that actually add to the argument? Nothing, pregnancy is not labor nor is it delivery, it's the cooking inbetween.
As for the women who are blatently attacking vaginal birth mothers, bravo, you are now as bad, if not worse, than me now. In both cases of c-sections and vaginal births, the pelvic floor can become weakened. This is why kegals are so important. I have had bother a c-section and a VBAC and I can say with honesty, my vaginal walls were 'wider' after my c-section than after my vaginal. I'm now tighter than I was pre-pregnancy with my first.
So yes, just a little edit/update, whatever you wish to refer to it as, to show that unless you have posted a valid argument, or something that does not involve childish name calling and severe cussing (what the heck are you teaching your children?), then I'm not paying attention to your opinion.
Due to my typos it is obvious people did not pick up on the part where I said I have had both a delivery and a birth. Perhaps I will share a little.
I went into spontaneous labor at 34 weeks with my first. As was protocol, the doctors injected me with steroids to help mature her lungs. They also gave me something else, what it was I'm not sure, that was supposed to delay labor,and they put me on bed rest. It delayed it one week. At 35wk 2days the contractions started again but they were so painful. I've had pain in the passed, but this beat it 100 fold. My husband immediately took me to the hospital, I couldn't really speak for myself. My waters broke in the car on the way to the hospital, which was about 7 miles because we live on a farm. My first thought was how were we going to get through this? I'd heard hundreds of stories of mothers going into preterm labor and losing their babies.
By the time we reached the hospital, I felt very ill. I'd already vomited the last of my dinner up in the car, and the rest was just dry reaching. A lot of the drive was a blur of pain, vomit and screaming; mine. We finally reached the hospital, DH got me out of the car and made me lean against it whilst he got a wheel chair. He didn't have a wheel chair with him, but my OB/GYN and four other nurses/doctors were rushing towards me with a hospital bed. I recall being terrified of that bed, terrified of the paniced look on husbands face.
They got me onto the bed and raced my inside, into a surgery prep room. My worst nightmare was a c-section but it seemed it was coming true. I was forcibly pushed into a sitting position and felt something cold in my back. It didn't hurt, everything else did though. The pain eased fairly quickly after the shot in my back (which I realise now would have been saline and an epidural). I was a lot calmer by this point, but still terrified of what was coming. My doctor tried to explain to me something about risks and what to expect, but I'd already zoned out. I was too intent on watching my stomach spasm. A different surgeon (not my doctor) came in, in scrubs and such, and put a blue sheet thing over my stomach. Then he cut me. I saw a small line of blood come from the cut, and just stared because I could not feel it and was morbidly facinated. I think I fainted then. I came too with my husband shaking me slightly, and a man yelling. The amn had a baby in his arms, and it was blue. My mind didn't connect that baby to being mine. They did things to the baby, it's hard to remember exactly what, but eventually I heard a gurgling cry and felt my heart 'reach' out to it. It finally clicked in that this was my baby. She was taken to NICU and I was taken to recovery. I fell asleep after that.
When I woke up next my husband was with me, I asked him why our baby had been blue, and he told me that she'd had the cord wrapped around her neck twice and her leg once, and had had all her circulation cut off. But they'd saved her, and she was still in NICU. Apparently I'd been out for a day. I got to see her the day after, a beautiful little girl. She had really dark hair like daddy but my fair complexion. She was so beautiful. She'd been a fairly big baby for a preterm, weighing 6lb 3oz, and I was glad to know they'd used donor breastmilk instead of formula for her, as my milk hadn't come in.
We got to try breastfeeding the next day. It was amazing, and she caught on quick. When I would have been 36 weeks, 4 days they let us take her home, as long as we bought her in every week. She thrived wonderfully, and is still an amazing little girl for all she has overcome.
Having said that, I felt no connection and still do not, to the scar on my stomach and the little girl that tramps mud into my house. To me, it was not a birth. I did not get to experience birth until last year, when I tried for a VBAC. My son arrived at 38wks 2 days weighing a wopping 9lb 6oz. Surprisingly, it was an 'easy' birth, 4 hours all up, which was a blessing. With him, I felt connected the moment I saw him. It was different for me. I felt as if I'd accomplished something great.
So that's my story. My daughter is 6 now, my son turns 1 on June 4th.
I saw a psychologist yesterday. Not saying who, but one of the ladies gave me some food for thought, so I went and spoke to her. I had a hard time. A lot of things came forward that I wanted to bury deep inside me, but they were only dirt deep. I haven't cried that much in years and years. I got a diagnosis almost immediately, which surprised me, but she said it was so obvious. She said she believed at one stage I had PPD, but that it had mutated into post traumatic stress disorder. She says I have PTSD and depression. She's put me on medication. I hate medication, but if it helps my family, fine. Also I never said I didn't connect to my daughter, I said I could not connect to the birth to her; in other words I did not, subconsciously, make a connection between my scar and my baby, as in I couldn't believe she'd come from there. Hope that clears it up a little. She has put me on paroxetine, apparently it will help, we will see. I'm going to start taking them tomorrow.
I understand many of you think I'm screwed in the head or whatever, but I can now admit I have a problem; thanks to the person who I'm not naming. As for my son and daughter, they know that I love them. Daddy had a talk with them about where I had to go, my daughter understood fairly well; my son, well he is only nearly 1 so yeah... I got big hugs last night from everyone. I'm glad my family is coming together through the hard times; because I have no doubt things will be hard. But, I hope it's for the best.