My body wasn't "made for this": birth trauma and the joy of being a new mom can coexist

Trigger warning: emergency C-section, birth and pregnancy complications/trauma

I was told my body knew what it was doing, and that it would come naturally. Everything about my son's birth was traumatizing. He was born healthy, and I'm overjoyed about that. BUT, that doesn't diminish what I went through. Birth trauma and joy over being a new mom can coexist. That's what I'm sharing today, almost 11 months after my son's birth.

My son was born at 36 weeks, via general anesthesia emergency C-section, without his father there to witness it. I went through 27 hours of excruciating labour. A failed epidural. I stopped dilating at 3 cm. I had a uterine tear that I'm still healing from and will be healing from for awhile. And a long list of pregnancy and postpartum complications that had me going to emerg via ambulance 4 days postpartum, and struggling through postpartum.

I did everything I could to do things "right" when I was pregnant-which, side note- was a horrible process for me that involved Gestational Diabetes, anemia that required infusions, carpal tunnel syndrome, constant infections, etc. Despite working so hard to do things "right", things still happened the way they did, because they did. I'm sharing this because women are told "at least you had a healthy baby" or "at least you're okay now", and everyone moves on. That doesn't help healing the woman left in the aftermath of birth trauma. Talking about it does.

I didn't feel like a "tank", or like I took things "like a champ" when I was in labour. Being a nurse didn't matter in those moments: I was just a scared human. A terrified and vulnerable person.

My water broke one hour after I lost my mucus plug, and 5 minute apart contractions started the minute my water broke. I had no time to ease into labour. "Breathing" went out the window so fast. I begged for the epidural. Begged.

And that's okay.

My cervix didn't dilate past 3cm, even after being induced. The epidural didn't work at all. I was clawing at the bed, blurred vision, when the doctor finally told me I needed a C-section. The baby's head was tilted back in a bad way, and my cervix still was at 3 cm. My contractions were so close together they seemed constant. I had been screaming for a long time, not caring who heard me. My left side specifically was throbbing (which I learned afterwards was because of the tear in my uterus). I asked my mom to get my dad to pray with me, I was so scared of what was going to happen to my baby and I.

I got put under general anesthesia, while my neck was spasming from the failed epidural, my body shaking uncontrollably. My arms were strapped to the freezing operating room table. I was terrified something would happen to my baby, my miracle that I thought I'd never have, due to my endometriosis diagnosis. All that came out to the anesthesiologist though was "my neck, my neck, my neck". "We have to put her out", I heard them say, so delirious I almost felt like it wasn't me they were talking about. My mom wasn't allowed in the operating room with me because I had to be put out. My mom and best friend, Jamie, were with me throughout this process, and my rocks. I'll always, always remember their presence with me in my scariest moment.

I did wake up, but I wasn't the first to hold my child. "Where's my baby?" The first three words out of my mouth. "Don't worry, we're bringing him here hun", the nurse replied.

I didn't get a hug from my husband. I got a video call from a terrified and relieved husband who had to get updates through my parents via Whatsapp and meet his son for the first time via video. (Side note: don't ever believe the lie that it's easy for immigrants to get into Canada).

My son had a lip tie, and breastfeeding was brutal. The pressure on new moms to breastfeed is brutal. It does not come naturally always: it didn't for me. To be honest, the first few months were a blur and I floated around like a ghost. Postpartum anxiety was and is hard.

Long story short, it took awhile to feel like I could breathe. I still have flashbacks of the labour process and recovery that make me cry. I will be healing from it for awhile. I found strength in others' stories. I still am finding strength.

I remember being asked 2 weeks postpartum if I'd have another child. I wanted to cry at that moment because my body felt broken and my mind was hurting. I was getting through the day FOR my son at that point, and I couldn't communicate the pain that question caused. Don't ask a new mom that question...let her just be a new mom.

Due to the traumatic way my son was born, he met milestones later than "expected". At my son's 6 month appointment, my nurse practitioner asked if my son was rolling yet. I said, "no, but he's sitting up so well!". Her answer was "well, he should be rolling! Work on that!" Side note: health care practitioners, please take the time to consider the impact of your words. Your patients are PEOPLE.

I remember blaming myself: what if my body was able to have him vaginally? Did I fail him? What am I doing wrong? I did nothing wrong.

I did nothing wrong.

My son and I are still doing cranial sacral therapy to help our recovery, and chiropractic care, and massage. They have made a big difference. I will be doing counseling.

I love being a mom. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's a love like no other. AND my son's birth was the most traumatizing thing I've physically gone through. My body wasn't "made for" it, and that's okay. I am grateful every day that modern medicine saved my son and I. Having a c-section SAVED my son and I. What I, and many women have gone through in having a traumatic labour/birth story, wasn't okay.

Joy and pain can coexist, without diminishing the other.

I'm almost 11 months postpartum and still healing. Still processing. I'm still working through the moments of fear and broken expectations that brought me my greatest joy, my little boy.

If you've gone through a traumatic labour and birth, you are NOT alone. Your experience and pain from it are VALID and I hope in sharing my story, someone feels less alone. I'm intentionally sharing it while in the healing journey because it's not something I've "overcome". Why do we wait to share stories when they've ended? I'd like to give voice to my pain, not muzzle it anymore.