About ten years ago now, I was training to be a birth doula. This entailed a lot of reading and training, as well as awareness of the realm of various attitudes and opinions about birth. At that time, I remember hearing women use the term “unnecesarean”. This turn of phrase was used to describe c-sections that took place under the illusion of being medically necessary, but were later revealed to be unnecessary and even superfluous. 

In some ways, this resonated with me, especially when I started learning more about natural breech birth (my two c-sections happened because my babies were breech). There was a part of me that felt like if I had just tried a little harder, researched a little more, or found a different birth team, those c-sections might not have happened. Maybe they were just unnecessary, after all. 

As a matter of fact, I am writing this post on the eve of the birthday of my two other breech babies, born in 2016 and 2021. Crazily enough, they share a birthday. Both of them were born at home with the assistance of amazing midwives skilled in breech delivery. It turns out it is physically possible to have a breech baby naturally. 

One might say (and indeed, people have said to me), “Well, having two breech births at home proves those two c-sections were unnecessary! You could have just had them naturally!” Once upon a time, I might have agreed, but now I feel differently. My daughters needed to be born the way they were. Even if it was medically and physically possible for them to have been born naturally, those c-sections needed to happen. 

It was only when I stopped viewing my c-sections as unnecessary, unwanted operations and started to seek out the life-giving lessons they taught me that I was able to truly heal, emotionally speaking. I needed to see what those birth experiences had given me, instead of fixating on what they had taken away. 

I realized when I wrote my son’s birth story on the blog last fall that I’ve never written the stories of my first two babies’ births – which is silly, because none of the others make any sense without those first two c-sections. And so here I am, finally writing the stories of their births, 17 and 14 years ago.

My First C-Section

Finding out I was pregnant with our first baby was an absolute joy. I wasted no time in reading up on what to expect during the next nine months. To my delight, every month passed with no worries or complications, beyond some mild morning sickness and other typical discomforts. My husband and I were attracted to the idea of a natural birth, so we met with a local midwife to discuss delivery at the birth center that was walking distance from our apartment. 

Since we were in Belgium at the time and our insurance covered all types of birth care, we also met with the OB at a local university hospital.  It was there, at my 38-week appointment, that we discovered our baby was still in a breech position, which had been consistent for the last four months. We scheduled an ECV (external cephalic version) to attempt to turn the baby for a  week later. The procedure was painful and unsuccessful, as our baby was firmly locked into a foot-first position and refused to budge. We were told we would need to schedule a c-section if the baby did not turn in the next few days, since it was too dangerous to deliver breech babies vaginally. 

That night, we walked to the city square for a reggae concert. I remember talking about how disappointed I was that we would have to have a c-section. Just the week before we had been at the hospital for a tour, and when the tour guide had asked if anyone wanted to see the operating room I said to Peter, “We won’t be needing to go there.” I felt emotionally and physically exhausted. Peter reassured me that everything would happen the way it was supposed to happen, and tried to help me be at peace with this new development. Who knows, maybe the baby would turn in labor!  

The next morning, I woke up early with a strange crampy feeling that was reminiscent of really bad menstrual cramps. We were living in a studio apartment with a shared bathroom, and I had never been brave enough to use the bath before in our whole year of residence, but I had an irresistible urge to sit in warm water. So upstairs I went and started the bath. I settled in and it felt glorious…for about two  minutes. Then another tenant knocked at the door, and I knew my time was up. 

I awkwardly got out of the tub and tried to manage the contractions. The knocking continued and I rushed to free up the bathroom, but it wasn’t easy. Finally I made it downstairs to tell Peter something strange was happening. No idea what, maybe a false alarm. We figured we had to walk to the hospital to schedule that c-section anyways (we didn’t have a car), so we started the 2-mile trek.

About a mile in, things got serious and I could no longer walk. We didn’t own cell phones either at the time, so we stopped at a gas station. Peter asked to use the phone to call a taxi, and I stole away to the bathroom, where my water started to break. I had no idea what was happening at the time because it was a slow leak, which I hadn’t read about before. I started to feel a little faint after that and the contractions were closer together, so Peter bought me some M&Ms as we waited for the taxi.

The taxi arrived, and the very chatty driver drove us the long mile to the hospital, which felt like an eternity even though it probably took five minutes. The whole time I was still in denial that what was happening was labor. It wasn’t until we pulled up to the hospital and my water really broke all over the front seat of the taxi that I started to become somewhat convinced this was the real deal. 

What happened after that was a blur…walking to the maternity ward, getting checked in rapidly, and even more rapidly being examined by the nurse, who seemed very alarmed upon checking my progress and started calling to the doctor in Flemish. The nurses told us the birth would need to happen quickly, and it would need to be a c-section because the baby was still breech and was coming fast. Within 20 minutes of that examination, our little girl was born via c-section. 

Anyone who has had birth not go according to plan can understand the mixed emotions that take place in the aftermath. Was I happy to have a healthy baby? Of course! I was absolutely enamored with our little girl. I felt intense gratitude and joy, and that carried me through the challenging recovery. But her birth happened so quickly, and I was in such denial leading up to it, that it was hard to process it all. The recovery was hard, and breastfeeding was even harder. I resolved that next time, I would avoid having a repeat c-section and attempt to have the natural birth we had hoped for. 

History Repeats Itself (3 Times!)

Two and a half years later, I was preparing for the birth of our second child. I was determined to do everything in my power to have a VBAC, or vaginal birth after cesarean. My husband and I attended Bradley Method classes to learn the secret techniques you need to have a natural birth. I even went to a chiropractor to try to encourage the baby to assume the correct position. 

Once again, the pregnancy was easy, and everything was going smoothly. But despite all the research and work to obtain optimal positioning, this baby had remained in the breech position for the entire pregnancy, just like big sister. 

I found an OB who was willing to attempt a VBAC, which was uncommon back then, but only if the baby turned to the head down position. At my 38-week appointment, he told me he would need to schedule a c-section for that week, since the baby’s position had not changed. I practically begged him to let me have two more weeks and make it to the 40-week mark, just to make sure the baby wouldn’t turn at the last minute. He reticently agreed, and I started working even harder to convince the baby to turn. And yet every day, I could feel the baby engaging more and more in her cozy little breechy spot. 

The day before my due date, my mother-in-law arrived to take care of our oldest. I think her presence helped me finally relax, because that night I went into labor! I wanted to wait as long as possible to give the baby the most time possible to flip, but I also didn’t want to have a breech baby unassisted at home or in the car.

We went into the hospital around 3 AM, and it was jam-packed. The doctor gave me medicine to slow down my contractions, which sort of worked. We had to wait for hours because the OR was so busy, and it was an agonizing wait. Finally, our beautiful girl was born shortly after 7 AM via repeat c-section due to breech.

Once again, the flood of emotions returned: The joy of meeting our little girl and the sadness that the VBAC we had hoped for didn’t happen. What’s more, about an hour after she was born, my incision split open in the recovery room and caused me to lose a lot of blood. Thankfully, my OB was able to get the blood loss under control, but the incision kept coming open. The road to healing was long, and I was on bedrest for two months, which was extremely challenging.  

So again, we prayed that next time we would be able to experience a VBA2C. This time, we did, and then we went on to have four more babies naturally – including two more breech babies. For some reason our little ones seem to like that position!

Birth Is a Teacher

“…everything is necessary. Every least thing. This is the hard lesson. Nothing can be dispensed with. Nothing despised. Because the seams are hid from us, you see. The joinery. The way in which the world is made. We have no way to know what could be taken away. What omitted. We have no way to tell what might stand and what might fall.”

I know I’ve used that quotation before, so I apologize for the repeat, but it so perfectly sums up what I’m trying to say here. Birth – in all its forms – is a teacher, and this is its lesson.

My c-sections had to happen that way, because there were some things I needed to learn. I needed to learn that birth is not about being empowered. It’s not about how strong you are or how much you know about birth. It’s not even really about you at all. 

Birth at its core is about surrender. You can take all the childbirth education classes, do all the optimal positioning exercises (trust me, I know), and buy all the best labor snacks. But if you cannot surrender your ideas, presuppositions, and even your body to the emergence of birth, none of it matters. 

That’s not to say you shouldn’t prepare, or that those things aren’t helpful. And there is certainly a time and place to stand your ground when your wishes and hopes are being challenged. But in the end, it’s most important to prepare to be humbled. 

If you don’t realize this and truly accept it, you’ll be crushed when your plans don’t work out. And then, after you’ve dreamed of having a home birth for nine months and you end up in the hospital recovering from a c-section, you’ll be tempted to see yourself as yet another victim of the “unnecesarean”. 

You’ll blame yourself. Maybe you didn’t assert yourself enough. Maybe you should have labored at home longer. Maybe you should have stuck to your guns and not gotten the epidural like you said you would.  Maybe you should have found a midwife who would deliver a breech baby vaginally.

You’ll blame other people. Your husband should have insisted you didn’t want an epidural. Your OB should have been there and not gone on vacation. Your midwife shouldn’t have told you to go to the hospital when you did. Your baby should have turned the right way.

You’ll get lost in all the “what ifs” and the blame games, and you won’t be able to see the lessons that are hidden in your experience of birth – lessons you need to learn in order to grow.

Find the Lessons

If you’re reading this and have had a similar c-section experience, my hope for you is that you can look back at your c-sections with gratitude and say, “I’m glad it happened that way.”

I hope you can see yourself as a student of your birth and a guardian of your baby and body, rather than an unwitting victim of the medical establishment.

I hope you can uncover the treasures hidden in that moment your child was born and make them a proud centerpiece of your motherhood. That any regret fades away as you see the experience as an intrinsic part of you. And someday, I hope you can recall your child’s birthday each year with joy, and tell their story with gratitude.