My C-Section Story and The Importance of Informed Consent
Content Warning: traumatic cesarean birth
When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I was 19 years old. I had just graduated from high school months before, and I was in a toxic relationship although I did not realize it yet. I did not have the support that I believed that I did. I had a lot of fears and anxieties, but I was mainly excited for the journey and to become a mother. I went to parenting classes and did a lot of online research about preparing to take care of a child. I felt pretty confident that I knew what I was doing, but I still had so much to learn. Specifically, I needed to educate myself about the childbirth process. My fear led me to avoid the topic entirely, choosing to not deal with the reality that I would be giving birth until I was actually doing it. I didn’t even think about the possibility that I had options, or that I could advocate for myself. I put 100% of my trust into my OB/GYN because she was a doctor. I didn’t even research my doctor at all before scheduling an appointment. I called her because I was overwhelmed, and my child’s grandmother had told me that that was the doctor she went to. Months after my birth, I would begin to process how traumatic the whole thing was, and it kick-started a whole new passion: educating women about their rights during childbearing.
Let's rewind a little. The first time I met my OB, she seemed very cold, but I didn’t think much of it because I was in a clinical environment. However, throughout the pregnancy this dynamic developed that made me extremely uncomfortable. She let it be known that she was superior to me with all of her knowledge and expertise, and that she didn’t think very highly of me. I felt a deep insecurity about my age that I normally didn’t feel, like she had a great distaste for me being pregnant so young. The biggest problem was that she didn’t really explain anything to me. It was very matter-of-fact, I am the doctor and this is how I do things. So when I was 37 weeks pregnant and my OB told me she was scheduling an induction for the following week so that she could attend my birth before her upcoming vacation, I didn’t think to question her. I just thought “well, she can’t change her vacation, and I don’t want to give birth without a doctor!” I never realized how absurd it was to schedule my birth when it wasn’t a medical necessity, and my child was just fine continuing to grow in the womb until they were ready. My young age and naivety about birth and healthcare made it very easy for the process to be controlled. I didn’t ask the right questions, so the information wasn’t willingly given to me, and it must not have seemed important. I “agreed” to the induction, not really understanding that it was optional, and before I knew it I was lying in a hospital bed with Cervadil in.
My first experience with induction was uneventful. The following day, I didn’t progress all day long. I wasn’t even dilating. I was told that I was being sent home, until my OB came in and did a cervical check. She then said that since I was dilated to a finger tip, she could break my water and I could have a baby that day. Although I didn’t fully understand the induction process or the risks, I had been told that once the membranes were ruptured the baby had to come, and if they didn’t it would result in an emergency cesarean. A c-section was one of my biggest fears about birth, so I panicked. I told her that I didn’t want her to break my water, and that I wanted to go home, so I did. I almost realized that I had my own bodily autonomy and I didn’t have to consent to induction. However, when she called to schedule another induction for the following week, I saw this as standard procedure and again didn’t question it.
The most painful part about my birth experience is the fact that there isn’t much that I can remember. I am very good at dissociating myself from painful experiences, and I did exactly that. I felt no physical pain at all while laboring. Some might think that because of this I had a good experience. I don’t feel like I had much of an experience at all. It was just a blur of needles, faceless care providers, and cervical checks. One check was done in front of a few people, and it was done so carelessly that I was in pain and I started to bleed. And then, suddenly, I was told that I needed an emergency c-section. They had me at the maximum level of pitocin that they could administer without getting an order, and my labor was stalling. The pitocin was shut off and administered again until my unborn daughter was in distress. Her heart rate was dangerously low and she had passed a bowel movement. There was no time to think, I was just wheeled back without anyone even waiting for my child’s father to get dressed so that he could stay by my side as they took me back to the OR. I remember staring at the bright overhead lights the whole way to the OR, forcing myself to stay quiet and calm as the tears rolled down my face. One of my worst fears was happening, and I had no idea what was happening to me or my child.
A spinal block was administered after I told a surgeon that I could still feel a hand on my stomach. Once I went numb, I felt a brief moment of comfort, and my child’s father entered the OR. They immediately began the surgery. I felt the pressure of pulling and tugging, but no pain. What felt like within minutes, a baby was pulled out and lifted up over a sheet for a brief few seconds. Then, she was taken across the room while I struggled to hold my head up to look for her. Was she mine? That's what birth is? I didn’t even get to hold her for what felt like hours. By the time I got to hold her, other people were ready to pass her around. I felt confused and depressed, and I wasn’t confident in my new motherhood. A lactation consultant popped her head in later that night to see that I was feeding and told me everything looked great. I never saw her again. I struggled with latching and didn’t feel like she was getting enough. My insecurities about breastfeeding were even further cemented when my OB walked into the room while I was breastfeeding. She told me that I could not stay shirtless, and if I did, the milk would dry up in the breast that my daughter wasn’t actively feeding on. She did make sure to congratulate me on “finally coming to my senses about dairy,” failing to realize that I was drinking a glass of soy milk. By the time my hospital stay was over, I felt defeated and ashamed. I went home uninformed, insecure, and traumatized. I struggled to breastfeed and made the switch to formula weeks later.
After the birth, I struggled with postpartum depression. It took me a while to realize that my experience played a role in my difficult transition to motherhood. It was through childbirth education that I learned all of the exact moments in time that my rights were violated. Through this experience I learned a lot about myself and what is important to me. I’ve grown as a mother, and I’ve found what I feel like is my calling. I got the coolest daughter in the world out of it, cesarean or not, and for that I am grateful. However, mothers should not have to experience trauma during such an intimate period in their lives. If I can accomplish anything while I’m here on this Earth, I want to help women feel empowered in their ability to make informed choices and advocate for themselves and their children. You can read here about how I ventured into the world of birth work, and how you can too!
