Obviously, you are here because as a mother you have failed. Or maybe you haven’t failed yet and are getting ready to fail in the next couple of weeks. How exciting?!
Yes, I know this is unfortunate. I’m sure you have researched every single safety device, become infant CPR certified and babyproofed everything in the house to the point that it takes less time to call in and wait for pizza to be delivered than it does to open a cabinet and microwave yourself a Cup O’ Noodles. Not that you would ever do that, because it has more sodium in it than the Dead Sea. Besides, you have already tripled your grocery bill by only buying grass-fed, organically raised everything and dumped out all processed food in your home just in case all the toxins from that can of spaghettios contaminates your quinoa and rolled oats breakfast bars sweetened with ground up honey bee eggs and sunshine. I’ll bet you have also cut out caffeine, chocolate, dairy, sugar and anything else that might cause your tiny womb tenant to have ADHD, GERD, ACDC, or OOTD.
Yes, you set up a fantastic nursery. You read all the right parenting books, blogs and websites. You even have your future child’s projected sleep schedule printed out on index cards to hand out to relatives, babysitters and people in the grocery store checkout line, but lets be honest – none of that matters because if you have a baby through an incision you will feel like less of a woman. You will BE less of a women.
You will take up extreme weightlifting, become a fan of NASCAR, automatically know every team to win an NBA title and grow an involuntary beard. Passers-by will even be able to identify your child as one of the 1 in 3 children now born by C-Section. Not just because you have a giant number three on your Toyota Sienna and a Duck Dynasty style lady beard, but because of their “unnatural” glow.
Ultimately, your child will regard you as an absolute failure and begin over-achieving to try and distance themselves from the family stigma. Your significant other will have to join a support group called Disappointed Spouses of C-Section Deliveries or DSCSD* that meets every Thursday in a back room of a local bowling alley.
That’s all bullshit and it doesn’t matter if the first time holding your baby is after 16 hours of labor, a 25 minute surgery or stepping off a plane. The very second you take YOUR baby into your arms, smell them, touch them, and look into their eyes – you will be completely and irrevocably bound to them with every fiber of your being.
So mommies, quit competeing with each other over “birth stories”. Let’s not judge one another based on how our little ones got here. Birth stories are messy enough–both emotionally and physically.
We don’t have to be.
*This may or may not be a listing for one of the Discovery Channels. If so, please don’t sue me. I am sure it is full of quality programming like investigative crime shows aimed at women in their late 30’s through early 50’s who are shopping for their husband’s life insurance policies for “no reason in particular”.