The Shame of a C-Section

The Shame of a C-SectionMoozles, my first-born, turns seven tomorrow. But rather than writing a post gushing about how much I love her (I obviously do), I thought I would share her birth story since April is C-Section Awareness Month. When I was pregnant with Moozles, rather than doing NCT classes, we paid handsomely for hypnobirthing classes. I had my mind, and heart, set on a natural birth. That’s right, no epidural, just breathing and panting like the cavewomen did.

But my body, and my baby, had other ideas. I remember, a few days after going on maternity leave, feeling my baby moving around like she was trying to turn around. But she just could not manage it. When I next saw the midwife, she told me that the baby was in position. But I told her that the baby was breech. I could feel her head pressed against my ribs. The midwife disagreed but I was insistent, so she referred me to the consultant midwife for a scan. When the consultant midwife performed the scan, she saw that my baby was indeed breech. I burst into tears. I knew my baby was breech. But I did not want it to be true. I did not want a caesarean section. I felt like my body had let myself down. That I had let my baby down. I felt such shame and sadness.

Sometimes, when a baby is breech, the consultant will try to move the baby around. But in my case, they did not think there would be enough room. I have a bicornuate uterus, which means that I have a little wall near the middle of my womb. This means that my babies have a little less room when they are close to term. This makes it harder for them to turn around, leading to being breech.

Two weeks later, Moozles was born by elective c-section on the 22nd April at St. Thomas’ Hospital in London (the first pic below is a bit bloody, be warned). No, I did not go into labour. But I still gave birth. And I became a mother that day. After I recovered from my c-section, I started going to baby groups and meeting other new mums. And the shame returned when I told other mums that I had had a c-section. I did not read blogs back then. I didn’t have any irreverent mummy blogs who I could turn to, who could tell me that c-sections did not make me less of a mother. It took some time before I grew to accept my situation.

There is no longer any sadness or shame. Time has that effect. I can look back and just be grateful that my daughter had a stress-free arrival into the world.

The Shame of a C-Section The Shame of a C-Section The Shame of a C-Section The Shame of a C-Section

Happy birthday to my sweet little girl. xx

 

Yes, I have endometriosis

I’ve known that I have Endometriosis since my mid-twenties, despite not having a professional diagnosis. I had horrendous menstrual pain and heavy bleeding as a teenager. My doctor prescribed me birth control pills when I was 18 after I passed out in a department store bathroom during one particularly bad episode. Until then, I think my parents assumed I was exaggerating the pain to get out of school. 

After years of struggling with pain, I was told I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. A perusal of the internet made me believe that I had Endometriosis instead. Years later another GP told me that my symptoms were more in line with Endometriosis. But she added that laparoscopies did little to help and that having a baby would ‘cure’ the Endo. I went to a new GP, but they wanted to treat my symptoms rather than referring me to a gynaecologist.

I know I am lucky that I did not struggle with getting pregnant. But two babies later, I definitely wasn’t cured of the Endo. I still had the pain and heavy bleeding. And I refused birth control pills as they gave me horrible mood swings. We moved in February of this year and when I saw the GP at our new practice in May, I was immediately referred for a scan and appointment with the gynae. I had a laparoscopy/hysteroscopy yesterday.

They saw the endometrial scarring and burned it off. They also said inserting a Mirena Coil would help. Because I have a septum in my uterus (like a little wall dividing my  uterus in two), they ended up putting two coils in. This still seems crazy to me, but I’m hoping it helps. Only time will tell. It’s just nice to finally have a diagnosis and to feel that I’m on the road to wellness.