When Mad Momma had invited bloggers to post the stories about the birth of their babies, I had first decided against recording my memories of my c-sections. I did not want to relive the memories all over again, but as I got down to reading the other stories, I thought why not. I took out my diary and started writing down as I remembered them- the first was sixteen years ago, and the second was 11 years ago. Midway I almost abandoned the project but finally I got down to writing out both the experiences and here they are- they are pretty long and they are ancient. I’m not sure if anyone would be really interested in reading the entire post.
My first son was ‘made to be born’ on August 21 1990. On the previous day, I was vaguely uncomfortable right from the morning, and so amma ( my mom) asked me to skip the routine oil massage. My date was still abt 10 days further and so we were not too concerned. However, the discomfort increased- I don’t remember if it was pain- it was just something unusual and different and so we went to the hospital. It was run by an uncle who was a peadiatrician and his wife- the aunt was my gynaec. She examined me and told me it was not yet time and bade me go home and come back after 10 days. On the way back home, as we waited at a traffic signal I remember thinking that I’d’ve to go back the same day.
In the evening, the discomfort increased and began to fall within the definition of ‘pain’. We went back to the hospital at abt 6.30 p.m or so. Aunty again examined me and asked me to get admitted. As the nurse was opening the door to my room, my waters broke. I was given a pencillin injection and the wait began. We had relatives abounding in the city we lived then and soon most of the elderly lady relatives began coming in. The hospital being a family concern- it was like home for them. The pain was getting worse by the minute and my face was contorting with every contraction. Achhan ( my father) kept asking me if it was getting unbearable and I managed to give him a smile.
By abt 9.00 p.m, I was taken to the labour room and all relatives except, amma, DH and a couple of aunts stayed back. I was inside the labour room working out the pains. A nurse was sitting by me and she was dozing. With each contraction, I was chanting The Lord’s name louder , and the nurse asked me if it helped. I answered in the affirmative. I remember thinking that the whole world was sleeping while I was doubling up in pain. I was given enema and the wait continued.
Meanwhile Dr. aunt came upto me and said she was going home but would be back the moment I needed her. Other doctors kept checking up on me. I had no sense of the time but it was well after midnight. At one point I heard the attending doctor calling up Dr. aunt and telling her that there was no progress in dilatation.
At about 3.30 a.m, aunt came upto me and told me: “your son seems to be a stubborn fellow and refuses to come out. We need to take him out.”
Though my first reaction was a vague disappointment, because I had thought I was almost there. I was feeling immense pressure and the pain had been quite unbearable for some time now, I had thought that both me and my baby were ready. I told her to do as she deemed best, and please to inform my achhan only after everything was over. I was afraid he would get too anxious. DH who had been waiting outside came in and told me not to worry. I assured him I was not worried. At that point I just wanted to get it over with.
I was lying on the operation table wearing a mere excuse of a green surgery gown . The lights were over me and I remembered the movies. The anaesthetist was summoned. Though all the staff were known to us and everyone was very attentive and kind, still the anaesthetist did mention that it was rude of me to have cut short his leisure. I remember feeling terribly guilty and I think I even said sorry to him. They fixed an oxygen mask over my nose, and I felt suffocated and kept trying to pull it off. Then I conked off.
(Later, I came to know that the baby had gone into distress, the head had never got fixed, and the cord had been wound around his neck twice. )
My son was born at about 4.09 a.m on 21 august 1990. He was 3.2 kgs. Aunt told me that my tummy was full of the baby. I shrunk like a pricked baloon after the delivery. My in-laws had also come down.
When I was taken to the recovery room later, the pain as I moved shocked me totally. I was totally unprepared for the pain, I couldn’t move, turn, sit or cough. Whenever I saw the nurses coming in to help me go to the loo, I started crying. They told me that they were surprised that I who had been so brave through out the labour pain was crying now.
I was asked to start walking at the earliest to ensure quick healing. The lower part of my abdomen was sheer agony, and I walked hunched over, holding my tummy. It felt as if the insides would fall off. Amma and my brother were worried about my posture remaining hunched for the rest of my life.
As I said before, this hospital being a family concern, well meaning relatives kept pouring in. Everybody wanted to help with opinions, advice and suggestions. After coming back home, too the situation was the same. One day, a bunch of old ladies from the family came to see me and the baby. They got so excited and started helping me with feeding the baby . One was holding the head of the baby, another was holding me- and they were all giving suggestions by the dozen. I don’t know how I held back from screaming that day. After they left, I just started howling hysterically and my amma and vallyamma (MIL) tried to soothe me. Though they could understand my predicament, all the years of experience had taught them to take such things in stride.
After the stitches healed, I went to my amma’s home in the village. Though the elderly attention was very similar to what it was back in the city, still I felt more at ease. However, I missed my DH terribly.
When the baby was getting too cranky and not sleeping to well in the nights- my grand mother decided that breast milk was not enough and he was started on solid food. I felt pretty bad about it, but I too was conditioned into the thinking of Elders know Best. Besides, those days even the medical fraternity advised to feed the baby only once in two hours.
My family is very strict about the training of the new mother. I had to learn to bathe the baby, toilet train him whenever he woke up. And my attitude back then was, amma and ammamma had to do everything other than feed the baby. Amma and me had show downs at my irresponsible attitude, I would end up crying and made my amma also miserable. Post partum blues were unheard of then and my amma and ammamma were made of more responsible stuff and they had reached this stage by just obeying their elders without protest. They did not understand my tantrums. I too thought I was being unreasonable. Even today, I don’t think they’ll believe a word about ‘post partum depression.’ Ammamma ( my grandmother) expressed her sympathies and disappointment that I had to have a c- section. However she consoled me that atleast I had gone through much of the labour pain and that too without a whimper. I did not mention to her that I nullified that by crying heartily after the c-section. She also informed me that I must’ve brought the cesarean upon myself because I was doing some of the new fangled exercises during my pregnancy. After 16 years, she still sometimes reminds me of my mischief. My grandmother had had one miscarriage and 5 home deliveries. She did not scream or bring the house down and was a most efficient mother, grandmother had attended the deliveries of her three daughters. She knew everything!
My second baby came after a gap of 5 years- September 29th 1995. I was a bit emotionally vulnerable during my pregnancy because of several reasons. I was living in a joint family and circumstances were a bit stressful. Besides, my husband was working in another city and could come home only every other weekend. Moreover, I was not too good at handling emotionally stressful situations back then .
I was very concerned about my elder son and I despaired that he was soon going to become the big boy. I wanted to cling to his babyhood. He would be safe with my in laws- that I was not too worried about but there were certain other issues at home which made me slightly uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I asked my gynaec ( aunt) about my chances at having a normal delivery and she explained to me that while she was prepared to wait a little bit, if the head had got fixed, and there was progressive dilatation. She added that she was not prepared to take a risk and wait for too long. She also mentioned that my ‘ischial spine’ was a bit longer than normal, and the baby’s head was a bit bigger wrt my structure. Again I was a bit disappointed, but I believed in Destiny and was willing to let go.
I went to the hospital because there was disharge and I got admitted. The contractions began soon after and there was slight dilatation too. I was examined and then taken to the OT. This time too, the head was not fixed. They attched a urinary catheter which was very uncomfortable. Apparently they do that in second time surgeries to prevent a urinary block.
When I was regaining consciousness , I had the strangest feeling. I understand that it is the effects of the chloroform. I felt like I wanted to let go- of what- I’m not sure- just everything. Like I was beyond all worldly care- not even my DH or my babies. I just wanted to melt into void and become nothing.
Soon, I woke up and I was shown the baby. He was 3 kgs. I had known it was a boy earlier itself and I was glad that I was prepared. I had wanted a girl very much but I had reminded myself to just pray for a healthy baby. Still, I realized that somewhere, I was hoping that the scanning results would prove faulty and the baby would be a girl. But I did not like to dwell on that and I deliberately stopped myself from letting my thoughts go there.
I asked to see my elder son and he seemed fine with everybody else at home. I think I was extra attentive to him and my amma pointed out that all this was natural in life and children would get used to it eventually. Amma and me even today have opposing ideas regarding this.
This time, the pain was much bearable, perhaps because of two reasons, one, I was mentally prepared for the pain unlike the first time. The first time, I had not even thought of a c-sec. Another reason being, I did not undergo the labour pain at all and so my energy levels had not depleted. Last time, they had waited as far as possible until the baby showed signs of distress.
Another change was that many of the elderly ladies did not turn up this time and we were pretty much on our own.
During my stay at the hospital, one night I woke up sweating and terrified. I was afraid to go back to sleep and thought I was going to die. I had palpitations and demanded to see Dr. aunt immediately. My DH and amma who were with me tried to pacify me . I could see that amma was really scared . After some time, I went to the loo, and emptied my stomach. Soon I was back to normal and went back to sleep. I had been given a laxative the previous night and the ensuing discomfort was perhaps due to that- I’m not too sure.
Both the times, I developed high fever as the milk came in. My tongue went thick and dry and I was shivering uncontrollably. This time, it was “Baby Friendly” mode at the hospitals and new mothers were asked to feed the baby on demand!
We ( both me and DH) belong to families of ayurvedic physicians and so after the intial course of antibiotics I was on ayurvedic medication. However, I was not able to have the oil massage because of the c-sec.
As for bonding with the babies, everything felt kind of surreal and I learnt to love my boys with time.
Some years later, when my co-sis was inconsolable because she had to have a c-section, I did my best to convince her that having a baby by c-sec did not in any way lessen her femininity, or her motherhood, nor did it change the way a mother loves her baby and the way a baby loves his mother.
My first son was ‘made to be born’ on August 21 1990. On the previous day, I was vaguely uncomfortable right from the morning, and so amma ( my mom) asked me to skip the routine oil massage. My date was still abt 10 days further and so we were not too concerned. However, the discomfort increased- I don’t remember if it was pain- it was just something unusual and different and so we went to the hospital. It was run by an uncle who was a peadiatrician and his wife- the aunt was my gynaec. She examined me and told me it was not yet time and bade me go home and come back after 10 days. On the way back home, as we waited at a traffic signal I remember thinking that I’d’ve to go back the same day.
In the evening, the discomfort increased and began to fall within the definition of ‘pain’. We went back to the hospital at abt 6.30 p.m or so. Aunty again examined me and asked me to get admitted. As the nurse was opening the door to my room, my waters broke. I was given a pencillin injection and the wait began. We had relatives abounding in the city we lived then and soon most of the elderly lady relatives began coming in. The hospital being a family concern- it was like home for them. The pain was getting worse by the minute and my face was contorting with every contraction. Achhan ( my father) kept asking me if it was getting unbearable and I managed to give him a smile.
By abt 9.00 p.m, I was taken to the labour room and all relatives except, amma, DH and a couple of aunts stayed back. I was inside the labour room working out the pains. A nurse was sitting by me and she was dozing. With each contraction, I was chanting The Lord’s name louder , and the nurse asked me if it helped. I answered in the affirmative. I remember thinking that the whole world was sleeping while I was doubling up in pain. I was given enema and the wait continued.
Meanwhile Dr. aunt came upto me and said she was going home but would be back the moment I needed her. Other doctors kept checking up on me. I had no sense of the time but it was well after midnight. At one point I heard the attending doctor calling up Dr. aunt and telling her that there was no progress in dilatation.
At about 3.30 a.m, aunt came upto me and told me: “your son seems to be a stubborn fellow and refuses to come out. We need to take him out.”
Though my first reaction was a vague disappointment, because I had thought I was almost there. I was feeling immense pressure and the pain had been quite unbearable for some time now, I had thought that both me and my baby were ready. I told her to do as she deemed best, and please to inform my achhan only after everything was over. I was afraid he would get too anxious. DH who had been waiting outside came in and told me not to worry. I assured him I was not worried. At that point I just wanted to get it over with.
I was lying on the operation table wearing a mere excuse of a green surgery gown . The lights were over me and I remembered the movies. The anaesthetist was summoned. Though all the staff were known to us and everyone was very attentive and kind, still the anaesthetist did mention that it was rude of me to have cut short his leisure. I remember feeling terribly guilty and I think I even said sorry to him. They fixed an oxygen mask over my nose, and I felt suffocated and kept trying to pull it off. Then I conked off.
(Later, I came to know that the baby had gone into distress, the head had never got fixed, and the cord had been wound around his neck twice. )
My son was born at about 4.09 a.m on 21 august 1990. He was 3.2 kgs. Aunt told me that my tummy was full of the baby. I shrunk like a pricked baloon after the delivery. My in-laws had also come down.
When I was taken to the recovery room later, the pain as I moved shocked me totally. I was totally unprepared for the pain, I couldn’t move, turn, sit or cough. Whenever I saw the nurses coming in to help me go to the loo, I started crying. They told me that they were surprised that I who had been so brave through out the labour pain was crying now.
I was asked to start walking at the earliest to ensure quick healing. The lower part of my abdomen was sheer agony, and I walked hunched over, holding my tummy. It felt as if the insides would fall off. Amma and my brother were worried about my posture remaining hunched for the rest of my life.
As I said before, this hospital being a family concern, well meaning relatives kept pouring in. Everybody wanted to help with opinions, advice and suggestions. After coming back home, too the situation was the same. One day, a bunch of old ladies from the family came to see me and the baby. They got so excited and started helping me with feeding the baby . One was holding the head of the baby, another was holding me- and they were all giving suggestions by the dozen. I don’t know how I held back from screaming that day. After they left, I just started howling hysterically and my amma and vallyamma (MIL) tried to soothe me. Though they could understand my predicament, all the years of experience had taught them to take such things in stride.
After the stitches healed, I went to my amma’s home in the village. Though the elderly attention was very similar to what it was back in the city, still I felt more at ease. However, I missed my DH terribly.
When the baby was getting too cranky and not sleeping to well in the nights- my grand mother decided that breast milk was not enough and he was started on solid food. I felt pretty bad about it, but I too was conditioned into the thinking of Elders know Best. Besides, those days even the medical fraternity advised to feed the baby only once in two hours.
My family is very strict about the training of the new mother. I had to learn to bathe the baby, toilet train him whenever he woke up. And my attitude back then was, amma and ammamma had to do everything other than feed the baby. Amma and me had show downs at my irresponsible attitude, I would end up crying and made my amma also miserable. Post partum blues were unheard of then and my amma and ammamma were made of more responsible stuff and they had reached this stage by just obeying their elders without protest. They did not understand my tantrums. I too thought I was being unreasonable. Even today, I don’t think they’ll believe a word about ‘post partum depression.’ Ammamma ( my grandmother) expressed her sympathies and disappointment that I had to have a c- section. However she consoled me that atleast I had gone through much of the labour pain and that too without a whimper. I did not mention to her that I nullified that by crying heartily after the c-section. She also informed me that I must’ve brought the cesarean upon myself because I was doing some of the new fangled exercises during my pregnancy. After 16 years, she still sometimes reminds me of my mischief. My grandmother had had one miscarriage and 5 home deliveries. She did not scream or bring the house down and was a most efficient mother, grandmother had attended the deliveries of her three daughters. She knew everything!
My second baby came after a gap of 5 years- September 29th 1995. I was a bit emotionally vulnerable during my pregnancy because of several reasons. I was living in a joint family and circumstances were a bit stressful. Besides, my husband was working in another city and could come home only every other weekend. Moreover, I was not too good at handling emotionally stressful situations back then .
I was very concerned about my elder son and I despaired that he was soon going to become the big boy. I wanted to cling to his babyhood. He would be safe with my in laws- that I was not too worried about but there were certain other issues at home which made me slightly uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I asked my gynaec ( aunt) about my chances at having a normal delivery and she explained to me that while she was prepared to wait a little bit, if the head had got fixed, and there was progressive dilatation. She added that she was not prepared to take a risk and wait for too long. She also mentioned that my ‘ischial spine’ was a bit longer than normal, and the baby’s head was a bit bigger wrt my structure. Again I was a bit disappointed, but I believed in Destiny and was willing to let go.
I went to the hospital because there was disharge and I got admitted. The contractions began soon after and there was slight dilatation too. I was examined and then taken to the OT. This time too, the head was not fixed. They attched a urinary catheter which was very uncomfortable. Apparently they do that in second time surgeries to prevent a urinary block.
When I was regaining consciousness , I had the strangest feeling. I understand that it is the effects of the chloroform. I felt like I wanted to let go- of what- I’m not sure- just everything. Like I was beyond all worldly care- not even my DH or my babies. I just wanted to melt into void and become nothing.
Soon, I woke up and I was shown the baby. He was 3 kgs. I had known it was a boy earlier itself and I was glad that I was prepared. I had wanted a girl very much but I had reminded myself to just pray for a healthy baby. Still, I realized that somewhere, I was hoping that the scanning results would prove faulty and the baby would be a girl. But I did not like to dwell on that and I deliberately stopped myself from letting my thoughts go there.
I asked to see my elder son and he seemed fine with everybody else at home. I think I was extra attentive to him and my amma pointed out that all this was natural in life and children would get used to it eventually. Amma and me even today have opposing ideas regarding this.
This time, the pain was much bearable, perhaps because of two reasons, one, I was mentally prepared for the pain unlike the first time. The first time, I had not even thought of a c-sec. Another reason being, I did not undergo the labour pain at all and so my energy levels had not depleted. Last time, they had waited as far as possible until the baby showed signs of distress.
Another change was that many of the elderly ladies did not turn up this time and we were pretty much on our own.
During my stay at the hospital, one night I woke up sweating and terrified. I was afraid to go back to sleep and thought I was going to die. I had palpitations and demanded to see Dr. aunt immediately. My DH and amma who were with me tried to pacify me . I could see that amma was really scared . After some time, I went to the loo, and emptied my stomach. Soon I was back to normal and went back to sleep. I had been given a laxative the previous night and the ensuing discomfort was perhaps due to that- I’m not too sure.
Both the times, I developed high fever as the milk came in. My tongue went thick and dry and I was shivering uncontrollably. This time, it was “Baby Friendly” mode at the hospitals and new mothers were asked to feed the baby on demand!
We ( both me and DH) belong to families of ayurvedic physicians and so after the intial course of antibiotics I was on ayurvedic medication. However, I was not able to have the oil massage because of the c-sec.
As for bonding with the babies, everything felt kind of surreal and I learnt to love my boys with time.
Some years later, when my co-sis was inconsolable because she had to have a c-section, I did my best to convince her that having a baby by c-sec did not in any way lessen her femininity, or her motherhood, nor did it change the way a mother loves her baby and the way a baby loves his mother.
