An Empowered C-section After Birth Trauma by Stephanie O’Brien

When I birthed my first son into the world four years ago in 2018, I did so feeling powerless. 

When my waters broke on a Thursday morning while I was on the toilet (great timing!) I assumed he would be born later that day. I was wrong. His birth is a long story that started that morning and ended at 3.33am on Sunday morning, born via a traumatic, emergency c-section.

During those four long days I was hospitalised, induced, monitored, in active labour for seven hours before asking for an epidural, hours later I finally got to 10 centimetres dilated, pushed for two hours, and then wheeled to theatre when baby’s heart rate dropped.

I could feel the pain of being cut open on the operating table. Something wasn’t right. I yelled out ‘I can feel that’ and the anaesthetist told me he would “just put me under” if the pain continued. I begged him not to, terrified of being asleep when my baby was born. So I laid there enduring the pain in silence.

In the minutes after Sonny entered the world I was completely exhausted and delirious. In and out of consciousness. He wasn’t placed on my chest immediately, as he needed some help from the midwives to take his first breath.

I remember coming back into consciousness and seeing a midwife violently slamming his head against my breast. I had no idea what was happening. Needless to say, our first few hours together were a blur, and an experience that created an immense amount of sadness and trauma in the months and years that followed.

But this story isn’t about my first birth. It’s about my second, in August of 2022.

I had four years to think about how I wanted to birth my second baby. My experience with my first led me on a wild journey where I found my calling and became a postpartum doula. I delved deep into the birth world, became almost obsessive about westernised birth and postpartum care, and how it’s letting so many women and birthing people down. I did my training and started my business in 2020. I was now part of the change to help other women learn about birth and the impacts birth can have on postpartum (depression, anxiety, loneliness, overwhelm, physical trauma etc) and it was never far from my mind how I wanted to birth, if I ever chose to do it again.

This is the point in the story where I should tell you, I’m fat. And I mean that in a neutral way, like if I was to say, I’m tall. Or Caucasian. Or I have brown hair. I am fat. Plus size. Curvy. A little more junk in the trunk. Whatever you want to call it, that’s me!

Why am I telling you this? Because being fat, or having a BMI of a certain number, will generally impact how a hospital treats you when you are pregnant/giving birth. Assumptions will be made about your health, for example, you might be told that you’ll definitely get gestational diabetes and pre-eclampsia. You might be told not to gain weight during pregnancy. You might be told that your chances for a vaginal birth are slim. You might be told you need to undergo extra monitoring and scans. However, none of this stuff is evidence based, or mandatory. But it is deeply rooted in fatphobia and anti-fat bias. 

I knew that trying for a vaginal birth after caesarean (VBAC) was an option, but I also knew that attempting a VBAC as a plus size woman in a hospital, the odds would be stacked against me. That’s not to say it can’t be done, it absolutely can, but statistically speaking, only 11.8% of women in Victoria, Australia (where I live) will have a successful VBAC for their second birth (data from the 2022 National Core Maternity Indicators report).

This led me to my decision to have an elective caesarean. I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my choice but I knew that if I attempted a VBAC and ended up having another emergency caesarean, I would not cope mentally. Making the informed decision to choose a caesarean removed that risk. It was the only way I felt I could take back my power.

And that’s what I did.

Unlike last time, where I had done no preparation for a potential c-section, this time I was ready.

I let my care providers know very early that I was going to be having a caesarean and they never questioned me or tried to persuade me otherwise. 

On the day of my caesarean I was nervous and excited. There’s something so strange about choosing your child’s birthday and knowing with certainty that they will be here on that day. 

I created my birth wishes just like you would for any other type of birth. This included requests like playing Taylor Swift, delayed cord clamping, immediate skin to skin and for baby not to be removed from my chest until after his first breastfeed. I also made a list of oxytocin boosting ideas to get my oxytocin flowing which included things like looking at photos of my son, kisses and hugs from my husband, and laughter. 

All of the staff that were looking after me that day were incredible. I don’t know if the stars had aligned or I was in the right place at the right time but I hit the jackpot. 

The anaesthetist asked me what my last caesarean was like and I said “it was horrible, traumatic, and not something I ever want to experience again.”

He responded, “well today we’re going to get it right.” 

After being properly anaesthetised, the process began. The obstetricians made sure to communicate with me about what was happening. The room was quiet, with my favourite songs playing softly, and my husband and I just stared at each other, waiting…

When Teddy was lifted from my uterus the song playing in theatre was Evermore by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver. It’s a sad song, the lyrics describe someone who is depressed for months on end, wondering if their pain would be for Evermore? But in the last verse the narrative changes, and the lyric reads:

“And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for

Evermore”

When I think of the heartbreak and sadness of my first birth, this song sums it up perfectly. Wondering when I would feel ok about it, if ever. Birthing Teddy in such a positive way has flipped my feelings, and that pain from Sonny’s birth seems less. A memory now. A scar, not a wound. 

Maybe I was never going to make sense of Sonny’s birth until Teddy was born. Despite the work I have done to accept it, the debriefings, journaling, reflections. Unbeknownst to me, I needed to birth Teddy to finally feel some peace around Sonny’s entrance to the world. 

Teddy’s birth was like locking in the final piece of the healing journey for Sonny. It showed me what I was capable of and what I deserved but never received last time.

If Sonny’s birth was a journey to finding my inner strength, voice and warriorhood, then Teddy’s was the birth to bring those learnings to life. 

And I will cherish both experiences forever. 

Evermore.

Steph is a qualified Postpartum Doula, former journalist and mother of two boys. She lives in Geelong in Victoria and supports women both in-person and virtually in postpartum. She believes that every woman deserves a f*cking epic postpartum experience and will do whatever she can to make that a reality. You can find Steph on Instagram @postpartum_with_steph or learn more about her work at www.postpartumwithsteph.com