Sadie and I made a trip to Target today, and we saw one of the midwives from our, well, home labor. I can’t call it a home birth, even though that’s what she called it. Sadie wasn’t born at home. I labored and labored and labored at home. but Sadie was cut out of my abdomen. Remembering back to right after it all happened, there were some people who would tell me it’s like I did both–had a home birth AND a hospital birth. But I didn’t. And it sort of makes me mad when people say that, and I’m just now admitting it, I think. A home birth is where you push your baby out of your body in the comfort of your own home. That is the opposite of how Sadie was born. If I had wanted only to labor at home, I would have hired a doula and planned a hospital birth. In hindsight, maybe that’s what I should have done…maybe somebody would have noticed Sadie’s poor position early enough to move her. There are just so many what-ifs. What if somebody had noticed? What if I could have spent early labor on my hands and knees, trying to get her in a better position? Would I have been able to deliver her vaginally? I know there’s no use in asking those questions, but they still linger, even after seven months.
Here’s the worst of it: I am insanely, unfairly, cruelly jealous of my friends who have had vaginal births. So much so that I have to block it out so I can still love them and their babies. Because sometimes I want to hate them, and that is horrible and hurtful and not what I am all about. Right now I have this pit in my stomach and this tightness in my chest, and I know it’s from today’s chance encounter. Earlier this morning, a friend asked me if I had healed well from my c-section. I told her yes, because the scar is not so scary anymore, and I only occasionally have a tiny twinge of pain or some itchiness. But, emotionally, I have not. Not all the way. I went through this period after Sadie was born where I felt like I wasn’t finished. Like I was somehow still pregnant, and I still had a baby to push out. Sometimes I still feel that way. Excuse the crude analogy, but it’s kind of like having sex but not climaxing. You just don’t feel finished.
Well, that helped. A tiny bit.