I read a disturbing article about the dangers of c-sections in the local paper this morning.
There's no way I'll risk another labour, not after three hours of unproductive pushing followed by a massive abruption that killed my son. No thank you. Thomas died when he was off the monitors during the sprint from my birthing suite to the OR. In 25 minutes he went from being safe and healthy to being born brain dead. And they had no idea until they pulled him out.
I won't risk any of that ever again. But apparently I'll be risking a lot by having another section. According to the article, anyway.
I just loathe that newspapers latch onto these kinds of stories and run with them. If you're going to post the results of a study, post ALL the results. Don't pick and choose the scariest bits and leave out all the rest.
Not only is it irresponsible journalism, it's just plain cruel.
I sat there on the couch in my purple moon and stars pajamas, a white knuckled grip on the paper, my eyes bugging out of my head and my heart racing. Along with what's left of my mind.
And the thing is, I don't have a choice. I can't risk a VBAC. And even if they told me I could, I wouldn't. In all seriousness, that probably would drive me right over the edge. I've been strong enough to endure a lot over the last two years, but I know I'm not strong enough for that. I'm just not.
I'm going to assume that if I survived it once - with a couple of serious complications thrown in for good measure - I can do it again.
You know, if I ever get pregnant.