Let’s kick things off by saying I speak from experience—nearly two decades of it, to be precise. As a mother, I’ve learned that many of the worries and concerns that kept me up at night in the early years seem utterly trivial now. One of those concerns was the way my children came into the world.
My first child, Zachary, was born 19 years ago through an emergency C-section, and I felt like I had been blindsided. I was devastated, feeling as if I had failed at the most natural of processes. This was not how I envisioned bringing my baby into the world. I had spent months preparing alongside my partner and our gentle birthing instructor, only to have everything turn upside down.
It didn’t matter that the C-section was a life-saving measure for both of us; my mind was clouded with guilt and a sense of inadequacy. Every time I heard a glowing story about a natural birth, I felt like a failure. I constantly berated my body, my scar, and the notion that I had somehow not fulfilled my biological duty to bring my child into the world as nature intended.
As I struggled with the overwhelming demands of new motherhood—along with the unexpected realities of nursing and the risk of infections—I also grappled with the belief that I was somehow less of a woman because of my C-section. After attempting a VBAC with my second child, Aaron, the guilt lingered, even as I became immersed in the whirlwind of caring for two young kids close in age.
Despite my busy schedule, the nagging feeling of inadequacy was always lurking. When I had to share my birth stories, I often felt like I was confessing a crime. I would mumble things like, “Unfortunately, I had a C-section,” and immediately face a barrage of questions. My answers began with phrases like, “I couldn’t…” or “My body didn’t…” It was always about me feeling at fault.
Over the years, however, I came to a profound realization: whether a baby enters the world through a serene natural birth or a medically necessary C-section, they all face the same challenges. They cry, throw tantrums, and yes, they all have moments of failure, just like any other child. How someone arrives here simply doesn’t matter.
I know this now because when my son filled out his college applications, there was no question regarding his method of delivery. On job applications, there’s no box for “C-section” or “vaginal birth.” In the trophies and certificates I proudly display at home, there’s no acknowledgment of how my children came into the world. And let’s be real—no adoptive parent I know cares about the delivery method, either. It’s the love and care you provide that counts.
When my youngest son, Lucas, was born via scheduled C-section, I walked into that hospital with confidence. No guilt or shame weighed me down. Instead, I felt gratitude for the skilled professionals who were there to ensure my baby’s safe arrival. As I awaited the surgery, I was filled with appreciation for the healthcare system that made it all possible. I didn’t think about failure—I thought, “Thank you” and “Let’s get this done, I can’t wait to meet my son!”
For those navigating similar feelings, remember that your child’s birth story does not define your worth as a parent. If you want to learn more about home insemination, check out this insightful blog post on intracervical insemination. And if you’re looking for reliable at-home insemination kits, Make a Mom offers excellent products. For additional resources on pregnancy and infertility, ACOG provides valuable information at this link.
In summary, it’s essential to realize that how your baby comes into this world doesn’t matter as much as the love and care you provide afterward. Embrace your journey and let go of the guilt.