When I talk about my C-section, I often find myself explaining it away with phrases like “medically necessary” (which it wasn’t) or “big baby” (true, but many women deliver larger babies naturally). Sometimes, people accept this with a nod and a sympathetic glance before changing the topic. Other times, they dig deeper, reminding me that most women can have natural births that are empowering. They express anger on my behalf, as if I was pressured into surgery, throwing around statistics and terms like “unnecesarean.” This leaves me feeling embarrassed and silently agreeing.
It’s undeniable—birth can be a beautiful experience, and it should ideally be so. I had no medical reason for my surgery. C-sections can be beneficial for those who have survived trauma, and I completely understand that giving birth might have triggered painful memories for me. The thought of being in a clinical setting, surrendering control over my body to strangers, was intimidating. The soothing words of the staff like “Just breathe, honey, it will be over soon” could have sent me spiraling back into darkness.
C-section rates are on the rise, with 1 in 3 births now involving this procedure. For many women, the reasons for their surgery are rooted in mental health rather than physical necessity. I had planned for a natural birth; I read books, spoke with friends who described their experiences as transformative, and envisioned myself breathing through contractions with my partner supporting me by my side.
However, throughout my pregnancy, I could feel the effects of past trauma surfacing. Each doctor’s appointment filled me with anxiety as I felt my body being handled without regard for my feelings. I would go home to practice calming techniques, brew raspberry leaf tea, and watch birthing videos, but it was all futile.
I reached 40 weeks and 2 days before I broke down in the midwife’s office. My baby, who was estimated to weigh around 8.5 pounds, wasn’t positioned correctly, and the mention of “induction” and “forceps” made my heart race. I couldn’t face that kind of birth—I needed a calm environment with gentle music, not a chaotic scene filled with constant medical checks.
I opted for surgery, voluntarily signing the consent form with a sense of relief and embraced the last few days of my pregnancy. The fear had dissipated. While I could have attempted a vaginal birth, I didn’t want to jeopardize my mental health. Would you risk your well-being for the sake of a particular birth experience? I made a decision that I still support. My son was born in an operating room, and my husband and I laughed when the doctor held him up because he was safe, and so was I.
Many women share similar stories; some may find the peaceful birth they seek, whether in a hospital or at home. Others may feel overwhelmed by the prospect of interventions and may welcome the predictability of a C-section. For these women, it’s about choice, control, and being heard. It’s about acknowledging one’s strength and resilience.
The scar on my body will never bother me because it represents a choice I made. I cherish it and am thankful for it. If you find yourself in conversation with someone who hesitates to share details about their C-section, respect their journey. Don’t push for information or suggest alternatives—they likely know their options and are managing deeper scars that go beyond the physical.
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In summary, the experience of birth varies greatly among women, and the choices made during pregnancy can be deeply personal. It’s important to respect each woman’s journey and recognize that what matters most is the feeling of empowerment and control over one’s body and choices.