My Two-Time Vaginal Birth Should Earn Me Some Freaking Medals

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vaginal birthWhen do I get my medals?

I wanted to read about Tori Spelling‘s life threatening complication with Finn Davey but I couldn’t get past the phrasing. They used the word “give birth.” Wait a second!  I’ve seen Tori & Dean.  She schedules those surgeries on a day that works for the show’s filming, her doctor’s vacation and the baby nurse’s availability.  Giving birth insinuates labor and delivery, whereas she had those babies removed by C-section.

It’s fine, really, I don’t see anything wrong with C-sections, but let’s not pretend you did the same thing I did.   Which was push, through uterine contractions and sheer willpower, a seven-pound baby from my uterus through the birth canal and out my vagina.  Twice.  Once, I defied death. The next time I did it with no drugs.  Standing up. I think that earns me some freaking medals.

I’ll give you this:  labor, no matter how it progresses or ends, is the most intense of situations.  Like your wedding day, all eyes are on you — except instead of practicing your fox trot to Sinatra, you are getting ready to pass a small-but-not-so-small human being through the lower portion of your body.  The pain is like nothing you can imagine.  Everyone is different and every delivery is distinct but no one who actually experiences labor gets off easy.   With that said, there should be some sort of grading system so that I can collect my accolades.

Even though I had intended to give birth naturally with my first child, nature had a different plan.  Right off the bat medical intervention was necessary, and my labor was induced because of the dangerously low level of amniotic fluid and the threat to the health of my baby. After the 16 hours of labor and four hours of pushing my first born arrived.  The doctor quickly discovered I had placenta accreta, a condition where the placenta actually grows into the uterus rather than simply attaching.   It caused me to hemorrhage to the point that I lost consciousness and needed a blood transfusion.

First delivery, first medal:  surviving a near-death experience.

The second time around, I was prepared and determined to do it naturally.  If I didn’t die after the first one, I figured I could survive anything.  Even the vaunted “ring of fire.”  And I did it.  Second delivery, second medal:  the gold standard.

Giving birth without any medical intervention is the ultimate in bragging rights.  Gall stones?  Please.  Tattoo on your face?  Child’s play.  Stomach flu?  Doesn’t even register.  Natural childbirth trumps all.  Don’t talk to me about your pain, my body did the impossible — created, housed and birthed a child with no help from anyone (aside from my husband’s initial contribution of course).    

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