Details of a cesarean section.

Today the post is somewhat special because it is the first-person account of a mother who suffered an emergency cesarean section. It was not easy for her or her father for the reasons that you will read below.

I invite you to also tell me your story. Whether it was positive or whether something has remained inside you and you want to tell it. It seems to me that it can be helpful for everyone, some for you to explain your experience and for pregnant women it may be helpful.

In fact, we can extend it to the experience of pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding. You think ?

Details of a cesarean section.

I entered the dilation room at half past six in the morning and the delivery room at nine. The day was entertaining, with too many details. At seven in the afternoon I stopped dilating; We spent an hour waiting to go over seven centimeters, but it didn’t happen that way. And my son, stuck since he was six months old, wanted to go out neck first. The gynecologist told me not to worry about her, that he was fine, but that the intervention was necessary. In less than fifteen minutes we were already in the operating room in the middle of a mess.

And at this point, whenever I remember what’s coming next, I get sad. Sometimes I cry and the scar hurts. A lot.

I am aware that for the professionals in the operating room it was just another operation, but not for me. If everything went well, I was about to meet my son and I didn’t give a shit about the barbecue the anesthetist was organizing, or his leaks with the nurse, or the football comments… When the gynecologist took my son out, I could barely see him. a few seconds. When they cut the cord, they laughed because the blood had reached the wall. Everything went well and even so, about eight people saw my son before me.

During the time I was in the operating room, a nurse stood right behind me, next to my face. She explained to me everything that was happening. Your son is coming out, do you hear how he cries? He is very good, he is very big. For me, at that moment, that woman was an angel.

I didn’t do skin to skin either. The father did it, but in what way. They told him that he would be in a quiet room and took him directly to the floor room; room where one of the beds was already occupied, where there was a visitor, where the television was on. Where no one told her if the cesarean section went well or why it took me so long. Touch, respect and zero sensitivity.

During childbirth preparation classes we visited the hospital where he was supposed to give birth. After this visit I did not return to classes. I know the answer is money, but why don’t they make motherhood more pleasant places? I asked to change to another hospital where I liked the maternity policy. The place was cozy, you didn’t feel like you were in a hospital. Although these protocols had nothing to do with going to the operating room…from heaven to hell in a matter of minutes.

They prepare us to sweat, scream, push, push again, ask for an epidural (or not), the importance of oxytocin, the possible episiotomy and its care, skin to skin… but they do not prepare us for an emergency cesarean section.

They tell me not to give it any more importance, that we are both fine and that there are worse things. I know. I am aware that fifty years ago my child or I may not have gotten ahead.

They also tell me not to worry about the scar. I do not do it. It doesn’t bother me. It’s another chapter of my life. I am bothered by the lack of information that pregnant women receive about an operation whose probability, unfortunately, is very real. Let’s not forget that we live in a country where the rate of cesarean sections is much higher than recommended by the WHO.

Luckily things are changing and childbirth is more respected every day. I also don’t work in healthcare and I deduce that a delivery room is not the same as an operating room. That is why I ask that the cesarean section be made a little more humane. And that the father, or companion, who is with you all day, be taken into consideration.

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