The emperor’s cut: A C-section saved my life and my baby’s life

What I knew before All through my pregnancy I said I wanted a natural birth. No drugs, no machines, minimal intervention. I wanted to give my baby a pure beginning—the purest beginning possible, unpolluted by chemicals. “Why? Why put yourself through that?” my husband demanded. “There’s nothing wrong with taking something for the pain. If it was me, I’d be the first one in line.” We fought about it. Our arguments were all about the epidural. We never once argued about a C-section. Chances that I’d need one seemed remote. My mom had five kids. Her mom had seven. My dad’s mom had ten. None by caesarean. Green light! I also argued passionately with one of my best friends. She tried to explain that there was a really good reason why epidurals were invented. That they were beneficial and not at all to be sneered at. In my arrogance, I shrugged off her good sense; in my ignorance, I couldn’t really picture what kind of help someone else could give me. At that point, I still believed that birth was ultimately a one-person job. I thought if I controlled it all, nothing bad could happen. Nobody would have the chance to get in there and fuck things up. Because even though they say there’s no harm in having an epidural, who really knows? Mistakes happen. What if there is an overdose? An allergic reaction? Some other tragic accident? No thank you. Better safe than sorry. My plan was to just let that baby sail out and let Nature take care of things. In my defense, there are a lot of stories out there about exactly that kind of birth. I even talked to women, in person, who said they had that kind of birth: incredible, awe-inspiring, full of joy. […]

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