Our author knew that the third and final birth would also be a caesarean section. That was okay, but she never wanted to be separated from her baby right after the birth. She insisted on caesarean bonding. The best decision of your life.
January 2012. After many exhausting hours in the delivery room, I was pushed into the operating room. “Just a few more minutes, then hold your daughter in your arms,” the midwife reassured me, her hand on my trembling shoulders. The thought of my child actually calmed me down. What I didn’t know at the time: After a caesarean section, you don’t hold your child in your arms like you would imagine after a birth. With a bit of luck you will get a completely wrapped towel packet placed on a strapped arm and try to twist your head somehow so that you can guess the baby’s face. After a few moments, the child’s dad leaves the operating room for bonding with the towel package. You stay behind and feel empty and alone. At least that’s how I felt.
After the caesarean section: You are somehow a stranger to me
Certainly not every mum feels like this, but I had big problems with this actually common practice during and after the birth. Today my great girl, now nine years old, couldn’t be closer to me. But in the first few days she was just a stranger to me. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe the shock of the birth. Personally, however, I think it was the precious minutes (and it must have been 60 with her) that I should have spent with her because everything in me was crying out for my child. It was a long time before I realized that I was a real mother now, even though I was looking forward to it so much
The same again? Please do not!
In 2013 history repeated itself. I hoped for a natural birth until the last second, knew: This would be my last chance to ever experience this birth adventure. It should not be. Of course, in the end, I was and still am grateful for the medical opportunities available today. Who knows how this birth would have ended otherwise. And nevertheless. The moment my husband left the operating room with our son was just terrible. Before I had joked with the doctors, but now I just felt like crying. My son should be here, with me, on my chest. He should hear my familiar heartbeat and I should blow him 1000 kisses on his little bald head and promise him to be the best mom I can be. And I could see from my husband that it was difficult for him to leave. It didn’t feel right for him, either, to leave me alone in the operating room.
Caesarean bonding is possible! Happy ending with the third child
I should be wrong. Yes, the second birth might have been the last chance for a natural birth. But it wasn’t my last chance at giving birth as it should be. In the middle of the pandemic, in summer 2020, our little latecomer was born. While the midwife was preparing me for the planned operation, which is a pretty crazy and surreal situation, I dared to ask again what the doctor had reacted rather irritated to during the preliminary discussion: “Can’t my child just stay with me in the operating room? I mean naked, on my chest, like a natural birth? ” The midwife, a very resolute, experienced woman, nodded. “We’ll fix it!” Was all she said. “I’ll discuss that!” I was happy with the handbrake on. Who knows, I thought. Who knows what the other participants will say about it.
That one moment that I dreamed of
The team received me in the operating room. “We’re a bit excited too!” The senior doctor told me. “In fact, we’ve never done that before. But we’ll find a solution.” She told me that so-called caesarean section bonding, i.e. bonding during the operation, the processes have to be changed a little and a few things have to be considered. “It’s cold in here and everything has to stay sterile, so we have to consider a few things.” The mood was focused, but I noticed that the team also somehow thought my wish was good. There was a wonderful excitement in the air. And then it was time. It jerked something, the next moment I heard a shrill baby cry. The midwife took my son and looked at him for a few seconds together with the pediatrician, carefully wiping off the amniotic fluid a little. “We have to cover him well!”, She said and brought preheated towels. And then what I had always dreamed of happened: She laid my just born son on my chest. Naked. She layered a small tower of warm towels on top of him so that it was nice and warm.
So beneficial to feel, smell and caress the child
There he was. Tiny and wet and the small movements exactly matched those I knew from my stomach. While I just cried for joy, it immediately calmed down on my body. The people around us, the open wound, the light, the fear, none of that mattered. My husband told me later that it took a little longer to sew. Third caesarean section. But I didn’t notice anything at all. For the first time, I felt like a mom immediately after giving birth. We lay there, together, one hand of my husband on my shoulder, the other on the tiny, breathing mountain of towels, and everything felt so right. Even when I was moved from the operating table to my bed, my son was left on my chest. The midwife held him with me as he lifted it. And there was just luck.
THAT should be the standard
The question I keep asking myself: Why isn’t THAT the standard? I had so much fewer problems after this birth than after the others. My hormones weren’t that crazy, I was able to get up after a few hours (unthinkable with the other caesarean sections) and my son was so familiar to me from the first second. The pain was also limited and breastfeeding worked much better.
This article originally appeared on ELTERN.de.