How it began

A few people had came to me before and told me of their “magical” experience with childbirth. They claimed that the minute they saw their bundles of creamy joy being put on their chest, they forgot all the excruciating pain and bla bla bla… dah dah dah…

I will not hesitate to tell the truth about my birthing experience too. That it was a horrific one.

I had woken up bleeding in the ungodly hours of the night and alone because D-man was away serving the army. I showered and packed my bag before hailing a cab to the hospital. Upon admitting myself, I was told that I needed an emergency c-section right away due to a complication with my placenta. As the doctor goes on to explain the procedure, I had already zoomed out and was in my mind counting the number of hours I had wasted on researching the benefits of drug-free childbirth, the time and dollars spent on pre-natal yoga, consultations with a doula etc, all just to gear up for the much raved about natural labour.

It would be pure hypocrisy to say I was not disappointed with the method of delivery. It certainly doesn’t help that everyone around you are committed advocates of natural childbirth. But did it made me any less of a mother? Hell no, and my sentiments are shared by all my loved ones.

What I am really saying is…if you kicked the kerb & tripped into the same emotional manhole of blaming yourself for a less than perfect birth experience (whatever that is), it’s ok. Just get up, swear, brush the dirt off yourself and move on. The roses and rainbow are right ahead, and will be personally delivered to you by your very own cherub

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