I was staring into the air and thinking about c-sections. Yes, this is what I sometimes do when I get that look and drift off into that space in my head when my eyes go blurry. You know what I mean? Oh, you don’t? Oh. Oops. Okay. Scratch that then. But I was thinking about the women who actually choose to have a c-section. No, not you mama who had multiples. Not you either mom with the medical issue. Not you over there either, the one who had the last minute emergency. I’m talking about the women who look at their calendar around the time of their due date and say, let’s mark it in pen, Saturday the 21st is the best time since the week before I have that work party and the week after it’s supposed to rain.
And before anyone who had a c-section because they had to thinks this is about them, just know it isn’t. I am you. I had a c-section. In case you are reading me for time numero uno, let’s just say twins, preeclampsia/HELLP syndrome = cesarean.
So in my thinking about the mamas who PLAN their C, I wondered why. And then I compared it to popping a pimple.
You know how if you have a pimple and it doesn’t have a head yet but you really really really want to pop it and you tell yourself you are going to wait but you just can’t wait because surely underneath the redness is a whitehead waiting to purge itself all over your bathroom mirror? And then you try to pop it and it’s totally not ready and instead you end up with a huge red blistery thing that doesn’t give you the popping pimple satisfaction but instead bleeds and scabs? Well, scheduled c-sections could be something like that. Baby, like the yuck in your pimple, isn’t ready to come out and instead it’s forced out and it’s really not a good thing. Better to wait until baby/pimple is ready and it’s a much more satisfying experience for everyone.
Maybe it has to do with patience. I mean, who has it anymore? My husband sure doesn’t. It’s a lost art we should resurrect on the third day when he cometh again (whoops Catholic upbringings talking there). *Shakes it off* We would all be so much happier if we took the time to smell the roses. Because even Bret knows every rose has its thorn. So if you took the time to smell them and not rammed your face into the rose, you wouldn’t get pricked. You know, ’cause haste makes waste! (Barf! Cliches are lame but totally worked there!) Yet in this me-me-me-MEEEEE society we live in (generalizing) it makes sense that everything has to be about convenience and so a woman who decides she wants to have a c-section just to control the day she has her baby is really having a me-smecktion.
As a society, one way to scale back on non-emergency c-sections is to cure the haste of our society. Yeah. Good luck with that, right?
And try telling that to Dr. Rushy Rushy who works at Hospital Cut Me Up.
Maybe we shouldn’t put so much weight on a due date. It should be a time frame, not a date. And, we all need to slow it down, tigers. Baby is going to come when baby is ready! Baby can’t see our monthly planner.
I need to stop staring into the air and thinking about c-sections.
UPDATE: Whoops! I really didn’t want to upset anyone. And for some – heck most all – of you who commented, I really don’t feel like this is about you either, though you are making it about you. I am a c-section mama too, remember. And I love pregnant women and babies — all of you, even the ones throwing daggers at me. I care deeply about this topic because I feel too many of us are incorrectly informed at no fault of our own. I still got mad love for even the haters.
Photo Flickr isafmedia