I'm still trying to process my labor. I have a lot of questions "why" things went the way they did. Why was there SO MUCH more pain than "normal". Why did it take SO LONG to accomplish anything?
This labor was similar, although longer and more painful, to Blondie's. Does this mean that this is now how my body "does labor"? Did the c-section break me? My body used to be very good and efficient at birthing babies before the section.
There was a VBAC story posted recently on one of my midwifery email lists. It was really similar to mine. One of the midwives was responding about that persistently posterior cervix and speculating that the uterine scar was preventing the contraction from reaching beyond the scar into the cervix to thin it and pull it forward. It makes sense.... but also means that without manual help, it would likely be this way again, should I have another baby.
I do want more babies, but quite frankly, I would be absolutely petrified of going into labor again.
Would my labor have progressed if I had NOT called anyone on Monday morning? If I had waited longer? What if I had stayed in bed, where the contractions were so much more painful? Did that mean they were more effective? Looking back, I see that my cervix seemed to swell or thicken over the day instead of getting thinner. It never pulled anterior that I could tell until Baby Girl's head came through.
Should I have called FaeryLady much sooner to try and move the baby's head and get my cervix out of the way? Or would that have ended in a transport and c-section?
So many questions I will never have the answer to.
This postpartum period though has been idyllic. My postpartum doula is the most awesome help. She runs errands, helps with meals, makes sure my room is picked up, and handles kid stuff so I don't have to leave my bedroom. Time moves slower in here. Instead of sitting on the sofa in the family room, in the middle of the chaos, trying to direct the flow of the day, I'm sitting in my bedroom, holding my precious baby, getting to know the flow of her days, and just basking in her tiny body, soft skin, delicious smell, and big blue eyes.
I've only had one epidsode of weepiness and that was when I was contemplating if I am now "broken" and whether or not I could ever want to give birth again. Me. The person who loved giving birth, who enjoyed labor. Now it scares me. And that hurts me at my core. It doesn't scare me for other women, because I do have faith in other women's bodies. But I've lost faith in mine.