Today is the Section Anniversary

When I talk about my cesarean do you hear that I'm judging you? What you should hear is that five years ago I had a surgical birth that I didn't want, wasn't prepared for, and still mourn. What I'm saying is that whether or not mine was necessary it left a scar that healed in the shape of a frown and a scar that is still open. If you really listened to me, you'd know that I don't believe all c-sections are unnecessary and evil but that there are a heck of a lot of them being performed that aren't necessary and those are evil. Birth in this country has become a high-stakes football game with women and babies acting as that old "pig skin". The fact is: cesareans aren't safe. Your skin and uterus are cut and they weren't meant to be. If I stretch a rubber band too tightly it will break because it wasn't made to stretch that far.

Five years ago I bled nails and hot tears
Now I bleed bitter sweetness and love
But it still hurts, and I still bleed

My first child, my sweet little girl, will forever share her spot in my mind with an awful memory. Maybe that's what hurts the most. It's not fair to her and it's not fair to me. So, each January 12 I smile and congratulate, give sweet hugs and pretty presents, and marvel as this little 3lb baby continues to grow and learn. But in the evening I close my door and I hurt. I hurt.

I know many of you will say that it shouldn't be so bad this year because I finally "got the birth I always wanted." I wanted that kind of birth for my babies! Not for me. Sarah didn't get that birth. I was able to give it to her two younger siblings, but not her. Not her. That's never going to change.

January 12, 2005
The day of my daughter's exit from my open womb.
My baby's birth.

Weeping

There is a chance of snow here (in mid/south Georgia no less!) on Sarah's 5th birthday. The 5th anniversary of my section. Words almost fail me, as I feel I cannot describe what a beautiful gift that would be.

Snow, white, pure, fresh, forgiven snow.

Snow, frozen water, like tears. Beautiful frozen January tears. As if the Lord himself was weeping with me and quenching this still-burning ache in my heart.

Snow, clean and light, on the very day my heart feels the dirtiest and most burdened.

Snow... snow!