The First Cut is the Deepest.
I can't write this post. At least not well. Not the way it needs to be written, with authority and pride, with the heart that it deserves. The first cut was the deepest, was the worst for me.
April is Cesarean Awareness month and with four of them, quite literally, under my belt I should be an old pro and be able to speak comfortably on the subject. Yet I really can't. There is not a single comfortable thought in my mind about this type of birth, this surgery that I have endured and survived so many times.
Maybe you know already, that my first c-section, my second daughter's birth, was a simple one. She was breech and though I disagreed with the plan, she was evicted too early at 34weeks because she was low on fluid and the doctor was worried.
There is so much you should know about how that one cut, the first cut, was not right. I'm certain it was textbook and perfectly executed. But it was all wrong for me.
How can I tell you without sounding ridiculous, without the words cutting with blame and bitterness, how that one cut permanently changed our trajectory?
I don't know for certain what ended our next two pregnancies, but that first cut likely was a factor.
My third daughter's premature birth was a complication of that first cut, her placenta attaching itself in the worst spot, hemorrhaging and placing both of us in danger.
And all the dreams that were dashed from that first cut.
Another tiny loss, an early one, again without a cause.
And oh the heartbreak that came directly from that first cut, last year and again this year.
The muscle scarred once, then twice, like my heart, that has never healed again to be whole and perfect.
For some, the cut is necessary, for some it is desirable, for some it is a minimal memory. None of this is true of my first cut. It can never be minimized.
Since I've lost my perspective to teach without bias, perhaps I can suggest some "light" reading for anyone interested:
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