Lover of God, wife, mother, British missionary in Peru... click here to learn more about Anna and this blog and how it can serve you.

Facing up to C section disappointment

Facing up to my disappointments with Kaleb’s birth being a C-section, I have been thinking about Jesus’ decision to go to the cross.

We were given the decision to continue trying for a natural breech birth with Kaleb, or transfer for a C section. In prayer, we felt God telling us the only way forward was a C section, and in obedience we agreed to the transfer, that probably saved his life (the cord was around his neck and too short to allow him to come down naturally). At the moment of decision, we had a choice between life and death. Obedience and death to desires; or disobedience and physical death. It was a choice that wasn’t a choice!

Jesus too, chose to go to the cross, given the choice that really wasn’t a choice considering the outcomes!

But the fact that we chose the C-section, and Jesus chose the cross does not mean there was no trauma involved. It does not mean there was no suffering. It just gave meaning to the suffering. Even in Jesus’ resurrected body, the holes in his hands were still there – a reminder of the cost of his resurrection.

I am very grateful for Kaleb’s life and to God for guiding us in the process of his birth. But, as I wrote about in the previous post about binding, part of the healing process for me is speaking out the pain in order to give it over to God. Since writing the following poem, I have felt cleansed from much of the hurt I felt about the surgery. I thought very hard about publishing this poem, as it is very personal, but I know that other women have had to deal emotionally with having C-sections and the feelings of loss associated with that, so for that reason, I have decided to publish it. It was not my intention to be negative or ungrateful about the C-section, but to be real and recognize that my God is strong enough to bind me as I heal!

Like a lamb led to the slaughter

Laid on back

Arms strapped down

Stripped naked

Shivering helplessly


Hidden behind a blue screen

In that moment no care for the baby

I just wanted the assault to be over

Perhaps it would be better to just be asleep.

Think positively.

Why are images of palm trees flooding my mind?

Is it over yet?

It was only your sharp, squeaky cry that managed to cut through my indifference and cause tears to run down my cheeks – tears I couldn’t wipe away.

´Kiss him´

An order.

A drugged kiss upon a forehead I could hardly see. A hazy view.

Then gone. Whisked away.

That was it.

That was the birth.

Left all alone in a room full of masked men arguing over the date of your arrival.

0:01 August 6th 2011.

Someone else comforting my baby.

Someone else catching his first glimpses.

Someone else attending to him.

Laid out alone without you.

The only part of me covered: the breasts that should have been nursing you.

Calming voices telling me to breathe

I want to scream.

As a sheep before her shearers is silent

I breathe and the shivering diminishes for two seconds

Endless minutes of numbness

How long does it take to sew it all up?

Why won’t someone get me a blanket?

Why is my baby not with me?

I am wheeled away to the ´recovery´ room

Two ladies talk harshly and tell me to stop shivering.

They give me a blanket but keep removing it to check the bleeding

The shivering swells and quells and I am all alone

´Shake your legs´ the women bark

I try.

´When can I leave?’

‘No talking. When you can shake your legs.’

I want to get out of here. Where are those who can speak kind words?

All my shivers dissolve into forcing my legs into action

Ever so slowly they respond.

´Right. Shift yourself onto this bed´

They push and pull and I am onto the bed and wheeled away along cold empty midnight corridors

I would like to say my first moments with my baby were beautiful

But I don’t remember much of when they brought him to me.

I remember he nursed straight away and looked at me briefly.

I remember that my eyes would not stay open and flickered helplessly.

I remember the relief that they reunited us straight away.

I remember refusing to let them take him away again.

The surgery rescued my baby from probable death

It was his only way out

The ‘decision’ to go to the cross

The choice of life or death

Does not negate the suffering

It just validates it

After the suffering of his soul,

He will see the light of life and be satisfied

ISAIAH 53:11

Teaching me to trust