👶 C-Section or VBAC: A Personal Dilemma

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👶 C-Section or VBAC: A Personal Dilemma
Before the birth of my second child, Van, who is now fourteen, I wrote this reflection. My thoughts were consumed by the looming decision regarding his delivery, a topic that held particular weight because his older sister, Zelda, had been born via Cesarean section.
The experience with Zelda naturally led us to question the safest and best approach for the next delivery. The medical term that dominated our discussions was Vaginal Birth After C-section (VBAC). The prospect was alluring—the promise of a standard delivery and recovery—but it came with a significant degree of anxiety and risk. On the other hand, a planned repeat C-section offered a predictable, though major, surgical procedure.

Ultimately, after careful consideration and consultation with our doctors, Van was born via C-section in the end. This was a deliberate choice. A major factor in our decision was the estimate of his size; he was projected to be larger than Zelda was at birth. Given the potential complications associated with a larger baby and a VBAC—including the elevated risk of an emergency situation—we concluded that a scheduled C-section was the prudent and safest path forward for both me and for Van. Looking back, we remain confident that we made the best decision possible given the medical circumstances and information available to us at the time.

This period of deliberation was particularly intense, and a memory that solidified our choice came from a friend who was navigating the very same decision. Unlike us, she was determined to have a vaginal birth. Tragically, her attempt to deliver vaginally had a severe complication: the baby eventually had to be delivered via emergency C-section because her uterine scar ruptured. That outcome was a powerful, sobering reminder of the very real risks involved in a VBAC and served to validate our decision to proceed with a planned C-section for Van.

👶 C-Section or VBAC: A Personal Dilemma
November 6, 2010
A Crossroads in the Journey: Weighing the Path for Baby Va
n

My husband, Devin, and I find ourselves at a significant and emotionally charged crossroads, desperately trying to discern the safest and most responsible path forward for the arrival of our new baby, Van. Devin, ever my rock, is completely wonderful and has expressed his contentment in leaving the ultimate decision to me. Yet, this freedom, while loving, leaves me utterly and completely torn between two very different medical routes.
The core of my internal debate revolves around the stark reality that both a planned, repeat Cesarean section and the attempt at a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-section) carry distinct and real risks. This isn’t a theoretical concern; it’s rooted in our history. Our first child, our daughter Zelda, was born via an emergency C-section back in October 2009. Now, with Van due in January 2011, the pregnancies are undeniably close—separated by only fifteen months. This remarkably short inter-pregnancy interval is the single factor that haunts my thoughts, as I constantly worry about how it impacts the integrity of my uterine scar and, consequently, the safety of my decision.

My doctor has been a source of both extensive knowledge and, paradoxically, conflicting advice. Her insights are helpful, but they pull me in two different directions. On the one hand, she strongly suggested that a VBAC would be the preferable route if our family’s long-term vision includes having more children. It would reduce the accumulated risk of multiple major abdominal surgeries. On the other hand, she was quick to reassure me of the relative safety of repeat procedures, noting that I could safely have three C-sections, and we all know people who have gone on to successfully manage four!

This is where my deepest, most agonizing fear resides: the potential to inadvertently place Van in danger. The thought of pursuing a VBAC simply to preserve the option for a larger family down the road feels selfish if it means even a fraction of a percent increase in risk for my baby boy now. I am consumed by the singular desire to know, unequivocally, which of these two paths—a surgical birth or a trial of labor—offers the healthiest start for my baby boy. It’s a decision that feels too heavy to carry alone, and I would genuinely welcome any thoughts, shared experiences, or perspectives from others who have faced this delicate and difficult medical dilemma.

The Case for a Scheduled C-Section
The decision to schedule the birth of our second child is overwhelmingly influenced by practical considerations, a choice that promises to significantly simplify our lives. The logistics surrounding Devin’s demanding job make a planned event almost a necessity; eliminating the uncertainty of when labor might strike ensures he can arrange his work schedule with confidence, minimizing potential disruption and stress for him. Furthermore, arranging childcare for our first daughter, Zelda, is greatly simplified. My cousin, who has graciously offered to help, would benefit immensely from a concrete date, allowing her to make firm plans without the anxiety of a last-minute emergency call.

Beyond the external logistics, scheduling a C-section offers a path to avoid the intense emotional and physical stress I experienced during Zelda’s birth. That spontaneous labor ultimately devolved into a frantic, emergency Cesarean section, a traumatic experience I am keen to prevent repeating. Since a medical induction, which was attempted with Zelda, is not an option this time, choosing a scheduled surgery provides a sense of control and predictability that a trial of labor simply cannot.

There are also encouraging assurances regarding the recovery process. I’ve been advised that a second C-section is often associated with a faster and easier recovery than the first. This is a considerable benefit in itself, but it also translates into a more extended period of approved time off work, a crucial factor for both my physical and mental recuperation.

The advantages of a planned surgery extend to the medical setting as well. A scheduled date means I can actively choose my preferred surgeon, ensuring continuity of care with a doctor I trust. The operating room environment will be calm, prepared, and routine, far removed from the rush, worry, and fear associated with a sudden, unscheduled emergency. We can walk into the hospital knowing exactly what to expect.

However, the weight of this decision rests on one major, permanent drawback. Committing to a scheduled C-section means accepting that a vaginal birth is no longer a possibility for me. Every future child we are blessed with will, by necessity, have to be delivered via Cesarean section. This single choice sets the course for all our future births.

The Appeal of a VBAC
The upcoming delivery is consuming my thoughts, primarily because of the intense desire for a successful Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC). The very idea of achieving a vaginal delivery is tremendously exciting—it’s a deeply personal milestone that offers such freedom. A successful VBAC would finally open up the possibility of having more children in the future without the looming certainty of another major surgery every single time. It would mean that my family planning is dictated by nature and readiness, not by a surgeon’s calendar.

Beyond the long-term implications, I strongly believe a vaginal delivery will make the immediate postpartum period much easier to navigate. I vividly remember the grueling recovery from my first C-section; the incision pain, the inability to move easily, and the extended time before I truly felt like myself again. I imagine, and desperately hope, that the post-delivery pain following a VBAC won’t be nearly as intense or debilitating, allowing me to be more present and active with my newborn, Van.

Regarding the logistics of the delivery, I’ve made the firm decision to have an epidural. This was not a choice made lightly but was largely influenced by the medical advice I received. The doctors presented it as a crucial safety net: in the event that the trial of labor became unstable or if we encountered an emergency that necessitated a repeat C-section, they could simply administer additional anesthetic through the already-placed epidural line. This would eliminate the dangerous time delay of having to perform general anesthesia.

However, the single biggest factor driving my preference for a VBAC is the timing of the birth. A vaginal delivery allows Van to determine his own birthday, coming when his body and lungs are truly ready. I have a profound anxiety about the standard C-section protocol, which typically schedules the surgery a week or two earlier than the due date to prevent the onset of labor. I worry that this premature exit will deprive him of the final, necessary days or even weeks of development in the womb—time that is so vital for the maturation of his organs and systems. The thought of him coming out before he has reached his optimal readiness weighs heavily on me.

Conclusion
I understand and deeply respect that the doctors and medical team are the experts, possessing the knowledge and experience to guide this process safely. Yet, despite their assurances and statistics, this choice feels so immense, so personal, and so loaded with emotional weight. It is not just a medical procedure; it is the gateway to my child’s life and a defining moment in my own journey as a mother. I am finding myself at a crossroads, balancing medical recommendations against my strong maternal instincts and deeply felt desires. More than anything, I am hoping to connect with other mothers who have walked this path—to hear what specific challenges they faced during their own VBAC attempts, what resources or conversations ultimately helped them find peace and certainty about their final decision, and how they reconciled the inherent risks with the profound reward.
On January 17, 2011, I gave birth via-c-section to a healthy baby boy. He is not 14 years old and in the 8th grade.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

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The Unbreakable Covenant

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The Unbreakable Covenant

We stand together, a multitude wide,
Our inherent worth cannot be denied.
We are the many, strong and profound,
On worthy, undeniable ground.

A powerful force, a presence complete,
In every life’s aspect, we cannot retreat.
We are the bedrock, the muse, and the light,
The mothers who nurture, the wives who unite.
Companions and partners, the friends tried and true,
The unwavering support, seeing the world through.

Yet a flaw in our unity, a shadow we find,
The support we give others, we leave behind.
Hesitant to challenge, to push past the ease,
To reach true potential that surely would please.
And most painful of all, a failure to claim,
The hard-won successes, and speak a sister’s name.

This must cease now, the passive days gone,
We must seek out the moments, from dusk until dawn.
To offer our praise, let our voices ring true,
Each milestone a triumph, for me and for you.
To consciously lift, giving momentum and grace,
For every woman to find her true place.
To challenge with love, with expectation’s firm hand,
Demanding of excellence, across all the land.
No criticism this is, but mutual rise,
Reflected in sisterhood’s true, loving eyes.

Through this vow to support, and challenge we make,
The success we can grasp, for goodness’ sake.
Empowering each other, we’ll shift and transform,
The women the world needs, weathering every storm.
We’ll embody the purpose, we were meant to be,
The women who changed the world, for all eyes to see.

To achieve this high goal, the toxins must fall,
Excise the dark poisons that hold us in thrall.
Shed the debilitating jealousy’s sting,
That blinds us to triumphs the good moments bring.

Discard the destructive competition and strife,
Focus energy outward, on a better world’s life.
Not inward, against us, our battles are clear,
Fighting for progress, not fueled by dark fear.

Cast off the petty, the soul-crushing hate,
It consumes the bright light that seals our fate.
The path forward is dimmed by this darkness within,
We must clear out the shadows, and let light begin.

Let a new sacred covenant be firmly held fast,
A mandate of love that is meant to last.
Unconditional loving, and support burning bright,
A sisterhood rising, with all of its might.
Unbreakable, unstoppable, changing the world’s face,
United in purpose, and filled with true grace.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

Holiday Bliss

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The year turns slow, a measured, quiet grace,
The final, faded green surrenders place.
The frost begins to cling, a crystal sheen,
Upon the windowpane, a painted scene.
And through the air, a certain sweet note rings,
The hushed anticipation that it brings.
The scent of pine, a memory held dear,
The flicker of the flame that conquers fear.
The simple joy of calling out a name,
A bond rekindled in the hearth’s warm frame.
For in this season, when the world grows dim,
We gather close—the sturdy branch upon the limb.

The laughter spills from kitchens warm and bright,
A symphony of comfort, pure delight.
Reflecting back the twinkling festive light,
That chases shadows from the longest night.
The worn traditions, comforting and deep,
The silent vows the generations keep.
The treasured tales the passing years will house,
Whispered from grandmother to the spouse.
A mother’s gentle touch, a father’s quiet gaze,
The simple, stunning peace of family days.
We hold these moments, fleeting, fine, and fast,
A glowing anchor, built to truly last.
A tapestry of love in every thread,
The unsaid promises that are instead
Of grand pronouncements, simple, steady truth,
Revisiting the spirit of our youth.

Yet, in this clamor of good cheer and sound,
A deeper, silent shadow can be found.
For some hearts ache beneath the tinsel’s sheen,
Where loneliness resides, unheard, unseen.
Invisible the struggles, sharp, and keen,
The quiet battle fought behind a screen.
A heavy blanket where the light should bloom,
The suffocating weight of silent gloom.
A quiet echo in an empty room,
A whispered prayer within a sealed-off tomb.
The world rushes by with cheer and bright display,
Ignoring those who simply cannot play.

O Holy night, when love first filled the sky,
When hope descended from the heavens high,
We lift a fervent, humble, heartfelt cry:
For every soul that walks in winter’s shade,
Whose burdened spirit feels unseen, afraid—
For those who carry burdens heavy, long,
Who cannot join the general, joyful song—
May they know comfort, strength, and gentle rest,
And find the solace of a single, soft breast.

We open wide the door, the hearth, the chair,
A gesture pure, a message we can share.
To banish loneliness with genuine care,
To offer sanctuary from the chill air.
If your own light is faltering, low, and weak,
It is our kinship that we humbly seek.
You are not strange; you are not far; you belong,
Come share our shelter, join our welcoming song.
Let silence break, let every fear release,
And find within these walls a lasting peace.
May every spirit, broken, bruised, or sad,
Be touched by peace, and know they are made glad
Not just by feasting, bright and well-supplied,
But by love’s true grace that flows on every tide—
A safe, warm haven in this hallowed place,
Reflecting God’s own open, kind embrace.