How My C-Section Awakened My Womb Wellness Journey
The day I gave birth was one of the happiest days of my life, but also one of the scariest. Ultimately, I got to meet the beautiful baby girl I had been carrying by 4:32 a.m. the morning after my labor began, but the events leading up to her birth were stress-inducing at best, downright frightening at worst. This was my first pregnancy ever. At 7 months, during a routine ultrasound, a doctor found that I had a velamentous cord insertion, meaning any pressure the baby put on the cord could result in a rupture with fatal consequences for both me and my daughter. My obstetrician, the same woman who had been my gynecologist since age 13, assured me that it would be alright. "I'll let you labor, but if anything seems off, you'll have to have a C-section." So I prayed, I journaled, I googled about it until my worry subsided and my faith took over. But when I went into labor at a full 40 weeks, the result of an induction, my doctor worried about my baby's unresponsive heartbeat and decided to go ahead with the C-Section.
Already well into labor, screaming and twisting my husband's fingers, I awaited my C-Section. The operating room was freezing cold. One doctor urged me to stay still for the epidural as the most painful writhing I've ever experienced took place in my uterus. Then it was me laid flat on an operating table, only a curtain between me and my cut open womb. After my daughter was delivered, one of the younger, assisting surgeons pointed at my open abdomen and asked in shock to my doctor, "What's that?" My doctor told her they were fibroids. I was shaking violently with cold and fear despite the nurses’ attempts to warm me. My husband brought over our new baby girl, giving me a surge of joy, but I never forgot how it felt to have someone look into my open womb, and say beyond a shadow of a doubt that my womb was not well.
Before pregnancy, I had never thought much about the state of my womb. Afterward, I connected with my womb in a way more personal than ever before. It wasn't about sex or periods or cramps. My uterus had been through trauma and I could sense the imbalance this had caused within me.
The next move according to my gynecologist was to get on birth control. Logically, I decided that the best contraceptive for me would be the copper IUD. My history with anxiety and depression makes me wary of drugs that mess with hormone levels. But when the day came to have the IUD inserted, I found myself calling the doctor's office to cancel.
"Does that effect if I want to get it put in another time?"
"It doesn't effect anything, honey. Call back when you're ready." The receptionist replied easily as if I were far from the first to run scared.
I read up on other women's IUD experiences. There would be pain. There would be excessive bleeding for unknown amounts of time. I could feel my uterus recoiling. I could feel her calling out "No more pain, please!" I realized that all my life, I had never taken a moment to get to know and love my womb. In our society, women are conditioned to be ashamed, disgusted, and estranged from our female bodies. And while I had been spending years trying to demystify my mental health, I had spent no time listening to the needs and concerns of my womb.
My first step was to order Sacred Woman by Queen Afua. There I learned that my womb had its own memory and as women, our wombs are our spiritual centers and where we hold our pain and trauma as well as our joys, sexuality, and creativity. Western medicine has not been kind to women’s bodies, especially for Black women. My pregnancy experience gave me insight into the cold and unfeeling approach that doctors often take towards the female body. It comes as no surprise that Black women are experiencing fibroids and unnecessary hysterectomies (removing the uterus) at alarming rates. I wanted to reclaim my body. I knew that if I put intention behind caring for my womb, and healing the ailments and scars within, I could heal myself. It would take making changes I’d been putting off - making a firm shift towards vegetarian/ vegan diet, eating to live, using new herbal teas like Raspberry Leaf and Dandelion Root to soothe my womb, and becoming more strict about my self-care rituals of journaling and meditation. As soon as I started communicating with my womb, both through thought and journaling, I was surprised about how much she had to say. My whole life I had been missing this connection, so integral to harnessing my feminine essence and power. Now I’m committed to never losing this connection again.
I can still feel the ache of my C-section scar every now and then. I take it as a gentle reminder that I’m on a healing journey. It’s no surprise to me that after creating a baby from scratch, my body might need a little extra love and tender care. I’m a work in progress, but I’m healing every day by tapping into a new level of authentic divine feminine energy.
