C-Sections Aren't So Bad

 At least mine weren't. And I was 40 and 43. My faith sustained me.

A little backstory first. I married at 39. Being a devout Christian, I felt I had a promise of marriage and kids, so when I met my lovely geologist husband at the Division of Mines and Geology in San Francisco, I didn’t hesitate to, you know, do what you do to make babies. I got married in a $70 creamy off-white dress that you could wear to dinner, which looked great on my size 10 body. However, 2 months later, it was clear I wouldn’t be wearing it for a while.

So I put on the pounds right away. By the ninth month, when a woman sees her gynecologist once a week, I was huge and extremely uncomfortable. I could hardly turn over in bed, which is about when some women grab their doctors’ coat collars and shout, “Get this thing out of me!”

“I’m so biiiig,” I wailed to my doctor.
“No, not really,” he would always reply. “You’re fine.”
“What’s happening down here, that’s going back and forth?”
“That’s the head.”
“The head? Really? What’s this big round thing up here by my ribs?”
“That’s the feet.

One Sunday, about a week and a half before due date, I met my pastor as the service ended. “Wow, Sister, you look like you should be delivering that thing soon.”

“Will you say a prayer for me that I will be doing that soon?” He prayed for me right there on the church steps.

My doctor happily was on vacation for my third weekly visit. The substitute took one look at me and said, “Wow, you’re really big.”
“Thank you!” I exclaimed.

He immediately ordered a sonogram and discovered that Ms. Wiggles was huge, had a big head, and was breach. My gynecologist had convinced me that the baby was a girl, so I had a girl’s name prepared, but my friend was there for the sonogram. At one point, she gasped and put her hand to her mouth. A C-section was scheduled for the next day. And of course, my mom and my friends were there to pray and welcome Mr. Wiggles into the world. With a few adjustments, that girl’s name morphed into a boy’s.

Not only was Christopher a large baby, 10 lbs, 4 oz a week early and breach, but the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck 3 times. There was so much water that the reservoirs overflowed and the surgeon hollered “Man the pumps!”

The other glitch was that I just couldn’t produce enough milk for this little beast. He caused such a fuss that the nurses finally had to let me bottle feed him. He’s not a big man today, but lying in his bassinet in the viewing room caused one viewer to comment, “That kid is ready for a hamburger.”

Chris turned out to be a mellow, bright kid and adult. I don’t even want to think about what I would have gone through if I had waited another week and tried natural birth.

The months flew by and at some point I had a box of used baby clothes. Should I donate it or wait for number 2? One night I had a dream about finding an infant in my lap. “What is this? Are you the little who hasn’t been conceived yet? If you are, I just want you to know how much we’re looking forward to your coming and staying with us.” I lifted the little bundle to my shoulder. It wore a white gown, and unlike Chris, who was almost bald at birth, it had a head full of dark hair. It could just barely lift its head and look around.

After that, I did give away the box of baby clothes. After all, maybe I just had a pizza dream—you know, one of those gastronomical eruptions that fog the brain at night. As it turned out, it wasn’t a pizza dream. Ben came along soon after, happily in time to be delivered before I was 44. He also was huge. One geologist colleague at work informed me that older cows have large calves. “You’re comparing me to an old cow??”
“It is what it is.”

New address, new infant, new gynecologist. The decision was made to not let things get out of hand, so Ben came 3 weeks early and was still 9 lbs, 11 oz. Care was taken to test his lungs to make sure he was ready to meet his destiny in the world. During the operation, the 3 doctors were entertaining themselves with off color stories and remarks. I asked them if they would like to hear my testimony of how I accepted Christ and how He changed my life. Muffled hmms and umms were their response, but when the infant came out, I asked if he had a full head of black hair. When the response was positive, I told them about my dream.

Ben also grew up to be bright, wise, and kind. In both cases, I had a waiting room full of well-wishers. I recovered as well as could be expected for an old lady past her prime. So I’m a fan of C-sections, but I’m also a fan of putting one’s hand in the Hand of the Master. Psalm 139:1-16, NKJV:

O Lord, You have searched me and known me.
² You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
³ You comprehend my path and my lying down,
And are acquainted with all my ways.
⁴ For there is not a word on my tongue,
But behold, O Lord, You know it altogether.
⁵ You have hedged me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
It is high, I cannot attain it.

⁷ Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
⁸ If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
⁹ If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
¹⁰ Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall on me,”
Even the night shall be light about me;
¹² Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
But the night shines as the day;
The darkness and the light are both alike to You.

¹³ For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.

By the way, I never got to wear that creamy off-white dress again.

This story can also be seen at https://medium.com/@janetkatherineapplebysmith/c-sections-arent-so-bad-e7f0163dc61f and at https://theologylighthouse.substack.com/p/c-sections-arent-so-bad.

Check out my website: www.janetksmithpersonal.com. You can read my memoir for free, The Legacy: A Memoir of Personal Guidance and Korean War Sabotage.