One Is Enough.
Six months later the horror has faded and the meeting is what's remembered – and the decision is hers alone, whatever anyone predicts.
A form for a Swiss doctor's office made her reread her own birth records – and the reliving happened without the old fear, with something like a smile. She didn't work at that; six months did it. What faded was the horror; what stayed was the waiting to meet her daughter, a doctor named Katya, a scar like jeweler's work. Wounds close like this on their own, when nobody keeps them open.
Then the post does something rarer: it decides. One child, all her love to Sara, and later a life with her husband – said plainly, with the finances joke where the pathos would be. And when the predictable chorus arrives – you'll change your mind – she doesn't argue; she turns the question around: where do those thoughts come from, and whose desire is this? Surrender & Decision calls a real choice one made with open eyes that answers to no one else's outcome. This is what that looks like in a Telegram post.
One line in passing may be the deepest: all her friends gave birth differently, and it doesn't matter. Every way is a way.
Right now, for a doctor's visit in Switzerland, we were filling out information about Sara and my birth.
I reread it all and relived it all over again. But without that fear this time – with something like a smile. Yes, a caesarean itself is easier than giving birth yourself, but again, it depends on the woman – and what does “easier” even mean? All my girlfriends gave birth differently. And it doesn't matter, C-section or natural.
The operation started at 16:47; at 16:51 they had already lifted her out – that's five minutes – and by 17:30 I was stitched up and moved to intensive care. All together, roughly speaking, an hour. In that moment it felt like I was there a lifetime. And in intensive care I was shaking so hard I was afraid I'd bite my tongue off. That felt eternal too, but in fact it was about five hours.
Everyone says births are forgotten with time. I didn't believe it, but now, six months later, I can agree: the horror isn't remembered so sharply anymore, but the waiting to meet her, the suspense – that is remembered well. The team of doctors is remembered, my wonderful Katya. A doctor by the grace of God. The scar – simply a jeweler's work – will be a reminder always.
And going through it again doesn't scare me as much now, especially after a caesarean: knowing it would be the same and knowing what to expect, it isn't as frightening. What scares me is the spinal anesthesia. I'm still afraid – it felt like my legs would never move again.
A planned C-section is probably much kinder: you know the date, you know what to expect.
My body still feels like it's 80 years old. Even though I exercise every day and walk my 10k steps, I'm still wooden. I've probably recovered 50% in these six months.
Would I have another one? Yes!
But only if the first had been at 20🙈 Right now I'm not ready. I want to give all my attention and love to Sara, and in about seven years I want to enjoy life with my husband. At this stage we don't quite belong to ourselves – and I especially.
I've decided for certain that for me, physically and in some sense emotionally, once is quite enough. Financially I won't even start.
I think this is my last post on the topic of a second child, births and so on.
P.S. I know many will say I might change my mind, time will tell… Here I'd suggest thinking about where such thoughts come from. Are you imposing your desire on me? Why don't you go for it yourselves then? Afraid?
Thank you for reading.
If her words reached somewhere mine don't – good. That's what this blog is for. Take what fits and leave the rest.
– Jan