I never imagined I would face judgment for choosing to have an epidural. Ironically, it didn’t even work as intended! Let me clarify—I’m all for epidurals! Bring on the relief! As a mother of three, I opted for an epidural with each delivery, not due to weakness, but because I wanted to savor the experience of bringing my children into the world.
Kudos to all the women who have chosen to go without an epidural—great job! However, it was never on my radar to go through labor without one. To me, it boiled down to a simple choice: would I prefer to feel pain or avoid it? No shame in that!
Recently, while recounting my first delivery to a woman, I mentioned that I had gotten an epidural, but it hadn’t worked. Her reply shocked me: “Oh, you had an epidural? So, you don’t know what labor is really like.” She then turned away and began chatting with another mother, leaving me feeling invisible. It was a disheartening moment.
Even before my first contraction, I was adamant about getting an epidural. After a few hours of contractions, the anesthesiologist arrived, but he was rude and rushed. Within minutes, my body began to feel strange—numbness spread through my chest, my lips tingled, and I started shaking. Despite this, I could still feel every contraction in my belly and lower. By the time they acknowledged that the epidural was ineffective, I was already dilated to 10 centimeters and ready to push. I could move my legs and shift positions—definitely not the experience of someone under the effects of an epidural!
I pushed for an exhausting hour and a half, fully aware of the physical toll it was taking on me. I could feel every tear and was pushed to keep going, despite my exhaustion. My husband’s encouragement—“Honey, I see him!”—gave me the strength to push harder.
When my son was finally delivered, the doctor exclaimed, “Oh dear. If we had known he would be this big, we would have opted for a C-section.” He was quickly handed to the NICU nurses for checks. I was informed I was bleeding heavily, and as the doctor began stitching me up, I realized he assumed I was under the effects of an epidural. He gave me a numbing shot but didn’t wait for it to take effect and stitched me up in a hurry. The medical team was alarmed by the situation, but I remained focused on the beautiful baby in my arms.
As I admired my son, I asked the nurse if he was around 8 pounds. She laughed and told me he was actually over 9 pounds. After weighing him, they confirmed he was 9 pounds 14 ounces! The nurses remarked that had they weighed him before he pooped, he might have crossed the 10-pound mark! They checked his head size, which was as large as that of a one-month-old—100th percentile for head circumference. My recovery was brutal; I had so many stitches that sitting was nearly impossible. At my six-week check-up, the doctor noted that I still had stitches that hadn’t dissolved. It took until 10 weeks for everything to heal properly.
So, when that woman said I hadn’t truly experienced labor, I felt furious. My first baby weighed 10 pounds, and I felt every tear. I witnessed the panic in the doctor’s eyes as they realized the size of my baby. I had to ensure he fed every few minutes to keep his blood sugar levels stable, and I dealt with complications that left me with little bladder control for months.
Let’s be clear: no one should belittle another woman’s experience based on their own. Pregnancy, labor, and motherhood are not competitions. Instead of shaming, let’s support one another. I’ve carried three babies for nine months each and have brought them into the world, the smallest being 9 pounds. I’ve nurtured them and watched them grow.
Please, don’t ever dare to shame me as a mother.
For more engaging discussions about motherhood, check out this post on the at-home insemination kit. You can also find valuable insights about pregnancy at Progyny’s blog and understand your baby’s expected arrival at this resource.
In summary, no one should judge another’s labor experience. Each woman’s journey is unique and deserves respect. We should focus on uplifting each other rather than competing or shaming.