When the doctor told her she should look into having a C-section, instead of a vaginal birth, Mopelola cleared her eyes and ears (she’s that kind of drama queen), and absolutely scoffed at the idea.
“My mother had nine children, and she did not give birth to any one of us through C-section! How can you tell me that I should have a Ceaserean section, when I could very well give birth by myself?” was her rant to her poor doctor.
After she finished ranting, her doctor asked her if she wanted to live to see the babies she was carrying, and that if she wanted to do all of those things, she should really consider a C-section.
This was a defining moment for Mopelola. All her life, she had never thought she would ever have a C-section. Whenever she thought about child birth, it was always that she would be do so vaginally, like her mother and her grandmother before her. As far as she could recall, there had never been any C-section in her family. So, it was rather shocking when the doctor suggested one for her.
However, her case was not like her mother, or her grandmother, who birthed twins thrice. The only thing she had in common with them was the fact that they carried the same blood lines, and that she was carrying twins.
Mopelola had two major reasons she was advised not to attempt a vaginal birth; she was hypertensive, and it was only grace, and close monitoring, that had kept her so far to her 25th week of pregnancy; she had also had previously had a fibroid operation, and thus it would be a lot easier, and less risky, if she were to just accept and go ahead with a C-section…but she was not thinking in that direction.Having a vaginal birth was not totally impossible, but it was a high risk business, when there were three lives at stake, and her doctor did not want to take any chances.
Mopelola was still fuming at the doctor’s suggestions, when she got home. She was so wound up by the news, and it was with so much anger that she told her husband about the doctor’s suggestion, and his immediate reaction was everything she did not want.
Although he was no medical practitioner, he worked in a clinic, and had mentioned his wife’s case to at least two consultants, one of whom was the doctor who had performed his wife’s fibroid surgery, and their verdict had been the same; a C-section was a better option for her. And he had dreaded telling her about it, but now that her doctor had pitched it, he joined in cajoling his angry wife to have an open mind to the whole process.
That night, she relocated to their guest room…that was how angry she was with her husband! She called him a man without faith, who preferred to believe a mere doctor, instead of praying that God would grant her a safe vaginal delivery, even with all the odds against her.
Over the cause of the week though, she reconciled with her husband, who only had the gospel of C-section to preach, and he did a good job at it. From emotional blackmail, to outright anger, he pressed all the mumu buttons she had, and it worked! She finally agreed to a C-section.
Her husband practically danced Etighi in his mind, while maintaining a stoic expression on his face, and telling his wife it was the right thing to do. It was settled. Now, which date? Now, that was going too far for Mopelola! “I’m not going to play God with my babies’ birthday” she retorted, as she walked out. Smiling at his drama queen of a wife, her husband went ahead to liaise with the doctor about an appropriate date for their babies’ birth.
Mopelola refused to know the date…only the week. It fell on her husband to mostly prep for the day, only telling her the day before they went to the hospital. While they were going up in the lift to the maternity ward, they shared the lift with a woman, who was in labour and Mopelola was seriously pained watching the woman ahh and oohh her way through every contraction that ripped her, with her hands that held onto the handle bars in the lift, pale with pain.
Then, it started to dawn on her that, perhaps what both her doctor and husband were saving her from was worth it in the end, and then she thought, since she was having twins, then perhaps her labour pain would be double the one she was witnessing. In that lift, for the first time in weeks, she felt that an elective C-section might not be bad after all.
In less than an hour, the show was indeed on the road, and she met her babies. The new grandparents were in the hospital, to see their newest family members and, as is common with twins and other multiples, the news of their birth travelled fast, so there were many visitors who wanted to see the twins; the first in her husband’s family, at least, as far as they could remember.
As for the surgery itself, it went smoothly, even though they had her hooked to some machines, monitoring her blood pressure and other vitals, but everything went well and, although they encountered some more fibroids in her womb, it was nothing of concern, especially as they did not interfere with the growth of the babies.
Since the birth of her babies, seven years ago, Mopelola has become an apostle of the C-section, all because of the ease it gave her. Within a few days, she was home. Although she sore, she made sure to bond with her babies, as much as the two grandmothers would allow her to. All they would allow her do was sleep, eat, and breastfeed the babies. Rest and heal was their only message. She was in motherhood heaven, as the duo pampered her.
As for trying for a vaginal birth next time, she said, “I think I will pass. I’m sticking with the C-section, as it is less risky for my life and means less weeks of being pregnant. More so, the odds are more against me now than before, as I’m older, still on hypertension medication, and have been cut open twice already! It will be better if I just go ahead with another C-section, whenever I get pregnant again. As my husband once said, it is the best decision for my family.”
Whether, it is the best decision for her family, or not, the most important part of the whole story is that Mopelola’s babies came out hale and hearty, and her life was not endangered.
Sometimes, we struggle with the very thing that is good for us, but that’s only human, don’t you think?
Baby dust and more baby dust.
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