Birth is so many things.

Magical. Emotional. Incredible. Breathtaking. Joyful. Heartbreaking. Humbling. Overwhelming. Powerful. And always life-changing.

I have had the privilege of attending almost 300 births. Each one special and unique, every time leaving me in awe of how amazing women are.

As a VBAC mom, I am honored to walk this same path with so many women trying to achieve the same thing. Sometimes it is difficult for people to understand just how important this can be for us and how it is so much more than just how we give birth. For a VBAC, the preparation is different. More than just a birth plan or determining comfort measures, these women research providers, join support groups, take VBAC education classes, see chiropractors, do exercises to help with positions – you name it, they’ve done it. Without a doubt, they are a group of educated and prepared women.

We go to painstaking lengths because it is often about healing from our previous birth experience. It was this way for me. A do-over, wishing for the birth I didn’t have the opportunity to have before. Fighting so hard to believe my body was not broken.

We go to painstaking lengths to become educated and prepared and then we wait. And when the cards are dealt and everything lines up perfectly and that VBAC happens – Inspiring. Magical. Empowering.

A Gift. A Miracle.

But, sadly, for whatever reason, there are times when it is not in the cards. And that is what I want to talk about.

Recently I attended a birth where it was a not in the cards. She made every effort. She made every attempt. She prepared perfectly. She did everything right. It was breathtaking to watch her walk to the OR, hand-in-hand with her husband. I stood by her in the OR as she underwent her second Cesarean birth and it changed me. As I saw a single tear roll down her face, I was different. I realized how selfless she was.

Selfless. Brave. Strong. Remarkable.

I watched one of the strongest women I have ever known give birth by C-section. She listened to her self, to the voice inside, and made a really difficult decision. The one that she felt was best for her, her family, and her baby.

She and I had spent many hours talking in the days and hours leading up to this moment. Before we walked to the OR, we spoke about grief. Many times, I do not think we allow the space or time to grieve. To grieve the loss of the birth we had dreamed of, prepared for, and imagined for the last nine months. That moment the dream is lost and no longer a possible reality. We grieve.

And then, as a strong, brave, powerful mother, we dry our tears. We press forward. We put our desires and needs aside. We do what’s best for our baby.

And then I saw it.

In the cold, sterile, bright OR, outstretched on the table. At that moment, watching that single tear roll down her face. Just seconds before hearing her son’s first cry. She let go.

She let go and became a mother again.

It was one of the most powerful births I have ever seen.

Cesarean birth is birth.

Magical. Emotional. Incredible. Breathtaking. Joyful. Heartbreaking. Humbling. Overwhelming. Powerful. And always life-changing.

Our bodies are not broken.

Brave motherhood.

Cesarean strong.