Me. My epidural failed (they punctured my dural membrane) and the alternative spinal block didn't work and I could feel them cutting. When I cried out they knocked me out with a GA - my last memories were an anaethetist pressing violently on my throat. It felt like dying. And then it felt like dying when I woke up as I had all the joys of big abdominal surgery without the epidural for pain management. They gave me morphine, but it wasn't great and the first day of my twin daughters' life was spent dry-retching in HDU (not fun after abdominal surgery) whilst everyone else who'd had standard caesareans chatted and cooed over their babies.
It's my absolute devastation that I didn't get to see my babies being born. I had a difficult end to pregnancy and spent the last month of my pregnancy in hospital on bed rest from placenta praevia. I bled badly and so they gave me a section at 35 weeks and obviously I was just one of the unlucky few whose epdidural didn't work. Just my lack of luck and 'my day' if you like.
Whilst I'm unendingly grateful that my babies were born well I'm equally of the view that it doesn't eclipse the day. Of course the most important thing is that they were born healthy but I think it's also important to acknowledge the journey I went through. It was traumatic and devastating and to be told "oh well" and "never mind" as if I'm making a big self indulgent fuss makes me really angry. Perhaps I was foolish to assume that I'd get to see my babies being born but after a month in hospital and hideous, shItty bleeding I held up the moment of their birth as my reward; that in the end, my consultant would lift them out of my stomach and I'd get to see them and find out what sex they were (we didn't find out - I was told as I came round by a midwife) and, if you like, the nightmare of the past month would be over. That was going to be my reward for getting through a month of bleeding and trauma. Maybe foolish but not unreasonable an expectation.
For me it's devastating that I didn't get to see my babies being born. Obviously I'm very lucky that they were born healthy and well but I don't subscribe to the mentality of "Oh you've lost a leg? Well some people have NO Legs.....". Rightly or wrongly you have an expectation of seeing your children come into the world and to miss that can be hugely upsetting. Strangers welcomed my babies into the world. The things that happened to them in theatre (they stopped breathing shortly after birth and had to be rescusitated) were unwitnessed by my husband and I - neither of us were there to care for them or love them. A moot point, as we wouldn't have been able to step in and intubate them, but still. Strangers held my babies first. Strangers found out the sex and kept it to themselves for half an hour whilst my husband paced the corridor outside listening to other babies being born and crying. After forty minutes of waiting he felt sure the babies had died and had to sit, head in hands, working out how he'd tell me that. In the end, all was well, but it was an awful day for me and I'm allowed to say that. Yes, the end result of two healthy babies was wonderful but the journey was awful and I'm allowed to mourn that.
My advice would be to acknowledge it and mourn for it. All that 'buck yourself up, it could be worse' advice is so unhelpful. There seems to be a mentality that by mourning something you're wallowing, when in fact by mourning you're acknowledging and processing. It's how I made my peace with it in the end: Talking it through, writing it all down and also going through my notes with my hospital (through my hospital's patient liaison service). For me, I strongly felt that if someone had debriefed my husband and I the day afterwards about what had happened and why and what happened to our babies in theatre I would have found it much easier. I would have had a picture of that day - not my own, which I'll never have, but a picture all the same. I've learnt that a second-hand version of that day is not what I want but it's just about enough. It's all I'll ever have anyway. I asked my hospital to make sure that if what happened to me ever happens again they make sure that the parents are debriefed about the full events before they leave. I know that would have helped. It's a mental picture of an hugely important moment when you have none.
Sorry for the epic. This strikes a chord with me obviously and I feel quite sad that you've had a few posts that are of the 'get on with it, life could be worse' variety. From personal experience, I know it doesn't help. When you've lost something, whatever it is, you need to mourn it. You need to be allowed to mourn it.
K