Why We Need to Rethink How We Talk About Birth
Recently, I’ve found myself increasingly jaded by celebrations like International Women’s Day. Not because the idea is flawed, but because the execution has become largely performative, loud on social media, quiet in real life. We champion “women supporting women,” yet the everyday acts of kindness, empathy, and solidarity that actually move the needle often feel scarce. If we struggle to support one another in the small things, how do we expect to drive meaningful change on a larger scale?
This was on my mind when I stumbled across a video titled “My Unmedicated Natural Birth.” These videos have floated across my feed before, but this time, something in me paused. Maybe it was my current state of self-inflicted rebellion, but a series of questions immediately surfaced:
- Is there an award for having an unmedicated birth?
- Is there an award for refusing medical options that exist because women before us died without them?
- What exactly makes a birth “natural”?
- Does calling one method “natural” imply that others are “unnatural”?
- When did the focus shift from the most important goal- a healthy baby, to the optics of having a birth that fits someone else’s definition of “normal”?
My Birth Stories: Two Big Babies, Two Very Different Experiences
My first child weighed 11 pounds and 4 ounces (4.1 kg). I delivered him vaginally because I had no idea he was macrosomic (a baby weighing more than 8 pounds 13 ounces). I didn’t have gestational diabetes; all my tests were normal. Maybe I was just growing a linebacker. I suffered a third-degree tear that took a long time to heal.
With my second pregnancy, I did everything “right”, watched my diet, followed all the recommendations. So, imagine my shock when I learned I was carrying another macrosomic baby. This time, my doctor recommended a C-section.
A what?! Surely this was a word from the devil! lol!
I wanted to give birth like the Hebrew women! I insisted I could do it again because I had done it before. But my doctor calmly replied,
“There is no space for the baby to be pushed out vaginally.”
I had a scheduled C-section. My daughter arrived weighing 13 pounds and 5 ounces (6.04 kg), the second-biggest baby born in that hospital at the time. God truly goes bigger! And to my surprise, my recovery was quicker. I honestly felt like I walked out of Walmart with a baby.
So why was I so opposed to having a C-section in the first place?
Because I had internalized the idea that it was a less acceptable way to give birth.
Acceptable to whom?
Acceptable to the society.
A Reality Check We Don’t Talk About Enough
Here’s a reality check: Before the introduction of safe Caesarean sections and modern obstetric care, between 600 and 900 women died for every 100,000 births. That’s a staggering number of mothers who never got the chance to raise the children they delivered.
Medical advances, including the C‑section have saved countless lives. Yet somehow, we’ve created a culture where women feel pressured to prove something through their birth experience.
Why Are We Ranking Birth Methods?
So, before anyone gets defensive, yes, every birth method has pros and cons. But must we attach hierarchy or supremacy to one over another?
This is the crux of my frustration: When we celebrate one method of birth as superior, we quietly undermine the very progress women fought for. We edge the women’s movement backward by reinforcing the idea that there is a “right” way to bring life into the world.
The Only Goal That Truly Matters
Before you judge another woman’s birth story, remember this:
The goal is a healthy baby and a healthy mother. Full stop.
Everything else is noise.
