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When I gaze at the delicate pink line etched at the bottom of my belly, a wave of gratitude washes over me.
By Jamie Carter
As I relaxed in a plush chair at the hair salon, my head leaning back into the sink while the stylist worked lavender shampoo through my hair, she asked, “Do you have something special coming up?” I smiled and gently placed my hand on my round belly, sharing that I was scheduled for a C-section the following day, and that this might be my last indulgent wash and blow dry for a while. The women next to me paused their reading to congratulate me, curious about the baby’s gender (we don’t know yet) and if this was my first child (it’s my fourth).
“Four C-sections? Is that allowed?” one of them asked. I hadn’t realized it was possible either, but after my first child’s birth ended in an emergency C-section, I held onto the story of a friend’s mother who had four of them, hoping to follow suit. As a fourth child myself, I’ve always dreamed of having a big family. “Yes,” I replied, “it’s definitely possible.” Sitting there, I assured the stranger that it could be done, perhaps to reassure myself, to calm my nerves, to vocalize the reality: this is happening. Tomorrow.
Of course, I would have preferred a series of straightforward vaginal deliveries with healthy babies and seamless recoveries. I never intended to be wheeled into an operating room, arms stretched out, chrome lights illuminating a surreal scene (is that my liver?). I had imagined a different scenario for welcoming my children into the world, but parenting has taught me to let go of my preconceived notions. When my first labor ended in a C-section after hours of labor and pushing, the doctor handed my screaming son to a nurse, who then passed him to my husband. While the medical team tended to me, my husband experienced fatherhood for the first time with our newborn. They shared those first precious minutes together; it was tender, unexpected, and miraculous.
C-sections are often viewed as a less desirable birthing option—something overly clinical to be avoided when possible. Yet when I look at that beautiful pink line on my abdomen, I feel only profound gratitude. How many women in my family lineage—or in any lineage—could have cherished their children if they had the chance for this option? How many would have given anything for the sterile operating table I once mourned? Plus, it serves as a fun opportunity to teach my kids new vocabulary. When my three-year-old asks how the baby in my belly will arrive, I show him my scar and introduce the term “scalpel.”
I’ve experienced the uncertainty and chaos of labor, but there is joy in both surprise and planning—saying goodbye to older siblings who are well cared for and arriving at the hospital on schedule. And considering the challenges of being a very pregnant mother of three, I welcome this joy wholeheartedly.
Jamie Carter is based in Raleigh, North Carolina, where she writes and raises her children. Her work has been featured in various publications, including Architectural Digest and Food52. Beyond family, she cherishes the South Carolina coast, a Roger Federer backhand, a Charlottesville lawn, and—most importantly—a well-told story.
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In summary, my journey as a four-time C-section mom is one filled with gratitude and unexpected joys. Each experience, though different from traditional deliveries, has shaped my family’s story in profound ways.