Why British women want C-sections

I followed all the natural-birth instructions. As my due date ticked past I did the meditations, bounced on the balls, and drank mugfuls of raspberry-leaf tea. None of it worked, and in the end her arrival could not have been less crunchy. All the things I didn’t want to happen happened, one after another. I’ll spare you the gory details but I spent a week afterward, nil by mouth following complications, wondering if either of…