When my kids (ages 3 and 5) ask about their births, they hear the story of how I met them. There's a little in there about the mechanics - DS was a vaginal birth, DD was a c/s ("we were worried because Mommy was sick, and the doctors thought you might get hurt inside me, so I had an operation to help you be born") - true, if vague on the details in both cases. Mostly, they want to hear about themselves, so the stories are largely stories about babies. We spend a lot of time talking about precious tiny fingers and toes, and very little time talking about the process.
Human birth is a weird little evolutionary hiccup that doesn't always go so well. We have large brains and proportionally small pelvises, and sometimes vaginal birth does not work out, but it's hard to say, because of that, that our bodies "fail" when we can't give birth vaginally. The same arrangement that makes birth difficult makes it possible for us to walk and think. My body didn't "fail", it just doesn't perform equally well in all of its disparate functions.
I have a perfectly good body, functionally speaking - I can run half a marathon and carry a kiddo on each hip. I have a perfectly good brain - I can read two languages and argue on the internet. Birth has not gone particularly well for me - the descriptions for the children are incredibly vague, and a c-section would have been a mercy that first time out. What happened to me was random lousy luck, of the kind that can hit anyone, and does hit thousands of women every day.
In some defense of my body's (or anybody's) unspectacular history with birthing, it's not really possible to *practice* giving birth. I couldn't run 13.1 miles the first time I went for a jog, and I didn't expect to. I had a lot of help learning French. I couldn't just get out of bed one day after never lifting more then five pounds ever and indulge a 45 lb. kid by carrying him to the bathroom so his feet won't get cold. I worked up to all that. As opposed to birthing, when we all pretty much have to start from somewhere short of zero, with pre-strained ab muscles and limited lung volume, to attempt to do something really difficult that there are very few ways anyone could possibly help us with (and, for bonus points, the kids can't help us out the way they can with heavy lifting when they're older).
Were my daughter to get hit by random lousy luck, and give birth to her children surgically, I would not want to have suggested that this is the same thing as failure.