Being bad ass: will I love my child?

An email popped up yesterday.

“Your toddler at 32 months” – I’ll be honest, I count in years and have no idea in months.

Three year ago I was 24 weeks pregnant; I was depressed, scared, anxious, and a mess.

I didn’t ‘bond’ with my bump.  I couldn’t allow myself to for fear something may go wrong.

Kind of like damage control I guess.

I was so worried that I wouldn’t love my baby.  Everyone told me how you love your baby already and how amazing your bump is.

I’m telling you – I felt nothing for my bump.  Absolutely nothing.

I felt him move; and it felt magical.  But it didn’t feel real.  I couldn’t fathom that there was a human growing in my belly.

When you think about it, women are bad ass.  Look at what we can do – we have the ability to grow babies in our bellies and then we are built to give birth to them.

Even as I lay on an operating table being unceremoniously cut open to have my baby removed rather abruptly due to complications at 40 weeks – I still couldn’t imagine there was an actual baby in there.

I felt nothing.

He cried when they pulled him out of me.

“This is it” I thought; “this is where I get that rush of love”.

Nope.  Nothing.  Even when I held him for the first time when he was two hours old I felt nothing.

I was exhausted.  Bruised.  Battered.  Cut.  Stitched up.  I’d lost a lot of blood and I felt horrendous.

All I could think of when I held him was panic.  Someone else could look after him.  He wasn’t my responsibility anymore, he wasn’t in my belly anymore.

After years of hurt, infertility and wanting a baby I felt nothing.

It’s been a bumpy road for the last 32 months.

I’ve been on five different antidepressants.  I’ve tried many therapies.

But do I love him?

He’s cried, I’ve cried.  He’s laughed, I’ve laughed.

But even at my lowest point our bond has been unbreakable.

There are bad times – I didn’t sign up for him to decorate my walls with the contents of a rather nasty nappy.

Yes, I moan a lot.  Yes, he drives me mad.  But he is my world.

It’s such a strange feeling, a mother’s love.

For me it feels like my heart is his – when he is sad my heart hurts yet when he is happy my heart wants to explode.

Even when I feel so low I don’t want to carry on, he is my reason for living.

You may read this as a mum who has been there; and can relate.  You may read this as a mum-to-be who is worried about loving your baby.

Ladies, please don’t worry – you were built for this.  Your love and maternal instinct overrules everything.

You are bad ass.