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.