After waiting for nearly 10 months to finally hold my baby in my arms, I expected to feel some kind of eternal love for her, some type of inexplicable connection to her. I expected to adore this little creature that I had been hosting within me for so many months and praying for her successful birth.
I felt none of this.
Following my labor, I felt elated to have crossed that hurdle of no longer being pregnant. I was exhausted and my whole body ached. Despite this, I knew that I had to do my best to ensure her continued survival now that she was out of the womb.
I remember people coming over to visit and talking about how cute she was. I didn't see anything cute about her, alien maybe, but not cute. When family members took photos of her to share with people who were out of town, I remember feeling truly embarrassed for them to be sharing photos of my baby who simply did not look that great to me. I didn't even feel like she was mine, I felt like she could easily have been the baby of any of my friends who had recently delivered. She certainly looked like any other newborn out there.
In trying to search for words to explain how I felt about her in the first couple of weeks, the only thing I can say is that it was biological instinct. There were no emotions involved. I just knew that I had to work to ensure that she was fed, kept warm and comforted. I worked mechanically and instinctively to do that. I'm not quite sure why I felt that way, maybe I felt the need to ensure her safety first before allowing emotions to get in the way. I did not feel comfortable admitting these feelings of un-love to anyone.
It was only after 2 weeks that the feelings of love started to come in. The rush of going through the labor and the shock of having a newborn in my arms started to sink in and settle in to a level of comfort in which I could allow for emotions of love to make their way in. It was only once those feelings of love came that I admitted to my husband that I initially felt no love. I felt safe admitting to it once the love started to flow. Maybe I had initially feared that those feelings would never come and that I would surely be considered a horrible mother if I felt no love for my child.
The love that I feel continues to flow in with each passing day and even when I think that I can't possibly love her more than I already do, these feelings just continue to develop and flourish as she continues to grow and expresses her personality. The love just continues to wash over me daily, consistently, continuously and undeniably.
