Raw Drip

It’s been a while since I’ve written a list-oriented entry and with an impending cross-country move I need to keep things, shall we say, concise for the next few weeks.  So, I’ve decided to write about my top 5 mommy truths - life-lessons big and small that the experience of parenting has taught me, thus far.  To start off this week, counting down from #5…

Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t fall head-over-heels in love with your new baby.

Like many expectant women out there I spent endless hours watching Tivo’d episodes of “A Baby Story” on TLC.  This show follows a real-life couple as they bring a new baby into the world.  Each show climaxes with the joyous birth of the baby and is wrapped neatly by a follow-up visit with the new family at home where we learn that things are lovely and amazing.  Frequently, teary-eyed parents will look into the camera, holding baby in their arms, and attest to the instantaneous, deeply meaningful bond or spiritual love connection they established with baby from day one.

So during my ninth month of pregnancy with Adam, this was my dream, wish and expectation.  I’m going to be so in love with this baby… 

For me the love affair didn’t take hold with a sudden surge of maternal instinct or a feeling of heart-bursting happiness.  When Adam was born, I’d been waiting for him all my life but when he suddenly arrived it was a total shock to my system.  I actually resented him for the first few months.  I didn’t like someone needing me so completely. It scared me to death.  What if I screwed up?  Caring for a baby is a biggie.  I mean, my husband’s going to be p-i-s-s-e-d if I accidentally hurt or kill his kid.  Almost worse than being scared of the baby, I hated that everyone expected me to be thrilled and happy to sacrifice my life so completely to this unreasonable, demanding stranger.   

I’m not a mental health professional so I don’t know if what I went through was normal or typical.  I do know that I never wanted to harm Adam and I didn’t think about killing myself so it wasn’t post-partum depression in a child-drowning Texas mom or Brooke Sheilds celebrity-tell-all sort of way.  I just spent a few months being disappointed in myself for not being the mom that I thought everyone (including myself) always expected me to be.  I felt tremendously guilty for not being flooded with feelings of love for my baby; all I felt for him was obligation. 

Thankfully, our relationship did change and eventually we bonded with one another in a deep, flooded-with-feelings-of-love way.  In fact, the bonding continues each day.  And when Adam, now a kid, throws his arms around my neck and says “I wuv you mommy” as he kisses my cheek, there’s nothing, NOTHING, better in this world; it is the highest high you can acheive minus a good class 3 narcotic.  But getting here with Adam wasn’t easy. The person I needed to work with most was me.  Letting go of some guilt, making peace with the inevitable mistakes I’m going to make and most importantly, giving myself permission to stop worrying about absolutely everything was a hard bargain to strike with my perfectionist self.  This is the path no one ever told me I might have to take and it was really hard and it was really lonely and it was, surprisingly, worthwhile. 

But I will never, ever lie to a new mom and tell her that her mothering instincts will immediately kick in and that she’ll be flooded with all-consuming love for her new baby.  It’s great when love comes that easily, but maybe for some of us it’s a little more about the journey and little less about the destination.