When it takes a while to love your child

“You’ll never forget that moment they lay her on your chest. The love you have for her will be greater than any love you’ve ever felt before.”

“As soon as you see her, you won’t remember the pain of labor.”

Erin was born around 7:30 p.m. on February 15th.

I still remember the pain of labor.

I still remember when they laid her on my chest. I remember because I didn’t feel anything. I tried to talk myself into feeling something: This is your daughter, Laura! She’s been growing inside you for 8 months and she’s finally here! Look how beautiful she is!

But I still just felt like Laura.

I didn’t feel like a mom (whatever that’s supposed to feel like).

I knew I would take care of Erin and do everything for her. I was her mother, and I would love her to the death, but it was a resolution and not a feeling.

Erin was a month early and spent her first few days of life in the NICU. I couldn’t visit her in the NICU because I had to stay hooked up to some medications. I thought she might not make it. She was fine. She wasn’t in any real danger, but I knew that if she didn’t make it, I could never give this whole motherhood thing a shot again because that love everyone said I’d have, I didn’t. I had made a mistake in bringing this life into the world, and I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

People kept texting me – texts with way too many exclamation points and smiley faces and too much happiness. Too many people just wanted to know her weight and height. Who the heck cares? My child wasn’t a measurement. She was a living, breathing soul.

I needed some space. I just needed people to wait for me to text them. 

I’ve learned now that the best thing you can do for someone in life-changing moments like motherhood is to

(1) tell them you care,

(2) tell them not to worry about texting/calling back,

(3) leave them alone.

After five days, I got to leave the hospital with our 5 lb. 11 oz. baby. I knew it was a moment as a mom I’d remember forever.

But I still just felt like Laura.

The first month that Erin was here, it was different than I expected. It wasn’t really a bonding experience with me and Nate and baby Erin. It was me and Nate bickering multiple times during the night over whose turn it was to get up to soothe Erin and get her to go back to sleep in her bassinet.

It wasn’t singing lullabies and smiling to her. It was turning the fan on in the bathroom and praying that when you glanced in the mirror her eyes would be drooping.

It was being haunted by the thoughts of people saying “motherhood is hard, but trust me, you wouldn’t change it for the world” and being afraid to think honestly about that statement because in those first few weeks, maybe I would have wished her temporarily away for a few more years.

I took one picture of Erin and me in the hospital. A couple days after she was born I was able to visit her in the NICU. It’s a pathetic picture. My eyes are half closed and I look completely drugged because I had only been off my IVs for a couple hours. When I look at that picture I’m reminded that motherhood isn’t rainbows and butterflies instantly. At least it wasn’t for me. Maybe it is an instant, gushing love for some people, but I honestly doubt it. Looking back on that day I’m filled with happiness and love for Erin. But I’m only ascribing those feelings retrospectively because of how much I love her now and how much happiness she gives me now.

Erin will be three months on Wednesday, and I love that girl with every fiber of my being. But that love grows, and it wasn’t there on day one. I cried on the day I took the pregnancy test, and I cried on the day she was born. But today I cry because she is my greatest joy.

To my friends who are new moms – I feel a close bond to you, even if we’re not that close. And I’ll never look at that first family picture in the delivery room that gets posted to facebook ever the same. 

Now I know that behind that smile there is the smallest, tiniest thought that maybe you made a mistake; maybe motherhood wasn’t for you, or at least, maybe it wasn’t the right time for you.

Three months later, I still just feel like Laura. But I feel a twinge of “mom” as well.

When a new mom has a baby, let’s all give her some space. Let’s say “I love you and your daughter is beautiful.” And just leave it at that. It might take a while for it to be the best moment of her life. And that’s okay.

And to new moms and almost-moms: you don’t have to be so bravely happy so much and so early.