The First Time I Saw Him

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The first time I saw my newborn

I felt nothing

I asked for him to be taken away

I said I’d deal with it in the morning

No, I am not kidding

Yes, this is the child I now write about like I would die if I did not think about him every nano- second of every single day, with every breath that I take.

You see, there is that myth. That most damaging of myths in my mind. That myth that the minute you lay eyes on your new born you are in love. You know most of what I have read, suggests that most new mothers do not experience this. I didn’t. Not with my first. Not for weeks, and weeks. Oh I felt the need to care and nurture because that is in my nature, give me a baby anything and I will coo and cluck and bend over backwards to ensure its safety and nurturing requirements are met. But I felt nothing beyond that. So much so the post natal depression unit were on my doorstep and I was being monitored closely as I was ‘high risk’ which I already knew I probably would be. I have the personality type that is most likely to suffer with Post Natal Depression. I felt myself sliding and when I mentioned those words – ‘I am starting to resent him’, that was the ‘code’ they needed to start watching me.

Part of this lack of bonding was due to having a traumatic birth experience – or so I am told. I won’t go into that now because for the longest time I did not realise it was traumatic. I got a healthy baby out of it. Isn’t that what matters?

Thankfully I did not hit the bottom. I guess because of my profession I was able to see what was happening and I put steps in place to deal with it. I set goals; I self-coached myself daily, kept a journal and used a solution-focused approach to manage myself. When my husband would come home I would drive to the nearby shops for some time out.

 

Because I had a C-section I was not supposed to drive. These shops were two minutes up the road so it was OK for me. I’d walk the isle of Woolworths doing the shopping, breathing, trying not to loath myself. Trying to stop the voice saying ‘what the fuck have you done, you have ruined your life, and you cannot get out of this one’. Or perhaps the one where I thought ‘how bad would it look for me as a mother to leave her child with her husband, I would go overseas so I would not have to deal with the hatred the world would throw at me, I’d make a new life and it will be OK’. I liked that one best. The moving overseas to start a new life. See even back then it was on the cards.

That groundhog day of newborn life is torture. Feed, cry, change, sleep, feed, cry, change, sleep. That oldie that my well meaning husband used to chide – sleep while baby sleeps so you are rested. No. Just. No. I tried it. It meant I had no break from this child I felt nothing for. No break. You sleep, then you wake when baby wakes and it feels like you have not had a break. At all. It is torture.

I felt disgusting. I felt trapped. I felt self-loathing on a grandiose scale. I cried nonstop. I am not exaggerating. I cried All. The. Time. The hormones, OMG, if it isn’t bad enough your body is totally wrecked physically and has to take time to recover, your hormones are having a party and mess with your head all the while you are trying to navigate a new life with a new born who you do not understand, who needs 3 hourly feeds. I’d be on the phone to anyone who would sit and listen without judgement, and just cry.

Then one day it happened. At about five weeks I think it was. One day I looked at my child and I could not stop staring. I started to sob and I could not stop. It was because I felt so disgusted at myself. So sorry that I had put this child through this agony. The agony of hugs without meaning, soft words of reassurance that were empty. Suddenly it hit me. Suddenly I felt it. Suddenly it appeared. The love I felt for this child hit me sideways. Unexpected, but welcomed.

From that moment I have not stopped staring at my child

 

Running my hands down his face, through his hair, holding his hand, watching him sleep, watching him breath, snuggling him so tight like my life depends on it – because it does.

This love is primal. Its depth is unknown and there are no human words that can describe it. There is no image that can capture it. There is no sound to sing it.

It just is

I have written this for Friday Reflections. The prompt was to write about the first time you saw your newborn.
I am an honest person and I don't like to sugar coat things so I am always very honest in what I write (minus the swearing cos I just prefer to speak the rude words rather than write them). If you read this post and feel any of the feelings I describe please I beg, seek help. Speak to your partner, speak to your Health Nurse, your Doctor. Do not feel you are alone - you aren't and there is help and support for you.

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