Today you are four months old. F-O-U-R. One, two, three, FOUR. It seems as though the time has flown by so quickly. Too quickly.
There is something I've been thinking about lately, and I have been torn as to whether or not I should write it all out. But, I promised you way back when that I was going to give you an honest view into pregnancy and motherhood. Absolutely no sugar coating. Sugar will rot your teeth, anyway.
When you were first born, my immediately feelings centered on loss. Grief, almost. I was so devastated to have you away from me, outside of me, that I could hardly think. The first few hours after your birth were easily the hardest. Add to that your being stuck in observation in the nursery for 8+ hours, and I was a bit of a wreck.
My pregnancy was really very easy (thank you for that, by the way). I was feeling so good, I spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to meet face-to-face for the first time. I had a vision in my head of that one perfect moment. You are in my arms. Our eyes meet. You immediately recognize that I am your Mommy. I feel an instant bond with you - that overwhelming moment of love and affection. I even pictured the moment with some etheral light filtering in through the window. Daddy looking on at his new family.
So it was probably my fault for building it all up, but it just didn't go like that. When they finally brought you to me, I was overwhelmed. Exhausted. Anxious. Feeling this weight of responsibility, all packaged neatly into a 8 lbs. bundle. I did cry, don't get me wrong. And I certainly loved you from the minute you were conceived. But my overwhelming emotion when I first got to hold you? Fear. Is this hospital insane that they are going to let me and Daddy take this baby home? Don't they realize we aren't ready? I'm certain at this point that I am going to break you.
As the days passed, and as we got settled at home, the fear subsided somewhat. But still, that moment was missing. I was wracked with guilt by it. I didn't even talk to Daddy about it at the time. What sort of mother was I? I couldn't seem to get to that place.
After doing much panicked research online, I did find that it is normal for us to take a few weeks to warm up to each other. Honestly, I don't think you were so sure, either. I was there to provide a warm boob, and that's it.
But now. Now I can't imagine being back at that point in our relationship. You have changed me in a very fundamental way, and I will never be the same. It took some time at first, but the change is there. And irreversable.
I put you to bed each night. Daddy gets to spend all day with you, so he lets this be our time alone. You nurse, and come very close to sleep. I put you up on my shoulder, and you sigh and lean into my neck. This is the moment. Just a few minutes where it is just the two of us, and I am overcome. Painfully, excrutiatingly overcome.
The thing is, before, when I pictured the moment, I pictured ONE moment. That the only time I would feel that connection to you would be that first time, and that all other times would somehow dull in comparison. But its not like that at all. Each and every time you get me. Every single day.
I just didn't know it was going to be like this.