Diggers and Dinosaurs

ITM was born at 02.11 on Saturday 21st January 2017. And I guess that is the time I became a mother. The only thing was, I didn't feel like a mother. Not for several weeks later.

Everyone always said that the moment I held this tiny little gunk covered being, I would instantly have that wonderful rush of love. But I had been awake since five AM the day before, and needless to say, I was exhausted. So when my wonderful midwife handed me this tiny, wriggly baby, I was pretty overwhelmed. And relieved. Relieved that the pain had stopped, relieved he was okay, and relieved that I could now go to sleep. Oh, how naïve I was.

I am the sort of person that hates to inconvenience others. Especially people who are already so busy—such as my midwife. So when she offered to change the bedding of the bed I have just spilled 1/2 litre of blood on for clean bedding, I declined and allowed her to strip the bedding, leaving the cold, barren blue profiling bed I had just given birth on. And when she offered to send the housekeeper in to clean up the blood in the bathroom, I also declined and 20 minutes after pushing out my 7.32lb baby. I cleaned up the blood myself. And I must say I did a pretty good job.

But all this meant was that I left my equally exhausted husband alone with our son while I cleaned. Meaning that I didn't get the chance to bond with Baby ITM until much later.

Flash forward to six weeks after he was born and I was warming up to the idea of being a mother. I had very rarely felt him kick when I was pregnant, and definitely didn't get those cute little moments when you could see his tiny little toes against my stomach. Instead I got rushing to the bathroom to be sick every hour for nine months. So when my husband returned to work after two weeks, myself and Baby ITM were left. Alone. For 14 hours a day. And it was scary... really scary.

Sure I could do the nappies and make the milk and rock him to sleep, but bonding and entertaining wasn't as easy. I would much rather have sat and flicked through my phone, or watched TV, or slept. So that is what I did. I was so overwhelmed with emotion and fear and lack of energy that I didn't bond with my son.

Yes I wanted to, and I wanted that rushing wave of love to come so badly it hurt. But it never came. What I found instead was that the love between Baby ITM and I was one that grew. It grew every time he smiled at me, or laughed at his daddy's silly faces, or threw pureed peas on the cat. It grew until my heart felt fit to burst.

ITM is now 17 months old, and the love still grows. He giggles at the most random things, he loves being outside and exploring, and he loves the bright colours of soft play. And I am so glad I finally fell in love with him. Motherhood and parenting in general is scary, and noisy, and messy, and so undignified. But it is loving and full of laughter, nose kisses, and sticky faces. And I wouldn't change it for the world.