You made me a mother. Not the way I wished for. Not the way I expected. But that’s one of the things you need to let go of the first as a mother – expectations.
I thought you’d come to this world peacefully and naturally. Instead, after almost a week of contractions, oxytocin and epidural that I never wanted you to experience, you came out through my belly. With the help of doctors and a scalpel.
I didn’t hear you cry for the first time. There was no skin to skin contact, no latch on my boob to get your first colostrum. There was fog and no emotions. There was a threat of you having to be moved to another hospital because of respiratory problems. And still no emotions. There was me, holding you for the first time after 6 hours since you exited my body. But I still didn’t feel any of those emotions you should feel as you become a mother. Just fear of dropping you, failing you again, fear of already not being the mother I wanted to be for you.
Then the hormones came. The milk came. The raw emotions and so many tears. I couldn’t stop them, they all had to get out. But there have been so many of them that even now, almost half a year after, I’m still crying when I think about those first few hours and days. About the love I didn’t feel and about you lying all alone in the incubator instead of in my arms.
You made me a mother in the most painful way I could imagine – by not feeling like one. And I know that for the rest of my life I’ll always try to give you the extra love to compensate for those hours that I didn’t feel like your mother yet.
I love you Zoe, more than I could have ever imagine I’m capable of loving. I love you and I’ll forever be grateful for being your mother, mother of the most amazing baby in the world.