Motherhood Unshielded or Unshielded Motherhood?
The truth is, I did not love my daughter the moment I first saw her. Shockingly brutal statement? Perhaps. But it’s my truth.
You know when everyone around tells you – as an expectant Mother – how much you will fall in love with your baby THE MINUTE you see them and hold them in your arms? What a load of bollocks. For me anyway, because it didn’t felt like that. Even worse, I felt nothing.
Motherhood did not came easy or naturally for me and the whole world made me feel less of a Mum because of it. For that reason, I carry that burden with me until today, nearly 11 years after my baby girl was born.
Diana was born via cesarean on the 20th December 2008. It felt like an Autumn day. The sun was shining, the weather was a bit crispy and it was weirdly warm.
I had been for a couple of hours at one of my best friend’s house when my water broke. Hollywood has taught me that once you go into labour and your water break, you can expect something like the great flood. Total L.I.E. I genuinely thought I had peed myself on her sofa and after a lot of debate about why would I be peeing myself in instalments, we realised “oops, I guess I’m in labour”.
Diana was born was 6:31pm that day. I won’t bore you with the details of the birth, but I wasn’t able to hold her because my arms were wrapped against the operation table. They did, however, placed her left cheek against mine and I felt the softest touch I have ever felt. Her skin was like velvet. Super cool feeling and that was my highlight with regards to giving birth.
My maternal protective instinct kicked in and I fed her and took care of her and played with her, bathe her… Everything I was expected to do, I did.
But love? No. No signs of that, and a few days after becoming a Mum, I began to feel really unfit because of it.
On New Year’s Eve, at midnight, I called my brother. He was at a party not too far from my house and instead of saying “Happy New Year!” I begged him to come over and take me to a pharmacy because I needed formula to feed the baby.
Diana wouldn’t stop crying. She was hungry, unsettled and I could feel she wasn’t getting enough nutrients from me. My partner refused to take me, saying it was all in my head and that I should stop crying and start feeding the baby, instead.
Thank Goodness, I have have the best brother in the world who would do anything for me and his niece and thankfully, he wasn’t drinking that night. He left the party and his friends and we started our quest of finding an open pharmacy at around 00:30, 1st of January 2009.
We got the formula and in the following morning I stopped breastfeeding as my milk completely ran dry. She was now settled and drank way more than what the directions instructed.
“She must’ve been starving” I thought. Another nail in the coffin for me. “I’m a shit parent. Any good Mother would know their baby is hungry and had done something sooner. But no. Not me.”
Around this time, things started to get worse at home and my depression settling in even more. I talked to no one about it. I was ashamed and I thought no one would ever understand how I felt.
“Post-Partum what?”. This wasn’t something it was talked about as commonly as it is now and I didn’t know what was happening to me.
I felt unfit for the job that should’ve been the most natural thing I would ever do in my life.
My love for my daughter came daily. As I started to get to know her, as she started smiling and laughing and as I settled in as a new Mum.
I remember the exact day I felt like a Mother for the first time. 12th July 2009. It was my birthday and my family came to see me. They brought me a cake and sang happy birthday. When I went to put Diana to bed, I was cuddling her (she would never fall asleep on her own) in my arms whilst waiting for her to fall asleep, when she did something that shifted the whole paradigm.
Diana placed her head on my chest and cuddled up to me. It’s how she did it that changed everything. She was comfortable, and relaxed and snuggling to me. She loved ME. Trusted ME. Was comfy with ME. And I felt comfy with her.
In that moment, that little fraction of time, I felt what I can only describe as an explosion in my heart. Like my heart was covered in rock and all of a sudden, it started beating again.
I felt like a mother and I only fell truly in love with my daughter nearly 8 months after she was born.
I haven’t stopped loving her since. Everyday, a little bit more. And it’s SCARY.
Today, I saw an Instagram post from a famous actress who had a baby a few days ago. She too describes “the unconditional, immediate” love she felt for her baby.
Straight away, my doubts and feelings of being unfit, all came back to the surface. This is the type of shit that stays with you forever.
I thought “damn… There was no Instagram back then and I felt so alienated and alone in my feelings. I wonder how a new Mum, that maybe feels like I did, will feel reading this?”
The answer is:
You are your own person. We are all different. We process things differently and we feel things differently. I know I am a great Mum. My daughter always comes first and I love her more than anything in the world. But… It took time.
She still can’t fall asleep on her own and every night before bed, we talk. She tells me everything, she asks me anything. We read books, we pray. We spend quality time together and she tells me everyday how much she loves me and that she loves I’m her Mum.
She sometimes tells me “you’re doing a great job”, even without me asking.
The other day she said she didn’t want anything for her birthday because all she wanted was my heart and she has that already.
Lord Jesus, my heart melted like butter.
You see Mama, what you and I have in common with the millions of other Mums out there is just one thing: we’re all Mamas.
That’s it. Your priority with a newborn or a small child is to keep that kid alive, clothed and fed. And the same goes for you. If you’re alive and fed (you NEED to eat), you’re doing great!
I won’t say clothed because, trust me, spending 2 weeks in the same pjs is totally acceptable. I know, because I’ve done it. Having to wait for a kind soul to come and visit so you can have a few minutes to have a shower it’s totally a thing. Zero shame.
We don’t have access to an array of staff to help us manage everything, so we just need to focus on what’s achievable and realistic for us.
There isn’t a rule book on how you should feel as a parent. So if you’re struggling, reach out to someone. A trusted friend or a family member.
You might be surprised to learn how many women out there feel the same as we do.
