I didn’t know anyone who didn’t “love” their baby

Love a first sight, something that I assumed was guaranteed.

“You’re going to love that baby as soon as you see him, it’s the most incredible feeling”

Fast forward to birth…

“Paediatric Code Blue, Room 10”… they were the words that rung out across the PA…

Room 10… that’s my room, I thought.

“Elisha, bubby isn’t coping with labour, we need to get him out quickly”

An invisible wall immediately formed. Code blue in my head meant not breathing… I thought he was gone. I unknowingly put that wall up to protect my heart. To protect me from the pain and possibility that I had lost my baby.

Thankfully, despite coming out floppy and requiring resuscitation he was fine. Eventually he was transferred from the crash cart to my chest.

“Here it comes” I thought to myself “I’m about to meet my baby”

Then… nothing. I looked down at him. All fresh and new, a tiny stranger stared back up at me. I remember in that moment, waiting… staring and waiting for the flood of emotion and love everyone told me would come…

Nothing… nothing came. All I had was this numb, empty feeling. Everything that happened after that, felt like going through the motions. Like ticking off things on a to-do list.

Latch and feed, tick! Skin on skin, tick! Weigh and Measure, tick! First outfit, tick! Neither my partner or I dressed him, we were both so numb. Trauma does that to you.

The gorgeous midwives moved around us doing all that needed to be done and when everything “important” was complete he was bundled up and popped in a crib.

My partner and I just sat there, in the silence of that birth suit… staring at each other… we both had nothing to say.

Our son, over by the window… neither of us knew what to do with him and neither of us wanted to hold him. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, now, it makes me sad. What followed was nothing like we’d been told or promised.

There was no baby bubble, no joy and worse than either of those… no love.

He was a complete stranger to me. I had a huge sense of responsibility over him and I knew I had to care for him but I didn’t “love” him. I tried, believe me I did. I would stare at him, take in his tiny features and just try to feel something more. Nothing came.

I would lie, often… “you must be so in love with him” people would say to me. “Yes I am” I would repeat, like a trained parrot. Often I would see more love in their eyes than I would in my own. I think, at that point, I liked the idea of him more than I did in actually having him. Motherhood was hard work, a chore and there was no reward.

“It’s hard but it’s so worth it when you look at them and that overwhelming love takes over” I would hear, this sentiment echoed in social media posts and from well meaning friends and family.

Weeks turned into months, months rolled into the first year and we were still stagnant. The trauma of his arrival was still super raw despite me doing the work with counselling and support networks. It was compounded with a terribly brief BF journey, hospital admissions, allergy diagnosis, kidney issues and a sleep school admission. All within the first year. I was a shell of my former self.

Loving my baby was never something I expected I would need to work on or wait for. I mean, I grew him for 9 and a half months… I was beyond excited for his arrival. I couldn’t wait to be a mum, but this is something I couldn’t have prepared myself for.

No one talks about this, I didn’t know anyone who didn’t “love” their baby. I felt so ashamed and didn’t tell anyone.

I remember the moment… the day and the minute I started to feel it…

It was 2pm on a Wednesday, I laid down with him for his wind down bottle before his second nap of the day. We were watching Kiri & Lou, his little hand found mine and we lay there, hand in hand. He was just shy of 18 months old. I remember staring at his hand in mine and the feeling begun. It was the first time I had a genuine love spark moment.

The love for him was growing and transforming in me. I was finally starting to feel like he was mine, my baby, my son. Over the next six months the shift came, I grew more and more in love with him. I found the joy I had been so desperately seeking. I was laughing freely and just looking at him would make me smile.

He is now just shy of three years old and I can honestly say I am madly in love with him. The love that everyone speaks of, I have that now. Our bond is so strong and I am so incredibly blessed to be his mum, I tell him all the time how much I love him. He is my best friend.

I look back at baby photos of him and I feel it now, the love. I also feel pangs of sadness. Sadness for that little baby, who’s mum struggled to take him in, to soak in all of his newborn-ness. To smell him and feel his tiny breath on my neck as I burped him. I missed out, I didn’t love him, that tiny beautiful little baby. He deserved more and I feel robbed of those months and years. I can’t go back and change it, it is what it is, but it’s made me what I am today. I am a stronger more appreciative mum because of it.

If you’re reading this and you’re feeling lost and wondering why you too aren’t feeling the “love” or enjoying your baby. It’s okay, please know that you’re not alone and it’s normal. It’s something not spoken about but it happens, I know that now. I can’t promise you when it will happen… I can’t tell you where you’ll be or what you’ll be doing when it does. Please mumma, hang on, breath and focus on doing the best you can. You are enough for your baby, you don’t have to love them straight away but you will one day.

- Elisha