Evolution of Love

Dear Claire Bear,

I can honestly say I love you more and more every day. I'm amazed that I can love anything as much as I love you. However, this feeling didn't appear the minute you were born and placed in my arms. Instead it grew day by day, exponentially it seems, and it's still growing with every gummy little smile and curious coo. One day (hopefully, far far from now!) you may decide to have your own children. I hope that you have the perfect 'love at first sight' moment when the doctor hands you your child. However, if you don't, I want you to know that it's normal. No one ever warned me that I might not feel the instant connection and I think that if I had known that what I was feeling was normal I think I would have been able to deal with it and move on much easier. Having you was the best decision your daddy and I have Know that I'm describe in the letter below how I felt at that time, when I was a hormonal, sleep and caffeine deprived, stitched up mess. It's not at all how I feel now and I'd voluntarily go through all of it 10 times over for you.


Before you were born I think I was so caught up in being pregnant and so preoccupied with the birth process that it came as a bit of a shock when they passed you to me, a little screaming, gooey, red faced baby, and told me you were mine. Even though I'd obviously thought about being a mother and looked forward to your birth I was completely unprepared and overwhelmed emotionally by the actuality of having a baby. Don't get me wrong; I'd read all the books to prepare myself. I had your nursery completed and a variety of stimulating toys for you. I stocked up on cloth diapers and all the other baby necessities. I had cleaned and re-cleaned the house. I stocked up the fridge and freezer with easy to cook foods for those days we just didn't get around to cooking dinner (which I foolishly thought would be the less frequent occurrence).


When I thought of the post-labour days, I imagined sitting in the living room with the Christmas tree lit up, staring into your little sleeping face and being overwhelmed with love and adoration. It didn't quite happen that way. When you were born I thought you were adorable but I didn't feel that 'love at first sight' that everyone always talked about. I changed your diapers and fed you and tried to keep you happy but it felt like I was babysitting someones baby. The immediate connection I'd been waiting for wasn't there. I just couldn't relate you to the baby that only the day before had been in my belly kicking and squirming and oddly enough I missed that baby (have you ever heard anything more foolish?). I felt trapped. Every thought I had or action I contemplated couldn't be about me. I couldn't just use the washroom or get a shower without thinking about where you were and if you'd be okay while I was occupied. I know now that it's pretty normal to feel a bit trapped and overwhelmed but at the time I thought I was already a horrible mother.


You were discharged on the 21st of December and your father and I foolishly decided to go about with our Christmas plans as usual. We would take you to dinner at one of our families houses and everyone would coo and exclaim over you and say things like "you must be so happy" or "you're going to be a great mom" and all I could think was it was all a lie. The minute I was alone I would start crying and I would only stop when your father took you and comforted you (he was so amazing with you from the very beginning). I felt so ashamed that I didn't tell your father what I was thinking. I just told him I didn't know why I was crying and that it must be hormones. It also didn't help that your Aunt had a baby just over a year before you were born and she was a natural. She loved being a mother from the first second and two days after giving birth she was up and running about (this was all my hormonal thinking, your Aunt was a huge help to us when we couldn't find the time to walk the dog or cook supper). I kept comparing myself to her and I looked exactly how you would picture someone who wasn't sleeping and had just pushed an 8 pound baby out of her vagina (and possibly broken her tailbone, at least that's how it felt and still feels three months postpartum). Wrecked!


Being sore and sleep deprived wasn't helping. Everyone tells you that sleep is the thing you'll miss most but I don't think it's possible to appreciate it until you actually have a baby. I knew theoretically that I'd be up at least every three hours to feed you but when you consider that feeding takes 40 minutes and you needed your diaper changed there was only about two hours between feedings). I thought I'd be able to handle it well. After all I used to routinely go to work on three or four hours of sleep a night. Apparently the fact that my previous sleep deprivation was voluntary made all the difference. Plus you were a good baby! Other than having your days and nights completely reversed and needing to be held a lot, you were very good tempered. I belong to a wonderful birth group (which I will dedicate an entire post to later) and some of them had colicky babies, some babies had health issues which required surgery or extended hospital visits, and these mothers were amazing. I thought to myself, if these mothers could so gracefully deal with way more stressful times I should be able to cope with one good natured baby!


So the point of all this is that for the first two weeks or so I was a wreck. I felt like my life was out of control and that I was a horrible mother. I cried all the time and I was terrified to be left alone with you. I had nightmares almost every night and I was on the very brink of talking to my doctor about post-partum depression. About a week after you were born I noticed that the day times were getting easier but as night approached I started sinking down again. After about three weeks I noticed that nights were getting a bit easier other than the occasional really bad night. I started getting to know you as a little person that was a part of me and a part of the man I loved and a part that was uniquely Claire Bear. After that things started getting easier. I was getting to know what you liked and disliked and getting more confident that I could care for you.


Your father was a giant help while I was going through this. I don't think he could understand what I was thinking (he has adored you since the second he saw you) but he didn't have to. He still got up with me when I was feeding you. He told me I was doing great and kept me looking forward to the time when I'd be healed up and feeling less like a basket-case. He convinced me that I wasn't actually going crazy (which when you know our family history you will, unfortunately, realize was a slight possibility).


I'm not sure exactly when I realized that I loved you so very much. I think it came in bits and pieces. Lying with you in bed while you grabbed onto my finger, seeing you focus on my face, that first gummy little smile; they all added up. I don't want you to think that I didn't love you from the start. I did. I just needed some time to get used to being a mommy.

Loving you more each day,
Mama