Reflections on birth

I saw a blog post recently about a new mommy in the hospital.  How she felt.  How she cherished and loved this little baby she just suffered to bring into the world.  "Take a picture in the hospital when it's just you and baby, so you can remember how much joy you felt."  Well, that would have been great, except I didn't feel that.

I tried to remember what happened after Dawson was born.  What those first few days were like.  I'm drawing a big fat blank.  All I can remember is the despair I felt, I don't remember specific events well, if at all.  I had done what I never thought I could do- I brought a beautiful baby into the world.  But all I felt was sad.  I wasn't pregnant anymore.  I couldn't feel him kick me anymore.  My fantasy was shattered, this is not how I pictured it.

He was born at 6:46PM on a Saturday night and by the time my parents, sister, and in laws left the hospital it must have been late.  I can't remember, I have no recollection of time.  I attempted to feed Dawson every 3 hours but he was very very hard to rouse.  Joe went to sleep at some point, and I sat and held Dawson for the next 3 hours until his next feeding.  Shell shocked.  In pain, emotionally and physically.   I can't describe any of that first night, or even the next day that I felt any different than that.   I don't remember when people started showing up the next day.  In fact, all I remember about the next day was the nurse wanting me to walk down the hall, and I was so upset because I could barely walk to the bathroom that was literally only feet from my bed.  Joe was doing everything for Dawson, except feeding him, which I seemed to be failing at because he just plain didn't want to wake up for me.  I watched Joe and him bond and I felt this incredible joy for my husband, and sadness for myself.  Why was it coming so easy to him? Why did I feel nothing at all for this baby?

My point in all of this is I think as a first time mother, I had this fantasy that I would want to clutch that baby to me so tight and never put him down, and I didn't feel that.  Dawson and I did not bond right away.  It left me with a huge amount of guilt riding on my shoulders.  It only got worse as I went home and it took literally months for me to bond to him.  I still did everything I needed to do for him, of course, but I just went through the motions.  He was nothing more than a crying mouth to feed and a diaper to change for a few months.  I wish that someone had told me before he came that it's not always instantaneous to feel that intense connection to your baby. It's not always the puppies and rainbows you built up in your head.  All of this certainly didn't cause my postpartum depression, but it contributed heaps and loads to it.  And when I look back, I even want to say it had already begun.

I'm a little scared that this will happen to me again.  That I won't bond with this baby right away, and I will feel disappointed.  Even worse, I'm afraid I won't remember anything again.  I know certain things will be easier this time, but I do have fear that the days after this baby's birth will be the same as Dawson's.  I'm trying to put some actions into place, and seek the support (professional and otherwise) to prevent it, but if there's anything having your first baby can teach you, it's that you can't plan for everything.  You just prepare for the worst, and hope for the best.