It doesn’t make you a bad mother.
I distinctly remember the lead up to the birth of my son. I’d seen the moment on movies, read about experiences from other mums. I was ready to be wrapped in love for my new little person and bond with my child instantly.
Except, it just didn’t happen.
It started when my birth plan went out the window. My son couldn’t have cared less if I wanted to bring him into the world surrounded by singing whales and incense. Rather, the only way he was getting out was via a c-section, which I really didn’t want. I had no choice. Before he was born I already felt like I had failed.
The first time I held him in the recovery ward I kept waiting for the wave of emotion to wash over me. The euphoric, all encompassing adoration that I’d heard all about. Except, it didn’t. The look in my husband’s eyes told me that he was feeling the exact way that I wanted to feel. So I pretended to feel the same.