I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to stop crying.
I thought I had it all together when I had my daughter. She was my second baby; my son was nearly three at the time of her birth.
She came out of my vagina like a hurricane. After five days of prodromal labour, she was out in an hour.
Samara was born with the cord wrapped around her neck. It was scary, to say the least. My OB-GYN wasn’t even there yet! A resident delivered my baby and I was fairly certain she was going to either have an aneurysm or faint during the process.
“Paging my supervisor, this is Dr. Matthews! I need assistance.”
It was pretty hilarious — in hindsight.
The cord was cut and Samara was placed in my arms. It was an unintentionally natural childbirth: I begged for an epidural, but my girl was too quick. When the nurse handed me my baby, she immediately latched on and began to nurse.
I thought this was a good sign.
When the nurse handed me my baby, she immediately latched on...Image via iStock.
But from the start, I had difficulty getting her to nurse for long periods of time. She would cry and get frustrated during the process of feeding. I was baffled, since my son had been an excellent nurser, and ultimately was breastfed for a year.
I found myself sitting in the hospital bed, crying my eyes out, hoping I could get it together to feed my baby girl. She was beautiful; I wanted to love her.
But there was this nagging voice inside me: What if I can’t love this baby as much as my son? Is there enough love for both of my children?