Bond, Baby Bond

MOTHERHOOD is like wine…it’s an acquired taste…it grows on you slowly…or at least it did for me!

I had a difficult first pregnancy and a very smooth, easy-going second one. The pregnancies were as different from each other as chalk and cheese….much like how my girls are!

But, the one thing that was common at both times was the excitement and the happy anticipation of what (or who) was about to come. I went through all the emotions that most women go through when they are expecting- happiness, anxiety, hope, exhilaration from being the pampered one in the family, etc.

So, the first time around was more of everything…more emotions, more pampering, more excitement…for obvious reasons. And, after (almost) nine months of all this and more…the D-day was here and our little one was with us!

After a whole evening of “ooh”, “aah” and “what a beautiful baby” comments from family and friends, I was finally with my baby….alone (well, almost alone…my mom was there with me).

I looked at Baby S…and the first thought I had was…’THIS IS IT ! This is what I was waiting for…but…is she supposed to look like this? A frail little wrinkled monkey? A pretty one, no doubt…but still a monkey.’ I waited for the feeling of love and connection and all that to rush and overwhelm me….just like it did for all new mothers.

Nothing !

‘Wait! This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen! Where is that surge of love and emotions and everything that I had read about?’ I thought.

So I looked again….more intently, this time. “Aayegi aayegi…feeling aayegi.” I said to myself.

I hummed all the Hindi movie songs that could come to my mind about mommy-baby bonding.

Mere ghar aayi ek nanhi Pari…

Gudiya Rani, bitiya rani…

Nothing !

And I was convinced that I was the most insensitive mother on the face of this earth…may be it was a wrong decision to have a baby…may be I wasn’t ready for motherhood. I looked at my mother standing there…savouring the moment of (supposed) bonding between her own baby and her baby’s little baby. Little did she know that nothing of that sort was happening. I opened my mouth to say something but then decided against bursting her bubble. But, I was worried…more worried than I had ever been in my entire life….more so because I couldn’t share it with anyone as I was ashamed at being so stone-hearted. I was so guilty that I couldn’t even look at my baby too much.

The stay at the hospital was prolonged because Baby S got jaundice. She was in the nursery and I was in the room. I’d had a c-section, so my movements were slightly limited. Since Baby S was on formula milk, my interaction with her was further reduced. I almost forgot what she looked like. One night at 2 am, we were summoned to the nursery because Baby S was to be fed. This was my first time to the nursery…I was groggy with sleep…hubby dearest led me to the nursery and walked past a few cribs to speak to the doctor. While he walked ahead, I just went and stood near a crib…I don’t know why I stood next to that particular crib. And then I called out to my husband,

“Listen…isn’t this our baby?”

“Yes.” He looked at me with an expression that said- “Are you nuts? What kind of a question is that? Of course that’s our baby!”

And I felt it….I felt that rush of adrenaline…YES !!!! I could recognise her from a pool of cribs with similar looking babies…and that too when I didn’t remember her face too well. I did have a connection with her, after all !

While it still wasn’t all hunky-dory between us, things started getting better from there on… I was more confident, I started to understand her better, I started to accept that it’s okay to not have a ‘love-at-first-sight’ experience with my baby and I stopped feeling guilty about it. As the days passed, my love for her kept growing…till I felt that my heart would burst because it couldn’t contain the love I had for this little piece of my soul.

It’s been almost 11 years now, Baby S is not a baby anymore. She is a beautiful, confident, well-mannered young lady, who is loved by all. But she is loved most by me- her mother, who had once wondered if she would ever be able to love her at all.