I have been asked at least twice, which is too much, if I struggled to bond with my first born because he was delivered through my tummy and was not breathed out of my nethers in a hyno-cloud of lavender. Is that a real question? Are they real people? How is it legal to ask questions like that?
With my second I achieved the much lauded VBAC (yucky name, no one likes the word vagina. Urgh). I was quite the celeb in the eyes of my lovely consultant, who came to congratulate me after the event. Great for stats. Don’t get me wrong, I did feel a sense of achievement. Equally after 36 hours, copious IV drugs, a cut and some stitches it certainly didn’t feel like a ‘natural’ birth. I was as horrified by the sounds and sights as my pale-faced husband.
So they came out of different exits. Are you asking me to pick a fave because the second one came out of ‘the right’ hole?
My first born is not a changeling; I didn’t open my door and find him there. He was grown in my giant bulging, over-stretched body. I had the chest veins and crusty nips to prove it.
13 days overdue, 24 hour failed induction, waters broken artificially (ouch), 12 hour excruciating labour on the ‘torture drip’. I bloody tried. After 2 futile days, 1 deliriously exhausted mother and 1 monitor beeping erratically the doctors eventually whipped him out’ the sunroof. It wasn’t dignified, calm or serene. I was crying, trying not to be sick and there were at least 6 medical folk in the room. But when they held my screaming baby up over the curtain I was so elated and relieved, I’d have done it again just to see him. I didn’t get to clasp him to my breast on the operating table, apparently the saga wasn’t over. A doctor said in a tense voice ‘could the husband leave the theatre’. My husband was sent out with ‘the baby’. I needed a bit of attention. In the post birth fug (I passed out during the manual stimulation of my womb to bully it into contracting and again at the hand removing internal clots moment) I was still an utterly blissed out and staring in wonder at my new baby boy.
I had been pulled, stretched, sliced and diced to bring forth this chubby baby. I had waited for him for 295 days and I can’t think for a second I would have loved him more if he’d flown out’ the designated exit on the wings of a cherub.
Despite being very yellow and having a comedy lump on his head I still showed him off as the prettiest baby that ever lived and struggled to put him down at all.
I recently watched my little bear be Big Ted in his Reception Christmas show. I wanted to squeeze him, swing him around and shout to the whole school “that’s MY baby”!
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