• July 23, 2015 at 3:18 pm #2107

    I’ll start off by saying I’ve struggled to start ‘my story’, as I feel its not a story as such, more of a one-liner:

    I’m happy with my one.

    He is hilarious, beautiful, clever, challenging and hard work to name a few…

    I met my husband late (ish), age 30. Married late (ish) at 35 and had our son late (ish) at 37. I didn’t struggle to conceive, like we thought we might. In fact hubbster so much as sniffed me and there it was – the bun in the proverbial oven. So, it all happened a bit quick after getting married, but that was ok, as we were no spring chickens, lets face it.

    I always thought I’d just LOVE being pregnant. I was very maternal. I’d feel like a real Earth Mother. I didn’t. I’m not sure why but I didn’t enjoy it as I had imagined. It wasn’t anything in particular, the pregnancy itself was smooth, textbook even. Right until the end when the due date came and passed, and we were 10 days overdue. We had the routine scan, preparing for the news that I’d have to be induced. But – no – the little monkey was breech (bum downwards) so I was informed at 3pm on the Monday afternoon that I would be having a Caesarean Section around 9pm that evening.

    It all went as planned, though the emotional experience was awful. I had a spinal injection and as soon as it took effect my brain told me to get up and run away, and anxiety kicked in – full on panic attack. Luckily the lovely anaesthetist kept me calm (er) and our little man appeared without hitch.

    However I felt a bit spun out and detached, even when my husband placed the wee crying bundle on my shoulder/chest. 24 hours after giving birth, I got out of the hospital bed, insisted they take out the catheter, and inched slowly to the shower room down the hall to wash myself. I just wanted to be ‘back to normal’ as quickly as I could. No one said, you need to give yourself time to recover, to adjust…

    The detached feeling stayed with me for quite a while. I struggled with breastfeeding – again, something I thought would just ‘happen naturally’ – and couldn’t sit still for the 6 weeks post-section that they tell you to! As I was self employed, I couldn’t take much time off, and was back at work when he was 12 weeks old.
    That said, it was only part time, and even though I now do 4 days instead of 2, I think I’m incredibly lucky to have flexible working and the opportunity to spend several days a week just ‘mummy and boy’.
    I can’t say exactly when ‘the bond’ happened, or when the detached feeling disappeared, but I do know that I love my amazing little person more than anything, and all I want is for him to flourish in every way.

    The question of ‘number 2′ was asked practically before I was even out of theatre (what’s with that!?) and all I could answer was ‘no – ask me again in a year or two’. Then in a year or two, all I could think or feel was ‘I’m happy with the one I have and I don’t think I want another one’… ask me again when the toddler years are over.. and now we are heading to year number 4, all I can think is ‘I’m happy with the one I have’.

    Why should I feel awkward or guilty or wrong about that?

    I want to be the best mummy I can, and, for me, that means sticking to being a MOO :)

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