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I'll be honest: it wasn't sadness I felt after my little man was born, it was apathy.
He is 6 now and I've carried this guilt with me the whole time. I was glad he was out of my body. I wanted to take a deep breath again, to walk normally - to be myself again.
After 3 days of labor, when he was born, I just wanted my space again. As a lifelong introvert, I just wanted the doctors, nurses, family and friends (and yes - even my baby - to go away for a while and let me have some me time.
I didn't try very hard to breastfeed. I was ambivalent when help was offered, too. When given the option for my little man to go to the nursery to sleep or sleep in my room - I chose the nursery. I wheeled him over, knocked on the door and said "I'd like to return this please", thinking I was being pretty funny.
The nurse wasn't amused.
His dad isn't a part of his life. I drove the two of us home, and when we got there, I settled him in and went about doing things around the house that needed to be done. I did try to breastfeed and pump but it was always supplemented by formula.
When I look back, I'm just so sad that his birth wasn't more miraculous to me.
I didn't fall in love when he was handed to me. Why didn't I want to spend every second soaking in his baby feet and fingers? Why wasn't I intrinsically determined to conquer the breastfeeding thing?
It's especially hard to recover those memories now, given that he is my entire world. I don't know when it shifted, certainly within a few months, but I adore this little man more than life itself. So why didn't I feel that way immediately?
Thank you for this outlet to share my story. I've kept it locked away because I feel so much shame associated with it.