It Didn't Happen Like I Expected

It didn't happen when we first met. There were no heavenly choirs of angels singing. No tears. I was just happy to have given birth and be done with that part of my life. I was also pumped up on drugs after being in labor all day only to have been pumped full of more drugs when we resorted to a c-section that night. I'd feel that spark later, I thought.

It didn't come the next day either. Nurses had thrust my squirming son into my arms once every three hours for feeding. I wasn't very good at it and needed help frequently. I only felt frustration and exhaustion when nurses responded to the call to take him to the nursery. I hoped they weren't shaking their heads and calling children's services because I didn't want the baby in the room with me after feeding was done.

It didn't happen when we came home from the hospital either. I just felt terror. My husband and I had this baby now. No nurses. We were on our own. Everything I ever read beforehand went out of my head. My son did not follow any rules.

I was afraid I had made a mistake and was not mother material. I was embarrassed: family and friends gushed over how beautiful he was, how I must be so excited, so in love. I looked away and nodded. I said what I was expected to say.

Then one evening, I sat with him laying in my lap. Exhausted, I turned on a children's radio station on my computer, and sang along with the ones I remembered from my own childhood, hoping to quiet my fussy son.

That's when it happened. He looked at me, focusing his eyes as if seeing me for the first time. He smiled and made a soft coo. I found myself smiling back. He had me. I was in love. It didn't happen like I thought it was supposed to, but that's okay. It happened in our own time. And I have a feeling it will only grow as we get to know each other better.