How becoming a mom turned me into a monster — On postpartum depression and motherly love
I was twenty-five when I got pregnant for the first time. I was thrilled and I thought I was ready: recently married, in love, and I wanted six kids. I was told that my chances of carrying a baby were almost nonexistent because of past gynecological infections, but my body had defied the odds. I was expecting and everything seemed to be going well. As a bonus, my beloved sister-in-law was pregnant too and our kids would be born a month apart. I was on top of the moon.
The ecstatic feeling barely faded when the nausea started and lasted for the next seven months. I felt it was a small price to pay to bring life into this world. I was young, healthy, happy and I thought I would be an amazing mother since I love children.
The pregnancy months went by and finally came the time of birthing my first child. I don’t think I could have asked for a better delivery. The epidural went smoothly and when the nurse asked me to push, I giggled for no reason and my son was born amid laughter and joy.
At first, I didn’t pay attention to the red flags. The doctor presented me with the baby and the words “I don’t want him” came to my lips. The nurse placed him on my chest, and I didn’t feel a thing beside exhaustion. No rush of joy. No instant maternal love. No gratitude for my first born. Just acknowledging that my life had changed and would never be the same.
I knew something was off when they offered to bring my baby’s bassinet close to the bed for the night and I told them I needed to sleep, asking if they could keep him overnight. Or when I ran away from the hospital for a walk by myself barely twenty-four hours after delivery, ridden with anxiety, leaving my newborn inside. I didn’t dare say anything about these strange feelings or absence of feelings. After all everyone was happy. The grandparents could hold the little one for as long as they wished, I never asked for my turn. I held him when needed, checked that he was healthy, then put him down praying he would sleep.
I still remember when came the time to take him home. I was terrified. What would I do with a baby? How could I take care of human being? I was not ready. I would not know how. Of course, my family would help, but I was the mom, and I was supposed to know. I was supposed to have the skills and my love would guide me. Expect for one thing no one was aware of; I didn’t feel this motherly love. I barely liked him. He was a baby, he was cute. But taking him home? Couldn’t I return him after playing for a few hours and be back to normal?
I didn’t tell anyone because I was ashamed and confused. It was time to go home, so I pretended to smile. I took that living human being in my arms like a delicate doll and climbed in the car hoping that things would get better once I was in my environment. But things didn’t change. In fact, they became worse. My body didn’t produce enough milk and I started developing sores. My doctor suggested to use a pump, and here I was turned into a cow. Within a couple weeks, I was exhausted, dirty and after a month my husband came back home to find me crying on the staircase outside of our apartment and our son bawling in his crib most of the days. At least I managed to put him in a safe place before running away.
Forty days after our son was born, my sister-in-law had her baby. She fell in love at the moment she saw him, calling him little words like honey ball, sweetie pie, my life, my love. No one could touch that baby but her. To her, he was her most precious thing that ever breathed on Earth. At the same time, I barely could articulate the name of my son. Noticing that contrast was devastating. Until that point, I thought I was just tired but seeing this mother and son love made me realize the truth: I was a Monster!
I bottled my feelings, pretending everything was okay and crying behind closed doors. I had dreamed of being the mother of six, and in my mind, I was the worst mother ever, incapable of loving even one child. I was keeping him fed and warm, but I was not sure I could stop myself from hurting him when I was exhausted. All I wanted was to run out of the house and was not sure I would always find the strength to come back. I wondered why I was seeing him as a burden when the logical me and every one else could see this adorable, sweet, even easy little boy. Guilt was overwhelming. I felt lost and alone, with an innocent child looking at me, while I was avoiding his gaze.
The little guy ended up winning my heart. He slept through the night by the time he was six weeks, allowing me to rest and get my sanity back. By the time he was six months, he had grown up to be an active, adventurous, smiling, and strong baby. He had to be independent because I was not able to give him one ounce more than I did. Then, one day as he was sitting up, his eyes crossed mine and I was surprised to feel a rush of joy filling up my heart. He held his little arms toward me asking to be picked up and tears came. Tears of relief and gratitude. I didn’t know what had changed but somehow, I had fallen in love with my boy… finally.
Today, this sweet kid has turned into an amazing man and has a child of his own. He is the best father ever. I get to play with my grand baby and give him back. It’s fun and at the same time I have to admit I’m a little bit sad. I wish I could have given all the love I have for my grandson to my first born. I wish someone had told me to rest and get some help. I wish someone had noticed and said something. I wish I had shared my feelings and that I was reassured I was okay. I wish so much but cannot change the way I came to love my son over time.
It took me twenty-eight years to write about this and now I wonder why. Maybe because a part of me really believed I was a monster. But since then, I have talked to many parents and they each have their own story and challenges when it comes to bringing a new life into this world.
So here is my message to you, new parents of the world:
- There is more than one way to love. Maybe you will experience the love at first sight that many describe in the movies and maybe you won’t. And it’s okay. Love doesn’t follow a script.
- You can grow in love with your baby. Love is not a given. It can be developed over time. It will start because of one reason or another and one day you will look at your child wondering how you could doubt your love.
- Growing in love instead of love at first sight is not better or worse. Love is love and that’s all that matters.
- Every birth is different. Every mother-child relationship is different. I ended up having another son and my feelings evolved in a totally different way. Maybe because I was more mature, maybe because of hormonal changes or maybe because of this thing called chemistry that keeps on changing.
- Be kind to yourself and talk about the way you feel. There is a stereotypical way a mother is supposed to feel and I’m here to tell you that this image is not always true. That doesn’t make you a bad mom. Just one who need to grow into motherhood and address her fears.
- Don’t let anybody tell you how you should feel. This is your experience, and nobody knows but you.
- Becoming a parent is a lifetime journey. Do your best and rest assured that if you are not perfect, it’s okay. Parenthood doesn’t come with a manual.
Finally let me tell you one thing couple nuggets I gathered over the years:
- Sex is enjoyable. Pregnancy is a long process. The delivery can be easy. But the twenty years after are a lot of work. It’s a lifelong process, so make sure you are ready for it.
- An adult is a child who survived. If you can maintain your child alive and you provide him with emotional and physical stability, you are ahead of many parents. Be kind to yourself.
- Your kids will feel your love even when you don’t always know how to express it. But please try to express it, it’s so nice to hear I love you. I didn’t hear it often from my parents. I hope I did a little better.
- Just in case, to my sons, if you read this message: I love you. Or as I was telling you when you were kids “Je vous aime jusque dans le ventre de la baleine”.
