Oh Baby!

This is probably the most intimate blog I have posted. Looking at the picture, of me breastfeeding Olive (my youngest) at the hospital, you might well think I was so calm. That I breastfed Olive until she was 2 years old, because it was like second nature to me. You might even think I bonded with her, loved her from first sight. That she was a peaceful and content newborn. So let me tell you how it really was... First, let's go back, nearly 6 years ago, Nelly (my eldest daughter) was born. If you have read my previous blogs, you will also already know that I lost my Mom, Jill, two weeks before Nelly was born. The day she died, I wanted to hold her hand, sit by her side, but I couldn't stay in the room for more than a few seconds at a time. I started to feel contractions, for a moment we thought Nelly was going to born the day I lost Mom. Amit, my husband, whispered in my Mom's ear "Nelly", so she was the first to know what our first baby girl was to be called. And then, she was no longer with us. Nelly decided to arrive when I was 39 weeks. I will save the labor details for another time... She was placed on my inflated belly, after pushing for an hour and a half. I remember looking down at her, and I felt nothing. She looked nothing like me. They took her to be weighed, and when the weight appeared on the scale, for a minute.....it was as if my Mom was in the room. Then of course I started crying. Because she was not. When I arrived home, I remember sitting on the sofa at my Dad's house, I was pale and in shock. I felt I now have a massive weight tied to my legs FOR LIFE. I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I did not love her. I did not think she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I resented her. It was as if I was mourning the life I had, before. The first month after she was born, we stayed at my Dad's, as we were between homes. The nights, my God... the nights. She would scream all night long, and I could not help her, I did not know how to ease her pain. I didn't bond with her. When I held her, she would scream even louder. It was as if she knew... you know what, I am sure she knew.

People said "why don't you talk to her, sing to her?" I was just going through the motions, wishing the time away.

Every afternoon, when the sun used to start to go down, I felt a rush of sadness overcoming my whole being, like falling into a deep black hole. I was so scared of another daunting, sleepless night. The screaming of a newborn baby, the absolute helplessness. My marriage suffered as well, I hated him at the time, for not going through what I was, I hated the fact he could come and go as he pleased, in my eyes he was FREE and I was overcome with bitterness and resentment that would overflow every day, every night. Most days I cried. I was lost... I had a little baby girl, that needed a Mom, that could soothe her, love her. I fought every day against my demons. I would make myself go out, once a day, for a long walk, up to the coffee shop and back, just to feel... HUMAN again. I felt so alone during those first 3 months. But with time' a lot of walks and therapy, I was kinda OK. And when I looked at her, I suddenly felt something. For the first time I smiled at her and I talked to her, when no one else was listening. Fast forward only one and a half years, I had little Olive. Her pregnancy was not planned, as you might have guessed. I was assured by everyone, that the second child is SO much calmer, and sleeps better, so I could not wait to meet her. She was born by a C-section because during Nelly's birth, my pelvic floor was damaged so badly, I was told that no more babies are going down that 'rabbit hole' again. What JOY. I find so many women do not share the fact that our pelvic floor gets so F**** up in childbirth. we can no longer jump carelessly, or sneeze without our legs crossed, as we might pee ourselves. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how many goddam Kegel exercises you do, when a 3+ Kg human comes out from down there, ladies, there is going to be some collateral damage! But hey, it kinda gets better with time, or maybe we just get used to it. I had a set appointment for my opp, all was very straightforward. I laid on the operating table, with my hands spread out to each side, Amit sitting by my head. We were both taken aback by the aggressive tugging of getting the baby out. My God! But sure enough, Olive was born. Followed by a shrieking loud and continuous scream. lifted up by the midwife, over the white sheet that was covering my disheveled body, She stated two facts: First; "she is a big baby! " (indeed she was, weighing almost 4Kg). The second thing she stated was; "you've got yourselves a SCREAMER'. I laughed... Little did I know at the time.

After being stitched up, Daddy went with baby Olive with all the other shocked Daddies, pushing along their newborns in a neat row. I was moved to the recovery room, the anesthetic was fading off, and with my uterus contracting the pain was unbearable. Many rounds of pain killers later, the first dreaded time you stand upright after the opp, the first shower. I was ready to reunite with my little angel. they brought her to my room, she was gorgeous. And, I felt. I felt flutters of love. She was placed on a pillow beside me, to breastfeed. She could not lay across my body, because of the stitches, and the pain. She latched on and fed really well. What a relief! ' A screamer my ass!' i thought to myself. Usually, newborns, in their first days on this planet. SLEEP. They eat and they SLEEP! But no, not Olive. She was up all night on my boob. Or, yes... SCREAMING. Now back at home, learning to be a mom of a toddler and a baby, And after undergoing an operation was overwhelming, to say the least. I hired a lovely British lady called Elaine to look after Nelly every afternoon, so I could recover. Little did I know, she was sent to me by my own Mommy, and today she is both my daughter's Godmother. and at the time my savior. Again the sleepless nights, and days this time. She would not sleep at all. Only scream! God knows how she grew without sleeping. I was broken, again. The black hole was sucking me in, the depression taking my breath away. I was fighting once again. I would sit up, all night with her on my breast. The pain was excruciating. I did not sleep, I was in pain. And I promised myself one thing... "NEVER AGAIN". No more babies for me. I am so traumatized by those nights and saddened days. I never want to feel like that again. But time passes, and you forget. I asked myself, again and again, are you really done having children? It's a primal thing, I think. That feeling that overtakes your commonsense, and tells you to have another one. But I don't want to go back there, I am happy now. I am settled, peaceful, and fulfilled. WHY TAKE THE CHANCE? Is two not enough? For me, it is. So why does the question haunt me? is number three a charm? Will I regret it? maybe I will. But that is not a good enough reason to have another child. Back to the picture, of me breastfeeding Olive. The truth is this, I was in so much pain, after an operation, after not sleeping all night. I was not walking on a cloud from pure joy. I managed to breastfeed for only 2 weeks, and Olive only discovered the pleasure of sleeping when she was 4 months. So, I am a proud mom of two BEAUTIFUL girls. I suffered from extreme sleep deprivation and depression with both. So when you asked me, what about having a BOY? Guess what my answer will be: A bit off F**** & a lot of OFF.

Keep it real. It might just save someone, just by knowing, they are not alone.