By MICHELLE RYPER
As all first time mums to be, I had a lovely vision for my labour. I had read, read and read some more, attended my hospital classes and completed a HypnoBirthing class. I was actually looking forward to it all.
And then reality struck. Yes, I had birthed a little baby boy but when he made his entrance into this world, he forgot to breathe.
What followed was him being rushed out of the room 30 seconds after he had been born and given oxygen.
I was then given the chance to hold a pile of blankets that contained my baby before he was hurried off to the Special Care Nursery for monitoring.
There was no skin to skin contact, no letting my soft and creamy bub self-attach and nurse for the first time, no tears of happiness and scarily for me, no overwhelming feeling of love. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I had been thinking of this moment for nine months and it wasn’t happening how I thought it would.
Finally, I got to see him properly after a shower and a rest. He looked nice enough. He was healthy and content, everything a newborn should be but I kept searching my body for this newfound love and I couldn’t find it and I was devastated. I didn’t say a word. I replied to texts and Facebook messages – “Yes, it’s amazing, overwhelming but incredible, he’s perfect, blah, blah, blah”. I didn’t mean any of it or at least I didn’t think I did. I was struggling to put a finger on what I was feeling.