Loving Sam

I'm not one of those women who instantly bonds with her babies. Essentially, I feel like I am bringing a stranger home with me. Oh don't get me wrong. I love them from the start, just not that much. (I know. Not nice, but it's the truth.)

Last time with Ben it wasn't as noticeable, but my love for him grew gradually. This time when I brought Sam home it seemed much worse because I was deeply in love with Ben... And Sam... Not so much. I know! It seems terrible to me too! I'd like to be able to say that from the moment I looked at him my love for him was complete. Overwhelming. Limitless. That's what I expected to feel.

Only I didn't. And oh... The GUILT. Especially this time. Last time I wondered a little why I felt so disconnected from Ben at the beginning, but I just put it down to the fact that he was an emergency c-section. I have read that that can make difference. This time I had to deal with resenting Sam for taking me away from Ben. It really bothered me to have to look after Sam when I'd rather play with Ben. It felt so wrong, but it seemed like I loved Ben more, and that Sam would never catch up. Seriously, the GUILT!

Happily, Sam has gradually been making his own place in my heart. Bit by bit my love is growing, but it seems to me that a mother should love her babies the same right from the start. I phoned my mom and asked her if she loves me more now than she did the moment I was born. Nope. She loves me the same. She's always loved me the same.

I guess I am just wired differently. Or maybe it's the c-sections. Or maybe it was Sam's colic and thrush and screaming. Or maybe it was cause I had a little bit of the baby blues going on. Or maybe it was some of all of it. Whatever the cause it has taken me a while to feel that overwhelming love that feels like maybe my heart will explode with love. I'm finally there though. Finally. I can feel that bond between us that is like no other - that spiritual connection that makes my love for him so strong it's actually painful. And I'm so relieved.


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