Fear for Naught

When the locum doing my delivery informed me that I would probably, ultimately, need a C-section, I had burst into tears.  One of my greatest fears associated with the pitocin-epidural-C-section (so I had read) was a reduction in the quality and immediacy of the "bonding" experience between drugged-up-mommy and newborn baby.  I carried this fear with me, tucked inside the recesses of my mind, throughout the rest of my delivery and into the days and weeks following Baby Loquacious's birth.

Nagging little lies and doubts, the kind that only the devil itself would accuse me with, would sometimes creep into my conscious and give me pause.  To my own detriment, I would sometimes entertain these in my mind, and question the quality of Baby L's bond with me.  What if she regards me as just another person who gives her hugs?  What if she doesn't know that I'm her mommy?  What if she bonds with someone else more than with me?

Well, a week ago any fear that I had about Baby L not bonding properly with me was put to rest, as I looked at her snot and tear-stained face before she buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed.

Last Monday, when I attended a Zumba class with my sis and Hubbs worked late, my in-laws volunteered to watch Baby L for just a couple of hours in the evening.  After kissing my girl good-bye and promising that I would return home soon, I slipped out the door and was away for a full two hours.

When I returned, I opened the door to be greeted by the gut-wrenching, desperate shrieking cries of my darling daughter, a sound I had never heard up until this point.  She was being held and rocked by my mother-in-law but was refusing to be comforted.  I asked what had happened (and simultaneously dropped everything to go and retrieve her), and was told that after being happy for most of the evening, Baby L suddenly noticed that her parents (in particular her mommy) were conspicuously absent, and went ballistic.  My MIL had tried her best to distract and entertain but Baby L was not to be consoled.

The moment I came near to my MIL, Baby L extended her arms toward me in a desperate reach for her momma.  Never had she clung so hard to me as she did when I took her into my arms.  Her little face was wet and red and covered in tears and snot, and her eyes were so swollen from crying that they were narrow slits.  Immediately the sobbing changed from one of anxiety and anguish to one of relief, and as she nestled her face into the space where my neck meets my shoulder, I wrapped my arms tight around her body, which was still heaving from her cries.

I didn't wait for more explanation, nor did I bother with any further chit-chat.  As comforting words were whispered into her ear, I rushed her to the privacy of our bedroom so that I could comfort her with my breast.  It took her quite a few minutes to calm down, and all the while, as I stroked her cheek and patted her back and held her close, I thought about my big ol' fear that she wouldn't bond with me because I hadn't pushed her out of my womb the old-fashioned way.

In hindsight, how naive and silly were my fears! Of course my little girl would bond with me!  I love her, and I nurse her, and I lavish my attention on her day and night.  I am there when she wakes up, and I am there when she goes to sleep.  My familiar scent envelopes her and brings her comfort, and my breasts provide her with her favourite custom-made beverage in the entire world.  She is forever covered in my kisses and her ears are filled with the sounds of my voice as I sing to her and coo out loving words to her heart.

She is my daughter.  I am her mommy.  And we are bonded in a way that is uniquely ours, and designed by God the Creator.

And so my fears are vanquished.  In fact, they were for naught.  And now the delightful truth of our reality extinguishes any doubts that were in my mind.  The devil has lost its foothold in my heart, and I will fear no more. 

Arrgh! Where's my mommy? I'm a pirate!