Baby Bonding

After Carys was born I was shell shocked. Stressed, tired and more than slightly fed up I was left to my own devices for three hours. Carys was placed in the NICU initially, then moved to the general observation. I was left outside the entrance to NICU as Carys was wheeled through. It was lunchtime so of course the nurses were swapping over. I sat outside the doors for a while, calling my parents, texting friends and trying to comprehend what had just happened to my wife not to mention thinking about my new daughter and how she might be doing. I remember having an enormous knot of tension in my stomach and an awful headache. I decided to do what many sensible people would do, I went for lunch.

A full stomach and many text messages later I was finally allowed in to see Carys. I didn't know what to expect. We're so primed to expect an enormous rush of love and affection. All the movies we see show joyously weeping mothers and fathers united in celebration. All the parenting or pregnancy books I read before the big day spoke of joy, happiness, fulfillment, contentment, and any number of other chipper, loving emotions. I don't remember any of them mentioning negative emotions. When the moment came to finally see my daughter I was excited, tired and nervous. I walked onto the ward, asked where my baby was, took a deep breath and walked in to see her in her little hot pod (incubator, but hot pod sounds so much more fun).

When I saw Carys for the first time I felt nothing. There was no up swell of emotion, I didn't cry. Being the good English boy I am I introduced myself, as my parents had taught me to do. I realise this may sound unbelievable or even heretical to many people, but it's the truth. Before you go stoking the pyres ready for the burning let me explain why I felt the way I did, or at least the best reasons I can come up with now that I've had time to sit and reflect on things.

For nearly nine months my baby was an abstract concept. I couldn't connect with her in the same way my wife did. I think I did as much as I could to bond with Carys. I massaged my wife's belly nearly every night, I felt Carys move, kick and punch. I saw her on the ultrasound and was always, always excited and happy to see her. I read to her from one of my favourite books, Nation by Terry Pratchett, I wanted her to know my voice and hear about a strong, independent young lady. I read about the different stages of pregnancy and how Carys was developing. I liked the comparisons of her developing size to different fruits. Despite knowing she was a blueberry, orange, grapefruit and so on, despite feeling her move about and despite seeing her grow, I just couldn't connect. Pregnancy was a very abstract process for me, and I'm sure it is for many men. The one book written for men that I read repeatedly said it was 'our' pregnancy. The author was just as involved in the pregnancy as his wife. While this is very commendable and new age of him, the word bullshit would always pop into my head whenever I read about 'their' pregnancy. I wasn't the one puking my guts up everyday, I wasn't the one whose back ached or feet killed, I wasn't the one carrying several pounds of extra weight around in front of them. This was Sher's pregnancy. My job was to keep her as happy and comfortable as possible, by keeping Sher comfortable I kept Carys comfortable. My priority was Sher. I couldn't connect with Carys because I spent most of my time worrying about Sher, and ironically, worrying about Carys. Pregnancy was a time of great happiness for us, new experiences and lots of laughs, but for me at least there was always an undercurrent of fear. I could connect with her later, first she had to arrive.

The other reason I couldn't connect was that I was stressed, tired and angry. I had just seen my wife violently cut open, my daughter blue and unresponsive and spent the better part of three hours wondering if my baby was alright. All I had felt for the passed three hours or more was negativity and fear. How could I connect with my baby girl with so much negativity raging inside me? I wanted to love my daughter. I wanted to feel something but it didn't happen. I sat with Carys on my lap for maybe half an hour, until she did a poo. I changed her with the help of a nurse and popped her back in her hot pod. Later on I fed her which was nice. But all the time I was numb and unemotive. I never said anything to my wife. That's not what you do. But I still told the truth, I said Carys was lovely and beautiful and that I was happy, because I was.

Now does all this mean I don't love my daughter? Not for a second. It just took me a while. It was a very organic process that involved lots of cuddles, kisses and dirty diapers. I only had five days of paternity leave, seven if you include the weekend. I spent all of four days with my daughter before having to go back to work. It took time to get to know her. If you ask me now do I love my daughter? Absolutely yes. I can't imagine my life without my daughter. I miss her the moment I walk out the door every morning. By lunchtime I'm ready to be home with her, cuddled up on the sofa. I love every little bit of her, and every moment spent with her. I'm excited at the thought of seeing her grow and experience the world. I can't wait to tell her just how amazing the world around her is. She's the most beautiful baby in the world (known fact). I couldn't have hoped for a more lovely, well tempered daughter. I love her to the moon and on to the ends of the universe. It just took a while.