When I imagined myself giving birth, I pictured looking into my baby’s eyes for the first time and feeling an immediate bond. I’ve read and heard so much about the rush of emotions you get when you meet your baby for the first time, and just knew it would be the same for me.

Truthfully, it was nothing like that.

I felt so many things when Baby P was placed on my chest for the first time. I felt relief that she was healthy and that labor was over; I felt happy that I finally had my baby; I felt grateful that she was mine; I was in awe of her little features; I thought she was the cutest thing I had ever seen; and I was more exhausted than I had ever been in my life. However, I didn’t really feel connected to her immediately.

A couple of days after we came home from the hospital I had a little bit of a breakdown. I don’t know what brought it on, maybe my hormones were crashing. I was sobbing to Mr. P because I felt so guilty. I thought that the second Baby P was born that I was supposed to connect with her, but I felt like she was a stranger.

I felt like an absolutely horrible mother. I wondered that if she had my DNA if I would have felt differently. I wondered if we had made the wrong decision in adopting. I thought if the donors knew how I was feeling in that moment, that they would regret ever giving Mr. P and me their embryos. I felt like someone was going to come take her away from me. And I was scared that what I was feeling meant I didn’t love her. Everything going through my head made me think I couldn’t be a good mother to her, the kind of mother she deserved. I was a mess.

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Later that night I sat in bed holding Baby P. She was staring up at me with such a serious expression, like she was studying my face. I stared back down at her, tears flowing once more, and felt the start of something. It was like a little seed was planted inside of me and from there it grew.

As the days went on I could tell our bond was deepening. Of course she wasn’t a stranger. She was the same baby that had relentlessly kicked my ribs for months. She was the same baby that hiccuped daily in the womb, and continued to do so on the outside. She was, and is, and always will be mine.

A recent picture of Baby P. Who couldn't love this precious face?
A recent picture of Baby P. Who couldn’t love this precious face?

Love came slowly for me. Even though it’s hard to admit, I know now that’s ok. Today we have such a strong bond. I love her with a fierceness that I can’t even begin to explain. She can’t yet say it back, but I think she loves me too.