I didn't pay attention to most of the prenatal classes, though the eighties videos had my husband's eyes pried wide with various uncomfortable emotions. I glazed over the major content like the pain-relief drugs, the epidural, the C-section. I wouldn't need to know it, I was sure.
Rather, I made a totally necessary delivery playlist on my iPhone. I set a packed bag by the door. I downloaded the contraction timer app. I was ready to birth without a plan. I thought birth isn't about being a hero and that I'll take what comes. All lies of course. I tried to play it off as cool but I really, really wanted a natural delivery and never expected a C-section.
After my firstborn was an emergency C-Section I was left with this deep confusing gap. It was a two-month long chasm filled with all the expectations I had of how my birth should have gone. Drowning in disappointment in my body, quickly followed by feeling ashamed I would entertain such thoughts when I have a beautiful baby boy from it all. I wanted a shadow over the time I had to spend recovering, hours passed while my family cuddled my new son before he would ever rest in my unfamiliar arms. I would well up with tears in the middle of the night, feeling sick with myself that I didn't immediately splash into the pool of love and bonding over the life I had brought into this world "like all moms should."
I felt overwhelmed by the presence of a new baby I was responsible for. I felt exhausted, clueless, like I was faking motherhood and just going through the motions (spoiler alert, we all feel this way).
My experience with my second born, my daughter, was the opposite. Her swift VBAC delivery paced the growth of my love for her from the moment I laid eyes on her. I felt able with her. I felt connected to her in a way I had naively thought all mothers ought to. Yet, all the reassuring sentiments that built around me were quickly kicked into rubble as my daughter became a very tough baby who struggled with GERD and would push me in uncomfortable and difficult ways as a mother for the first year of her life.
This summer we had another son. Another VBAC baby, this time with a vacuum. The pregnancy was my worst, I hated it. However, after he was here I finally feel settled into mom and babyhood. I finally find myself relishing in it instead of fighting it (maybe because it's the last baby).
My kids are now four, three and almost a year. I have three very different kids with three very different entrances into this world. I can say one thing: as the space between birthing babies and parenting kids widens, all of my past disappointments no longer matter.
Eventually yours won't either.
Eventually the link between the disappointment in the birth of this baby and the early months of shaky parenting unfastens itself from the now assured mother's arms and the reliant child it holds.
Eventually you will be looking across the room at a boy's big brown eyes that at first you averted and now only you can decode. Meanwhile that warm tiny body you cradled so intently when it was new is an independent little girl who toddles around without much need for you.
Eventually you won't look at other moms and hate-wonder how you can suck some of the happiness and energy out of them. You will appreciate the hard work your body and heart have gone through and honour it with some rest. You will learn a taste for the subtle blend of happiness and hardships that will fill every day.
Eventually you will learn that being a mom extends a lifetime beyond a horrible pregnancy, a traumatic delivery, and an indifference to a baby waking you up every two hours for the first six months. All the hardships and mistakes you have and will make as a parent hold you back when you leave your identity strapped to them. You can cut those ropes now before you get tied and tangled.
No matter how they got here, they are yours.
No matter how you try and fail, they are still loved by a parent meant just for them.
No matter what you think is missing, time fills in those blanks with something better.
You are a mom, no matter what.
Shawna Scafe writes at Simple on Purpose. A site about the ups and downs of simple living, family style. There's also lots of waffles, dry shampoo and Instagram.
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