I Don't Love You...

It’s exactly 2 months today until Isla turns 2.

I’ve kept her alive for 22 months.
Most months that’s all it feels like I’ve done.
Kept her alive.

It should be easy to love your child, right?
In my case, wrong.

Pregnancy didn’t fill me with happiness.
A quiet, yet extremely loud voice would say
“You don’t want this” every day, for 9 months.
I’d feel relief at the fact people couldn’t mind read.
How can I be a good Mum with these thoughts?

Labour was difficult. Not so much because of the pain
but because of complications, I spent the whole time thinking I was going to lose her.
Despite the panic, this was the first time I felt a connection to her.

The overwhelming instinct to protect and keep her safe, I’d waited 9 months for those feelings.
6lb 7oz entered the world and was plonked down on my chest.
That rush that most Mum’s say they feel, to my shock I actually felt it.
I felt the rush. Everything was going to be fine.
I was proud of myself.

We were home the next day and I could feel the happiness draining away.
You know the scene in Alice in Wonderland where she cries and cries and floods the room….
That’s what it was like. I just could not stop crying.
“This is normal, you’ll feel okay in few days once your hormones settle”
A few days turned into a few months and although the tears had stopped,
I was empty.
There wasn’t any love and there certainly wasn’t any happiness.
Nobody on the outside could have noticed, I’d smile and say all the things doting new Mum’s were supposed to say.
Inside I was screaming.

I hate this, I hate Isla, I hate being a Mum and most of all I hate myself for feeling like this.

I’m a bit of a loner, I’ve never really had a proper circle of friends.
I have a fairly big family, but it’s not one I particularly felt part of.
The first thing I do when I’m feeling muddled up is shut myself off from everyone.
Distance felt safe and safe was the only positive feeling I had. I clung on to it.

I had all of these people around me but no-one I wanted to talk to.
What was I supposed to say anyway? I hate my baby….

Isla wasn’t a particularly hard baby, she had silent reflux which caused a few feeding issues
but this calmed down once she was diagnosed and treatment had begun.
There was no reason to feel as though I was drowning.
I spoke to doctors in secret, all of which weren’t interested.
“Give it time, you’ll feel better”
I didn’t want to give it more time. I just wanted to love Isla.
I felt lost and I felt like a failure.
No-one could help me.
Eventually I accepted that this was just the way it was meant to be for me.

I clung on to the fact that I wanted to love her. If I wanted to love her, perhaps there was hope.
I took the pressure off of myself. I stopped beating myself up for the way I was feeling and most importantly,
I stopped telling myself exactly how I should be feeling. I stopped comparing myself to all of the other Mums.
It didn’t matter if I didn’t get dressed that particular day, it didn’t matter if I didn’t get out of the house or do the housework.
It mattered that Isla was kept warm, she was kept fed and she was kept safe.
That’s it.
One day at a time, hour by hour if need be. We got through the days.
Waking up wasn’t so hard and I began to feel almost excited for the next day.

Isla is my everything now, she’s my whole world and I can’t even begin to explain the love I feel for her.
I think my love for her was always there, it was just masked by all of my own fears and insecurities.
Fears of failing Isla, myself, my family. The fear of not being good enough, it’s bloomin’ powerful.
I subconsciously put too much pressure on myself and I definitely had no faith in myself.
I was so happy in the hospital after having her, literally on cloud 9. I figured that’s because I had professional people around me, a safety net.
At home, it felt as though I was 1000ft up, no safety net and I had a newborn baby in my arms.
It was a scary feeling, so I shut myself off from it. I shut myself off from Isla and convinced myself I didn’t love her.
It didn’t matter if I failed then.

The more Isla started interacting with me, the more she showed signs that I wasn’t failing her, the pressure lifted little by little.
The bond grew and grew. My self-confidence grew and I wasn’t feeling so lost.
I was present. I was actually being her Mum, I wasn’t just keeping her alive.

There are still days that I have to break down hour by hour but the days are filled with love rather than resentment.
Resentment that I first thought was aimed at Isla, but actually it was aimed at myself.
I won’t get those first few months back and I’m gutted about that but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to dwell on what could have been.
Focus on today only, don’t worry about tomorrow and definitely don’t dwell on yesterday.

My favourite part of everyday has always been bedtime.

It used to be bedtime because it meant I was done looking after Isla for the day.
Now it’s bedtime not because it means I can take off my Mum hat,

but because when Isla is all tucked up and I’m about to leave the room she says,
“Love you Mummy, lots of kisses”