Where's My Baby Bond?

When my first born daughter Laura was thrust wrinkled and perfect on my chest, an instant bond had formed between us. After thirteen hours of labor, I was in love. I had the perfect pregnancy, a long but uneventful labor, and no complications whatsoever. So, when my husband and I learned we were expecting again a little over a year later, I was looking forward to the same wonderful bonding experience. Even more so, when we discovered we were having twins. Of course I knew that there was a higher risk of complications with a twin pregnancy, but I couldn't conceive of how that would affect the attachment that the birthing process creates between mother and child. Again, I had a great pregnancy. Despite the gargantuan size of my belly causing me to become somewhat of a spectacle in public, I had no complaints carrying my two new additions. Even when I discovered that a cesarean was inevitable, I remained optimistic that I would bond just as well with my twin girls, as I did with my firstborn singleton. I preferred that the girls would be born naturally, but knew that a c-section would lower the risk of difficulties for both of us. Fortunately, the girls didn't attempt an early appearance and my c-section was scheduled for the 38^th week of gestation.

Full of excitement and some expected trepidation, I was wheeled into a sterile operating room on a Friday morning. It was then that my hopes of instant bonding began to dissipate. My blinding white surroundings were oppressive and far removed from the soothing dim lights of a birthing room. Nurses and doctors though very kind, rushed around in a blur as machines omitted sharp bleeps and buzzes. Once the epidural had been administered and my husband had been allowed to join me, my hopes dwindled even further. I was still in anticipation of meeting my little ones, but I felt both scared and strange. Although I could feel no physical pain the tugging and jerking the doctor inflicted in order to remove my babies was uncomfortable to say the least. But it was more than that. It was a violation. Once my sweet little girls were taken out of me and hastily lifted over the surgical sheet, they were promptly whisked away. I watched helplessly as delivery nurses prodded and patted Julia (first out). I searched my husband's face for reassurance. This was nothing like the thrill of holding my firstborn seconds after she was born.

As it turned out, Julia was fine and only had to endure a short duration in an oxygen tent. Both girls were healthy, each weighing just over five pounds. In the hours and days ahead I felt cheated. My bonding moment had been stolen. I loved Julia and Elizabeth, of that there was no doubt, but the c-section that everyone said would be no big deal, had become a very big deal to me. To make matters worse, five days post delivery I had to undergo major hernia surgery. Not only did this impair my physical recovery process, but it also impeded the bonding process. When I came home from the hospital for the second time, I was in utter despair. Sleep deprived I would look at my sweet baby girls feeling an odd distance between us. Would I ever feel that bond between us? The one I had with Laura?

The answer was yes, but it took time. Instead of bottling up my fear, guilt and insecurity for feeling the way I did, I reached out to other mothers. I found that instead of pretending everything was okay, or playing the martyr, being honest and open was breaking down the walls that separated me from the bonding process. When I was able to let go and share my experience with others, along with receiving similar testimonies, I could focus on the happiness that my newborns gave me. My eyes finally opened to the fact that we had bonded, but in a different way. A gradual way. I believe a great illusion exists among women, that if we don't instantaneously bond with our babies something is wrong with us, despite books and talk shows telling us it happens often. I hope that by sharing my experience, I can offer hope to new mothers who may share in a later bonding process. Now, at almost twelve weeks, I feel an intensely strong bond with my girls. With each passing day our bond becomes even more solidified.

When my first born daughter Laura was thrust wrinkled and perfect on my chest, an instant bond had formed between us. After thirteen hours of labor, I was in love. I had the perfect pregnancy, a long but uneventful labor, and no complications whatsoever. So, when my husband and I learned we were expecting again a little over a year later, I was looking forward to the same wonderful bonding experience. Even more so, when we discovered we were having twins. Of course I knew that there was a higher risk of complications with a twin pregnancy, but I couldn't conceive of how that would affect the attachment that the birthing process creates between mother and child. Again, I had a great pregnancy. Despite the gargantuan size of my belly causing me to become somewhat of a spectacle in public, I had no complaints carrying my two new additions. Even when I discovered that a cesarean was inevitable, I remained optimistic that I would bond just as well with my twin girls, as I did with my firstborn singleton. I preferred that the girls would be born naturally, but knew that a c-section would lower the risk of difficulties for both of us. Fortunately, the girls didn't attempt an early appearance and my c-section was scheduled for the 38^th week of gestation.

Full of excitement and some expected trepidation, I was wheeled into a sterile operating room on a Friday morning. It was then that my hopes of instant bonding began to dissipate. My blinding white surroundings were oppressive and far removed from the soothing dim lights of a birthing room. Nurses and doctors though very kind, rushed around in a blur as machines omitted sharp bleeps and buzzes. Once the epidural had been administered and my husband had been allowed to join me, my hopes dwindled even further. I was still in anticipation of meeting my little ones, but I felt both scared and strange. Although I could feel no physical pain the tugging and jerking the doctor inflicted in order to remove my babies was uncomfortable to say the least. But it was more than that. It was a violation. Once my sweet little girls were taken out of me and hastily lifted over the surgical sheet, they were promptly whisked away. I watched helplessly as delivery nurses prodded and patted Julia (first out). I searched my husband's face for reassurance. This was nothing like the thrill of holding my firstborn seconds after she was born.

As it turned out, Julia was fine and only had to endure a short duration in an oxygen tent. Both girls were healthy, each weighing just over five pounds. In the hours and days ahead I felt cheated. My bonding moment had been stolen. I loved Julia and Elizabeth, of that there was no doubt, but the c-section that everyone said would be no big deal, had become a very big deal to me. To make matters worse, five days post delivery I had to undergo major hernia surgery. Not only did this impair my physical recovery process, but it also impeded the bonding process. When I came home from the hospital for the second time, I was in utter despair. Sleep deprived I would look at my sweet baby girls feeling an odd distance between us. Would I ever feel that bond between us? The one I had with Laura?

The answer was yes, but it took time. Instead of bottling up my fear, guilt and insecurity for feeling the way I did, I reached out to other mothers. I found that instead of pretending everything was okay, or playing the martyr, being honest and open was breaking down the walls that separated me from the bonding process. When I was able to let go and share my experience with others, along with receiving similar testimonies, I could focus on the happiness that my newborns gave me. My eyes finally opened to the fact that we had bonded, but in a different way. A gradual way. I believe a great illusion exists among women, that if we don't instantaneously bond with our babies something is wrong with us, despite books and talk shows telling us it happens often. I hope that by sharing my experience, I can offer hope to new mothers who may share in a later bonding process. Now, at almost twelve weeks, I feel an intensely strong bond with my girls. With each passing day our bond becomes even more solidified.