When I was around eight months pregnant already, I was absolutely impatient! Not only was my body giving out, but I couldn't wait to smell and hold and see my son. I couldn't wait to see his first smile, and hear his first cry.
And yet, I also felt sad around that time because I knew the time when i'd have to really share him was coming. Eventhough his father was very involved in the pregnancy, my son, till he was 40 weeks and some days old, was really all just mine. So yeah, in that aspect, it's kinda hard to beat biological mothers really.
For nine months, I had an exclusive relatioship and attachment with this person. Which was why I was bent on rooming him in. Just the idea that there'd be one second my son will feel scared and confused and abandoned (yikes!) in that cold, sterile nursery is like a knife through my heart. The minute I woke up, I started harassing my husband to get us started on rooming in. The nine hours apart till my son was delivered officially to us for rooming-in was torture for me, considering we nursed twice in that time, and considering that we were first-time parents who didn't know anything about being parents.
And even when my son squalled all night and we ended up more physically and emotionally exhausted, all I kept thinking about was how awful it would be if he was crying that way at the nursery and no one will be hugging him, and he won't be hearing my voice, and he might feel unloved.
So I can't imagine how painful it is for my cousin's wife, who's been separated from her youngest for over a week now. And I can't imagine how other moms saw their hearts through, those who had to leave their baby behind after the delivery because of complications. I can't imagine having to touch my baby while he's in an incubator, unable to hold him.
So in a weird way, maybe it's because God knew my heart couldn't take it that's why He did not (or has not) tried me that way. Kudos really to the brave moms out there who fight for their babies from afar...
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