After a planned C-section, based on my age and the size of the baby, our son was finally here.
Alice Mann reveals how her dream of becoming a mother turned into a 'nightmare'. Stock image used
At first, I struggled with mixed feelings, and there were times when I thought I hated my baby. In reality, I hated the situation and, more than anything, I hated myself.
When they placed him on my chest, I didn't experience the rush of love that people talk about. Instead, I felt disbelief that he was finally here, that he was ours. However, a few days later, in a postnatal euphoria, I stood in happy tears, marveling at the miracle we had created.
But four weeks later, I found myself battling to recapture that feeling. Staring at my crying baby, whom I had wanted so desperately and invested so much in, I felt resignation, resentment, horror, and absolute misery.
I froze my eggs at 36 and tried to conceive on my own with donor sperm at 40. There was no part of motherhood that I was enjoying, and I felt guilty for having these unnatural feelings. I believed that this innocent baby deserved a better mother than me and was tormented by the thought that many women would trade places with me in a heartbeat.
Throughout my journey, I had resented complaints from other mothers, thinking they were ungrateful for what they had. But now, I found myself struggling with emotions I never anticipated.
Looking back with the benefit of hindsight and more sleep, I can rationalize those early feelings. The lack of sleep, postnatal hormones, and recovering from major abdominal surgery contributed to the shock of having a tiny baby. It wasn't postnatal depression, but rather the overwhelming experience of becoming a parent.
My journey to motherhood had been long and emotionally draining, and I wasn't prepared for the challenges that came with it. Every failed IVF cycle shifted my goals, and I never allowed myself to imagine what life with a baby might be like.
In those early weeks, the phrase 'be careful what you wish for' haunted me. My emotions fluctuated, but my partner and I reassured each other that things would get better, even though we sometimes stared at each other in mutual horror, wondering what we had done.
I struggled with a sense of disconnect from the other mothers who seemed to have it all figured out. I felt like I didn't belong in this new world of motherhood, and survivor's guilt plagued me.
Through my blog, I connected with thousands of women who faced similar struggles. But as I transitioned into motherhood, I felt like I was betraying those who had supported me on my journey.
The societal glorification of motherhood also added to the guilt I felt about my conflicting emotions. However, as time passed, my son's smiles and laughter brought joy into our lives, and motherhood became less of a burden and more of a source of happiness.
Our life today is different from what we had imagined before, but it's not worse or better; it's just different. Having gone through the experience of infertility, I now understand that there are many ways to find joy and fulfillment in life. Motherhood, for me, is a unique journey, shaped by my past and my present, and that's how I choose to see it.
