Bonding

Bonding, attachment whatever you want to call it.  It was my expectation that I would feel this connection with my child, I should have known better.  I thought that once we were home that it would happen like snapping you fingers.  I will be honest that I had kind of held myself back from developing a true bond with Oliver while he was in the NICU.  I had once again let fear guide me instead of the gentle voice telling me that it would all be okay.  I was so scared that he would die that I didn't want to get too attached, I thought it would hurt less if he did die.  Looking back I do regret that decision to not try harder at developing that emotional bond with him.
Once Ollie was home and I became his primary caregiver I thought that I could just turn on those feelings.  The whole time he was in the NICU I had lived by their rules: only holding one time a day, touching him a certain way so as not to overstimulate his developing sensory system, keeping the doors closed in his fish tank to keep the heat in.  I waited to do his cares until the nurse gave me the go ahead.  I did try to develop some sort of a bond with him while he was in the fish tank.  I did all his cares when I was there.  I kangaroo'd him every chance I got.  I read to him a few times a day while he slept.  I did not know if he had developed a recognition of my voice when he was in the womb, so I was desperate for him to know my voice now.  Once Oliver was able to stay in an open crib I could hold him more, but I still felt fear every time I held him, worried that he would suddenly stop breathing.
When I didn't feel those feelings right away in those first few days I figured that it was due to my mental and physical exhaustion.  I felt like I was going through the motions of cuddling, kissing, feeding, bathing, changing, and rocking him.  I kept hoping that each morning I would wake up and feel that deep love and connection to my child that I had heard other mothers talk about, I felt affection for him but not that deep, deep connection.  This added to the layers of grief, guilt, and shame that had wrapped themselves around me.  I distinctly remember sitting on the couch next to Justin one evening watching television while Oliver ate.  I worked up the courage and asked him "when will it not feel like we are babysitting someone's child?".  I felt like a horrible person for giving voice to what I was feeling, I mean what mother feels that way about her own child?  Justin turned to me, and I noticed that he looked so tired and just kind of said "I don't know".  Justin was showing the strain and stress and lack of sleep over the past 3 months.  He was involved in the start up of a large project at work.  He would be working swing shifts for the first month that Oliver was home.  I HATED this schedule, 12 hour shifts sometimes during the day and sometimes during the night.  When he worked the nights it was the hardest because he would be gone all night and then come home and eat breakfast and go to bed for about 6 hours.  It was so hard, but I couldn't complain because his work had been so understanding this whole summer and Justin was always able to take days at a time off without anyone saying anything.
I remember feeling that I had made the right decision to not return to work after having Oliver.  I spent my days trying to develop a bond with my son.  I found that wearing him worked the best for me.  I had a Moby wrap that I would tie him to my chest with.  I liked this wrap because it allowed me the flexibility of positioning him how I wanted and how he was the most comfortable.  It also allowed me to position the wires from his apnea monitor without kinking them.
Nursing him also helped me to feel more attached to him.  When he was in the NICU I was only allowed to nurse him one time a day.  Once we got home and his doctor gave us the go ahead to feed him as much and as often as Oliver wanted, I would nurse him for most feedings and would then offer him a bottle.
The bonding did eventually happen, but it took a monumental amount of effort on my part.  I had to learn to let go of the fear that was holding me back.  I once again had to take another leap of faith, I had to trust that feeling telling me that Oliver would live and that he would be alright.    I am so very glad that I did take that leap.  I only regret that I did not do it sooner.  Today I feel like I have fully bonded and developed that deep love that a mother has for her child.