I didn’t cry when I thought I would. When I phoned my husband to tell him I was pregnant, I was over the moon, but I didn’t cry. When we went to our first scan, and I saw our little peanut wriggling about on the screen, I was fascinated, but I didn’t cry. And when I held my not so little 9lb 9oz daughter for the first time, I was utterly speechless and totally in love, but I didn’t cry.
However, I have since discovered that being a mother is a ridiculous emotional roller coaster, that can reduce me to tears over the craziest and strangest things, and I rarely cry over the things I expect to.
Many would blame the sheer amount of pregnancy hormones that are swirling around your body. These particular hormones saw me crying hysterically when my husband wallpapered our downstairs bathroom a bit messily – but it’s really something different. It’s a complete, intense rush of love for this little person that’s popped into your life that you really can’t prepare for.
I’ve never fallen in love with someone as instantly as I did with my daughter, and my emotions clearly had no idea how to cope. I was in love with her from the moment I knew she was inside me, so to finally be able to hold her, look at her, and just be with her is apparently too much for me and my tear threshold.
I once full-on ugly cried during a breastfeeding session because I looked down at her tiny face as she fed, and couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have a baby so cute.
The first time we made the swap to bottle feeding, I wept the entire time as I was entirely sure my baby hated me for denying her my boobs. One spluttered cough at the start of the feed was all the convincing I needed and I felt like an awful mother until the next feed, when I realized all my daughter really wanted was milk and cuddles.
The first time I left the house without her, I confidently kissed her goodbye and strolled out the door, only to be a blubbering mess by the time I reached the car. I’m also sure I spent the entire time I was away from her looking at photos of her on my phone.
Just recently I stood in her as yet un-slept in room, staring at the huge pile of clothes she has already grown out of, and found myself welling up. I hugged her little ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ onesie, remembering how excited I was when I bought it months ago. Now her first Christmas has been and gone, and she’s definitely too long to fit in it again anyway. She’s still really a baby and I’m already getting overly emotional about how quickly she’s growing up.
Of course I’ve cried about things that seem more normal to me, and my husband for that matter. I’ve cried from the sheer lack of sleep. I’ve cried over the thought of feeding with cracked nipples. I cried along with her the first time she had a meltdown, because I just had no idea what to do to soothe her, but the random reasons still pop up all the time and catch me completely by surprise.
I know it’s only going to get worse as well. Every day she amazes me and I can’t quite believe that I’m lucky enough to have this little person in my life. When I’m sitting in the dark at 3am, as she sleepily clings to my shoulder after a feed, softly breathing in my ear, more often than not I feel tears spring in my eyes. Being a mother will continue to hit me in new and amazing ways every day, and more often than not, that’s going to involve some tears!