Purple is for a princess you know. That is what she told me years ago when everything she owed was mostly pink and purple. Last week we went on a shopping trip, I bought her first training bra. I know it is a little cliché to say I can hardly believe the time has flown so quickly, but it has. As we reached this milestone, I felt compelled to share some parts of our journey.
She was six weeks premature, tiny and we had to leave her in the hospital for three weeks. I have had to deal with many challenges, but none is as dark, more important or means more to me as this one. Maybe some will be able to relate to the feeling of being a ‘not good enough mother.’
When I had the twins, I was a busy woman, training as a counsellor, and working as a social worker. In my mind, the children would fit perfectly into my world, and everything would continue to flow as usual. One morning altered the course of what I thought was going to be an ordered existence. The morning after they were born the nurse changed my daughter and found blood in her stool the consultant paediatrician was informed. They did an assessment and made the decision to take her back to the special care unit.
It was not rational, but I hated her
It was not rational, but I hated her. I hated the woman who in my mind took my daughter; I did not have the chance to feed or change her I barely touched her. Her brother immediately latched onto the breast but she did not and I felt they had taken her before we had the chance to work through that first hurdle. I visited her on the ward but because she could smell the breast milk and would feel for it, and she was nil by mouth I made the decision to keep her in her little cot. I felt very cruel not being able to give her milk when she wanted it. Day after day I sat by her small bed and cried. She kept her eyes closed for the first seven days. One day as I was leaving she opened them. I felt sure she watched me as I walked away. And the guilt kept building.
Three weeks later she was finally able to join us at home.
When you have children no one talks about the difficulties in bonding; no one tells you that there might be some hiccups and give suggestions. At baby showers, you learn about breastfeeding, bathing and how to stay connected with your husband while looking after children. These are all important, but no one mentions attachment. It is almost an unspoken agreement that this will happen automatically; this was not my truth I had to work hard at it. I had to be intentional. I had to work backwards. Undo, unlearn and reprogram my mind to deal with what had become my new reality.
I was home for three weeks with my son however when my daughter came home I had to begin again; this was uncharted territory. I had to undertake this as a new mother without my mom around or anyone to suggest anything that would make this journey easier. Perhaps I did not know how to articulate what I could see was happening because when I tried to reach out for help from one of the twins support line, they were unhelpful. For all my preparation the one area I did not read or pray about was an attachment issue. I prayed about parenting and post-natal depression. However, I took for granted that attaching would be a simple straight forward process. As the weeks progressed, I realised that it was not straightforward I had to make deliberate choices. People made hurtful comments while I was working through an area that I had no idea how to do in practice. I was making conscious decisions every day as a mom without any canvas or compass. We muddled through me making thoughtful choices, praying and talking to God about my confusion. Being honest with myself and God was crucial and very uncomfortable; I did not feel anyone could relate or understand.
I wanted her to have a mother she could count on
Over the years, I worked hard at being the most important woman in my daughter’s life. I wanted her to have a mother she could count on, and I knew for that relationship to come to fruition I had to endure the terrible places in the early stage. Over the years, I have had to battle guilt, hard questions, and challenges, I have had to use prayer as I explain to her why we left her in the hospital. Through this process, I realised that she was okay, and I was the one that was not, I continued to be locked, in the guilt of leaving her.
Seven years later I read ‘yesterday’s child’ and fell apart again. This book suggested that she knew, she knew I left her in the hospital. The guilt felt overwhelming. Honestly, I did not know if she would survive and a part of me had begun grieving. I self-protected and was afraid to hope. No birth preparation prepared me for this possibility. After mourning and talking through my feelings, the fog began to disappear, and I could see that we were further ahead than I thought.
My daughter is a beautiful, well-adjusted child who knows she is loved. We have special time together every week; she is more like me that I care to admit. Nevertheless, I was not able to move on until I dealt with the guilt of what I thought we had not been for her. I could not protect her from being ill, and attachment was not natural, I had to be intentional and work at a process I thought was going to be automatic.
Our shopping trip was special, and I treasure every moment that we can spend together creating memories that will help her navigate her life challenges.
