Are you done getting high on that baby?

My husband's favorite thing to say to me is "are you done getting high on the baby yet?" No, I am not. Not even close, not even kind of close.

At nine months pregnant, there were days when I wasn't so sure about having a baby, being a parent, changing my life style, my habits, my spending. There were so many unknowns, as there are in every one's transition to parenthood. I felt at times overwhelmed about what I was about to embark on.

When L was born, I loved her, I knew that much, but I was not one of those moms who falls completely in love with their baby the moment they are pulled, kicking and screaming, from your groin. For me, it was a journey. I loved her, I would have thrown my self in front of a bus for her, but, I also had to talk my self out of giving her to some firemen I saw in the grocery store when she was four days old. What was I doing at the grocery store when she was four days old you ask? Picking up my groceries because my husband was in the early stages of PNEUMONIA!

As the time and struggles went on, I felt that maternal love finally kick in. I remember when it happened. L was two months old. I finally felt like I had a handle on this motherhood thing. At least I knew how not to have a meltdown every time something new happened, and I was finally convinced that she would survive being my child, that she was not going to be taken from me. I let my guard down and the love flooded in. I literally felt it running through my veins, the Oxytocin was flowing. (And I was not breastfeeding anymore so for all of you guilt ridden bottle feeders out there, you will still bond with your child!)

When L was three and a half months, postpartum depression kicked in. Even though I was crying again every minute of every day, I still felt the overwhelming love for her. PPD is real and the pain and guilt are unimaginable. Through it all, the love struck obsession, the addiction to my daughter was still there, persevering through it all. That and good medication pulled me out of my PPD in one piece and it has only gotten better by the day.

As the months fly by, the love I feel for this child intensifies beyond anything I can explain. Sitting here, writing this post, I can smell her, hear her little voice babbling, feel her little hands run across my face, even though she is miles away with her nanny. When I get home at the end of the day, I smell her head, give her as many kisses as she will allow and just feel her in my arms. This is what I carry with me every day as I leave for work. This unquestionable love. I am fully aware that she will break my heard a thousand times over my lifetime. I can only hope I will survive.