bonding with mia

I had always assumed the parent-child bond was an automatic and instant bond cemented shortly after birth. Recently, I have learned otherwise.

When Laci was born, we were bonded instantly. One look at her little face and I was smitten. I held and cuddled her, and studied her face for hours. She rarely left my sight during our stay in the hospital, I changed her first diapers, she slept on my chest. It was a connection easily formed.

When Mia was born, I held her for only a few short minutes before she was taken away for medical attention. She was poked with needles and hooked up to monitors before we could get a picture of her. She was my baby, and no doubt I loved her, but that powerful bond I remember feeling with Laci wasn't as automatic with Mia as I had hoped.

I was able to hold Mia a second time at the hospital, for only a few minutes, before she was intubated and prepped for her helicopter ride to Davis. I wouldn't see her again until later that evening. I remember the first time seeing her in the bed at Davis - so many tubes, needles, monitors, and an oscillatory ventilator that actively wiggled her little body to help it breathe. It was my baby, but there was a distance I felt from her. It didn't feel like looking at my baby, she just looked like a very sick little one that I could neither hold or help. Her condition was very serious and her survival through the night was questionable. I was afraid to love her so much if she would only be taken away so quickly. I suppose it is the heart's way of protecting itself by keeping a distance, keeping me from loving her too much.

I would love to say that I believed in my girl's survival from the beginning, but I would be lying. I had so many thoughts in my head that I wished weren't there. Would I be signing a death certificate just hours after signing her birth certificate? Would we be going home with a baby or empty handed? The first few days at UCD, especially those first 24 hours were very surreal. I felt like I was watching myself from a distance, like some horrible scene on TV that I couldn't turn away from.

I had planned to breastfeed Mia, so the nurses encouraged me to start pumping right away. They encouraged me to keep pumping every 2-3 hours, on the same schedule the typical newborn would be eating. It was incredibly difficult to bottle my milk while my head was filled with doubt about whether my baby would actually get to eat it. I wanted to have the desire to pump for my baby, but the truth was, I didn't want to...and for that, I felt like a horrible mother. Every 2-3 hours was impossible for me. It was heartbreaking every time I sat down, but, with my mom's support and encouragement, I struggled through it, starting out about every 4-6 hours and then gradually increasing over the following week. As Mia made progress and as I felt all the love, prayers, and support pouring forth from our friends and family, it got a little easier. I cried less often and believed more that I was providing nourishment that my baby would actually use...eventually.

As each day progressed in the hospital, Mia became more "mine," more "our baby," rather than just the sick baby in the bed. Being able to hold her definitely helped strengthen my bond with her. It was a little difficult to maneuver her with all her tubes and cords, but as the tubes disappeared little by little, it got easier. By our last day in the hospital, her monitor cords felt as much a part of her as her arms and legs and I didn't have to think so much about them as I picked her up and arranged her in my lap.

As we left the hospital last night, I was a mix of emotions. I was beyond excited to be leaving the hospital with my baby, nervous about how Laci would react, anxious about taking care of two little ones, and maybe even a little bit distanced from my little Mia still. I had changed her diaper, fed her, taken her temperature, and rocked her plenty within the walls of the hospital, but it never felt natural in the way that it should feel when you are caring for your new baby. I always found it somewhat difficult to feel completely comfortable in Mia's rooms...there were nurses and monitors all around, other patients and their parents, uncomfortable chairs, and the too quiet atmosphere necessary for healing babies.

Being home is so much better than I had thought. Mia hasn't even been home with us for 24 hours yet and I already feel so much more connected to her. I held her on my chest this morning just because I could, because the chair was comfortable, and Sesame Street was on the TV, and Laci was laying across my outstretched legs. It was perfect. And that bond with Mia that I've struggled with for the past almost four weeks is here, and strong, and I'm sure will get stronger each day as I am able to get to know her better.