Bonding with my third baby was not the same

After restlessly waiting 9 long months, panting through labor and pushing through delivery, the moment finally arrives. The nurses grandly present your gorgeous newborn baby to you to hold and meet for the very first time and you feel like you’re going to explode with love. It’s a nice story, but for so many parents this is not how it happens. After birthing two babies, I thought I knew what to expect with my third baby. But everything with my third baby, including bonding with my third baby was not the same. And it had me feeling all sorts of bad feelings.

Bonding from the beginning

When does the bonding begin? I’m not sure exactly. Some say a pregnant mom bonds with her baby from the moment she knows she’s pregnant. But I don’t think I really felt this way through any of my pregnancies and babies. Maybe a little bit, I’m not sure, but certainly nothing like the earthside bond that I came to know later.

Perhaps my feelings towards labor and delivery got in the way of earlier bonding? Going into labor with my first baby, I was an extra anxious first-time mom scared of delivery. The second time around, I knew more of what to anticipate and wasn’t initially scared. However that changed when the baby wanted out and quickly, I barely made it to the hospital and they couldn’t get the epidural in me, cueing all my natural delivery fears. Did my anxieties and fears around labor and delivery inhibit me from bonding earlier? 

Regardless, after my first two boys’ births, it didn’t take long at all for me to feel a strong connection to each of them. It was incredible to me how it happened so naturally. I exclusively nursed both of them and felt our bond grow as they grew.

Third time’s a charm?

Alright, third time around, finally feeling confident about what my body can do going into labor and delivery. However, my third baby was prenatally diagnosed with a CHD. So while confident about my body’s role and capabilities in labor and delivery, as much as I tried to relax, it was impossible to not be anxious about my third baby’s medical condition and all the unknowns that were to come. Like with all babies, there is so much build-up to the big event. And with my third, there was an extra layer of anxiety, hope, worry, and relief having arrived at this point.

When she arrived, and seemed well, there aren’t enough appropriate words in English to describe the degree of relief I felt. However, that evening everything spiraled into chaos and I felt so disconnected from her.

Bonding bubble busted

We were floating on cloud nine, admiring her tiny toes and whole being, and had just started to get to know her. Only a few hours later the neonatologist came and popped our bonding bubble. They found on her birth echo that her heart was more complex than what they had seen prenatally. While she appeared the part of a healthy newborn on the outside, inside she was actually critically ill. 

I was instructed to stop feeding her immediately and that she couldn’t eat at all. They had to promptly transfer her to the NICU, insert as many IVs as they could and monitor her closely through the night. In the meantime, we had to pick a children’s hospital to transfer her.

I don’t know if I was attempting to guard my heart with the scary turn of events. Or if I was in a state of shock. If it was the physical distance placed between us. Was it the emotional and hormonal roller coaster? Or was it all of these things combined? I’m not certain, but I know bonding with my third baby was not the same.

And I didn’t like it. It worried me and felt so unfamiliar. She’s gorgeous. I made her, I birthed her. It’s a miracle she’s here in front of us. Yet I felt so disconnected. And I didn’t want to admit it.

Bonding paused

I had to sign a consent form that stated “possibility of condition worsening or death.” She had to be transferred to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, and I genuinely didn’t know how this would end. 

We left the hospital without her. We got in our car, the newborn car seat empty, and drove home without her. We got in our house, greeted by the Mamaroo, pack-n-play, changing table, and crib, and had no newborn to use these things. I collapsed in grief. 

There were no bringing home baby photos, her first car ride, and welcoming her into her home. We didn’t get to introduce her to her eager brothers and grandparents. I didn’t get to sit on the couch and nurse her for back-to-back cluster sessions. 

There was no bonding happening here. We didn’t have a baby with us to bond with. Bonding with my third baby was not the same.

Delayed bonding

We followed her to the children’s hospital and watched from a distance as spectators. No longer first in line as her caregivers. Truly, we only got to be first for a few hours, and even then it was in the hospital under the care and eye of nurses. My blurry, teary, exhausted, strained eyes bulged as they performed test after test after scan after exam. Is this really happening? A real-life nightmare.

Finally, on day 2, things calmed, the eye of the storm. She still needed regular monitoring and vital checks, but they had gathered the necessary data so specialty testing was done for now. This meant we could finally get in there and catch up on some much-delayed snuggles. 

There’s nothing quite like newborn snuggles. If you know, you know.

I held her while a storm of emotions raged in my head. Bewildered by this reality. Grateful I was holding her. Marveling at her being here. Confused by how we got here. Relief they finally allowed me to nurse her. Anxious, extremely anxious about everything that was about to happen.

We now knew her heart was much more complex than originally thought. We now knew she was critically ill and being kept alive by intravenous medicine as a temporary solution. We now knew she could not go home without going through open-heart surgery. We now knew this journey with her was going to be a lot more complicated.

Holding her was bittersweet, and right, but so many things about the situation felt very wrong. Bonding with my third baby was not the same. 

I loved her fiercely and was overjoyed she was here with us. But I couldn’t bond with her in the same effortless way I did with my first two babies. It all felt so different. Of course, it was wildly different. Her future was fuzzy. I was attempting to guard my heart.

Bonding eventually…

We went on to see her go through open-heart surgery at not even a full 3 days old. She struggled through her recovery. So many obstacles popped up with infections, feeding and otherwise.

My body and heart ached to cradle her close, but I could only cautiously graze her head or feet as she remained intubated. Thereafter I had to ask to hold her and get assistance from at least 2 nurses in order to hold her safely. It was a whole production. 

Through it all she continued to show us how strong and resilient she is. As she dropped lines, our confidence grew and we got to hold her more and more. We learned how to care for her in special ways, nontypical ways. Bonding with my third baby was not the same. But it was still happening albeit much slower. 

Eventually, we brought her home a month later. Holidays and birthdays had come and gone. We missed so much. She missed so much. 

While she was stable enough to be at home, she was still in a fragile state called interstage. They had repaired part of her heart, but it was still largely considered “unrepaired.” We were only trying to buy time at this point, get her to grow as much as possible before her second open-heart surgery. 

She had specialty medical care needs that left little time for anything else. I was a machine of pumping, washing, prepping meds, rocking to sleep, tube feeding, appointments, and more. There were no slower, leisurely hours. Which made it that much harder to bond.

With time though, I transcended normal efficiencies and managed to pause between lines and syringes to take it all in. I learned to sneak in a toe tickle and delighted in her giggle. I learned to accept the unknowns and live in the moment.

Time passed. She grew. We grew.

It was such a different and slower bonding journey, but eventually, bonding happened. And for this, I am grateful as this is not always the story with CHD.