From This Moment - Ready, Steady...Mummy!

From This Moment by Natalie at Ready, Steady...Mummy!

If you have missed what this series is all about please read From This Moment Blog Project.

I always imagined a huge deal being made of my first cuddle with Isaac; photos, pomp and ceremony. But it wasn't like that whatsoever, and it was perfect.

When I came round (I'd decided to pass out 4 minutes after giving birth) it was 4 hours later and the room was empty, dark and very, very quiet. I felt like I'd been hit by multiple trucks and it took a moment or two to work out a) where the hell I was, b) why I felt like I did and c) what the hell had happened.

Then it dawned on me - I was a mum. I actually said it out loud 'Oh my god, I'm a mummy...' to the empty room. Then I looked over and saw the crib at the end of my bed. I imagine they'd put it there as opposed to by my side to keep an eye on Isaac should he have needed anything while I was out of it, and for a brief second I panicked that they'd taken him away and that I wouldn't see him again. There was a lot of feelings like that in the days and weeks following his birth, but, for the purposes of this post we'll focus on the good bits.

In my panic though, I sort of dived toward the end of the bed which, in hindsight, was the worst thing I could have done. For starters I had a canula in both hands and one of my feet. Secondly I had a catheter- singly the most unpleasant thing following having a baby I assure you. My tummy was weird and pouchy, and fell sort of, well, empty. And saggy- mustn't forget saggy. And my nightdress was wet where my milk had started coming in while I'd slept. It was all very bizzare but was pushed to the back of my mind as I summoned the strength to get out of bed and go to the crib.

Isaac was sound asleep. He looked tiny. He was wearing a tiny backless hospital gown as nobody had bothered to look in my hospital bag for the clothes I'd brought for him. He was parachuting. I bent to pick him up when the midwife came in and told me off for being out of bed. I felt like a naughty school girl and got back into bed.

'I just wanted to see him and maybe hold him, if that's ok?' I asked her. She gave me a look of such sympathy and told me that she was sorry and that of course I could hold him. She handed him to me and I cuddled him for the first time. It didn't matter that he was covered in blood, that his face was severely bruised, that I could barely lift him. It was wonderful regardless. The midwife said she'd leave us alone for a while and I had him all to myself.

We drifted in and out of sleep for an hour or two, me talking to him quietly when I was awake, and looking into those big dark blue eyes. I felt like I was going to burst with the love I felt for him. It was bliss. Everything I'd wanted in my birth plan - the calm, quiet experience - was being made up for with that first few hours.

It was almost a shame when mum and the Mr came back, the lights came on and they were passing him to each other and holding him and talking to me. I didn't want that at that time, I just wanted my baby.
Ever since that day I've tried to recreate those moments as often as possible. When it's just Isaac and I, it's like we could achieve anything - we're such a great little team. We snuggle in bed most mornings and even seven months on I still encourage skin to skin contact, though I stopped breast feeding long ago. There's nothing better than a scrunchy little body snuggling into you and keeping each other warm and drowsy. And there never will be.

From that moment, all those months ago, for now and forever more, until the day I die, I will never tire of cuddling my boy.

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