Today I had a meltdown. A meltdown of massive proportions. The realization that these precious precious days of maternity leave are almost over hit me like a ton of bricks. I will never ever again have this beautiful time with my daughter again. Somewhere in the midst of ugly crying and trying to keep the baby entertained, I realized that with all the joy of motherhood, there are moments of mourning too.

To start at the very beginning – you have this amazing bundle of new pink gorgeous baby, but nobody told me how much I would miss having her part of me. I’m in mourning for the little stretches and kicks and flutters- she’ll never be so much “mine” ever again. From that moment of birth she became her own little person and the “us” of it all died as my husband cut her cord.

I had to have an emergency c section, after 3 days of labour Hannah went into major distress, and we were rushed to theatre. Although it was a procedure that saved both our lives and gave me my precious daughter, I mourn the fact that I didn’t have the birth I wanted, I didn’t get to birth my child and deliver her into this world, she was pulled from me by a skilled surgeon and somehow I feel that she was the one to give her life, not me.

I mourn the tiny tiny baby that she was. Those beautiful little pouty lips and clenched fists resting against my chest, curled up like a little tree frog, asleep, oblivious to the world around her. I celebrate her growth every day, but oh if I could just hold my tiny tiny baby once more.

I mourn her total reliance on me for nourishment. I love watching her taste new things and start to build a love for food, but inside my heart has broken a little that she doesn’t need just me anymore.

The worst of it all is that I’m already mourning the loss of our time together. I’ve been blessed to have almost 7 months of uninterrupted time with her, but it’s really starting to sink in that in a few short days that will be over. Never ever again will I have the luxury of just us two with no outside interruptions or responsibilities. And I know life must go on, but I want to stay in this happy limbo, this time with just us and time to play and nap and just sit and watch the dogs and clouds.

Nobody prepared me for the love I feel for this little being, nobody could have. Nobody prepared me for the utter heartbreak I’m feeling at the prospect of us being apart.

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