Last night I read the diary I kept during my pregnancy. I'm only 8 weeks postpartum so I can easily recall the sense of eager excitement as my due date drew near. I had a difficult pregnancy. Physically the baby was healthy and well, emotionally I was a train wreck.
At around 6 months pregnant I began battling with my addiction again something I thought I had left in the past.
It was the love for my unborn baby that kept me strong. Many times it helped me stop in the tracks from doing something that could have been potentially harmful. Before I even met my daughter I knew I only wanted the best for her.
The minute my little miracle was born I felt a huge rush of maternal love and as the weeks have flown by it has only grown.
Waking up at least three times a night, eating literally every hour during the day, refusing to get into any schedule, bringing up on my newly dry cleaned clothes just as I'm running out the house, all parts of her I love.
Sure it bothers me once in a while and I do occasionally miss the freedom I had before she was born. But it is something called unconditional love. A mothers love for her offspring. The kind of love that no matter what your child does you would do anything for them. For no reason other then you are their mother, the person who loves them more then anyone else.
My mother lives 2 streets down from me and I have seen her once in the past 4 years.
I grew up without that unconditional love, a need every child deserves to have met. When I was young I would try my hardest to earn it. Work tirelessly to please my mother hoping she would be proud of me. I was to young to understand why it would never be good enough for her.
As an adult I stopped asking for it. I realised even when said the words were meaningless. ''I love you'' does not hold any significance when two minutes later her mood had changed and it was '' I hate you'' or ''you don't deserve to live' or the worst ''you are unlovable''.
Hearing those words drummed into me day after day I began to question if there was any truth to them. I convinced myself it was only words, I refused to let it hurt me. But obviously it did affect me till this day I find it hard to believe when my husband says he loves me.
My friends laugh at me when I tell them I don't let my baby cry. I read somewhere that babies feels a sense of security when their needs are met straight away. I'm determined my children will always feel safe, secure, and most importantly loved. And while I may go over the top a bit, overcompensate, my guess is that to much love is a way better alternative to no love.
Yes, unconditional love...unconditional love. Just the way Hashem loves us....
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