Why I Didn’t Feel the Need to See My Newborn & Didn’t Care When He Was Taken to the NICU?

As my son turns 5 today, I can’t help but reflect on the incredible journey that brought him into my life. On this very day, 5 years ago, I experienced a rollercoaster of emotions during his birth – from excruciating pain to unexpected laughter, and ultimately, a love that transcends time and space. This is the story of how my son came into this world and forever changed my heart.

The early hours of June 6th was unlike any other when the first pangs of labor struck at 2 AM. The pain was excruciating, like a thousand white-hot needles piercing my body. Without a moment’s hesitation, we rushed to the hospital around 2:30 AM, my husband, my brother and my mother by my side, their faces etched with worry.

However, upon examination, the doctor advised us to come back at 8 AM, as it was still too early. Can you imagine? I spent those 5 hours from 3 AM to 8 AM, just walking around the park near my place, gritting my teeth through each pain, my family tagging along, visibly tired and worried.

As the clock struck 8:00 AM, we reached the hospital and by 8:30 AM, the pain had become so severe that I could no longer bear it. I started insisting on a C-section, begging the doctor to end my misery. But my doctor (the best doctor a lady could ask for in those moments), with a calm demeanor, was confident that a surgical intervention was not necessary and I could do it naturally.

Hence, she left me in the capable hands of other assistant doctors, who proceeded to induce even more pain. Relatives visited, each offering their own advice, and I endured everything until 11:30 AM. Finally, my mom, feeling helpless and worried seeing me in so much pain, couldn’t stand it & visited the doctor’s cabin and insisted on a C-section.

The doctor advised waiting until at least 12 PM. My mom, unable to bear my pain, sat outside the hospital in the scorching sun, desperately wanting to get me out of my misery, praying for me. She felt no heat despite sitting in the fierce sun that was landing upon her. My brother was in constant contact with my doctor sister, describing my writhing pain and seeking advice. My husband was not in his senses, unsure of what to do to alleviate my suffering. He could only watch as I battled through each contraction, his heart breaking with every pained cry that escaped my lips.

At around 12:15 PM, I was finally taken to the labor room, where the real battle began. Funniest part, earlier I was dying for a C-section, but when the doc struggled to see the baby’s head during the intense delivery process, asked the Nurse to get the OT ready & that was when I found myself exclaiming amidst tears and pain, “Are they really going to do the operation?” silently protesting, “NOOOOO, I didn’t want a C-section, I just said that out of pain!” (expressing my fear of surgery).

Just as the nurse was about to step away, the doctor reassured me with, “I can see it coming,” bringing a sense of relief over me. It was a moment of unexpected humor in the midst of the delivery room chaos, a brief respite from the agony that consumed me.

After an hour of pushing, shouting, and everything in between, I finally delivered a baby boy at 1:07 PM. I soon learned that he had a slow heartbeat and would be whisked away to the NICU for the entire day. Surprisingly, I felt nothing at that moment, not even a twinge of pain at being separated from my newborn. I was only relieved that I was out of the labor pain, that the excruciating ordeal was finally over, but I didn’t feel the urgency or overwhelming emotion that new mothers often talk about.

Not only this, I didn’t feel the need to see my baby, even when the doctor asked the assistant to show him to me. I was really like “Yeah ok, take him, I don’t even care.” I know, I know, worst mom ever! But I was so drained and still recovering from that insane labor pain that having a newborn just didn’t register. This lack of emotion is a guilt that I can never shake off, although it is somewhat alleviated by the ongoing physical pain I was experiencing.

When I came out of the labor room, I only wanted to meet my husband and discuss his feelings. I slept peacefully, painfully, that night without much thought of my newborn son. The following day, when my son came back from NICU, fully healthy, the doctors handed him over to me & helped me breastfeed him, I was still okay, not feeling any love or emotions towards him. I still felt distant, which was unsettling. It was as if a part of me had been left behind in that delivery room, consumed by the pain and exhaustion.

It wasn’t until I came home and hugged him, taking him into my arms that following night, that I felt a connection. Holding him close, feeling his little breaths—everything changed. That was when all the love I was supposed to feel from the start rushed in overwhelmingly. Since then, our bond has only grown stronger. That moment is etched in my memory forever, a testament to the power of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

I can confidently say that Hitarth couldn’t have had a better mother than me, even though he doesn’t know what happened during that time. He remembers me as the mother who has been by his side since the next day, a constant presence in his life, guiding him through every milestone and challenge.

I have photos of him in the NICU, with drips and nose pipes attached. People say I should delete these disturbing photos from my phone, but I refuse to do so. These photos serve as a powerful reminder of the strength and love that surrounded my baby during a critical time, and they capture a significant and emotional moment in our lives, reflecting both the challenges and the strength it took to get through that period.

They’re reminders of what we both went through and how strong my baby was from the start. They are a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always a glimmer of hope.

I don’t know if people will judge me for this, but reflecting on those early days, I sometimes wonder why my feelings were delayed. Then I realize that it’s okay, processing the intense pain and the exhaustion took a toll, and it took a while for my emotions to catch up. It was a difficult time, but we overcame it together, and our bond has only grown stronger since then. Now, I know that no matter how it started, my love for my son is deep and true. It is a love that has been forged in the crucible of adversity, a love that will endure for eternity.

So there you go, the crazy birth story where I legitimately did not care about my newborn for a while because I was so zapped from labor. Maybe I’m a terrible mom, but those painkillers mejor kicked in real good after the delivery! It’s not just about the difficult start we had. It’s about finding our way to each other, about the love that grows in its own time, and about sharing this so other moms might see a part of their own stories in mine. If you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone.

Namita Aggarwal

I'm a devoted full-time mom and part-time blogger, passionate about nurturing my 4-year-old and expressing myself through writing. Amidst the whirlwind of motherhood, I steal moments to immerse myself in the world of words and ideas. Through my blog and online communities, I find solace, knowledge, and connection with fellow parents. Balancing caregiving and writing fuels my growth and brings fulfillment. As a reader, I value the power of shared experiences and wisdom found in blogs. I am also an art person, and I take art classes for kids, allowing me to nurture their creativity and explore the world of colors and shapes together. Let's embark on this digital journey together, celebrating the joys and navigating the challenges of parenthood while embracing the artistic side of life.

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