Love at first sight? NO!!!
When Karen told me to look down to see Elon for the first time, here were my random thoughts:
“He has hair!!! I was bald when I was born”
“Is he normal? Does he have any birthmark on his face?”
“Ok let me see the hands, the fingers, are they complete?”
“What about the legs and toes?”
“Did we really have a boy? I heard some gender reveals are wrong”
“Good he is crying. I have read that crying is an important sign for newborns”
“Is he cute?”
After they wiped Elon off with whatever blood or liquid he was in while inside my belly, Elon was immediately placed on my chest for “skin to skin”. Here’s what I thought:
“Oh man, I have a son. His eyes are open. Can he see me?”
“Poo. Poo. There’s some dark poo in my son’s butt. Like really sticky poo”
“Can anybody take the poo off him please? I currently can’t move right now. My legs are still spread out”
“Shit shit he is slipping off my chest. How do I properly hold a newborn?”
“I should have gone to a class about this”
When they took Elon away from me, here’s my thoughts:
“Good I need to wipe off all the poo from my arms”
“Where’s Elon now? Where’s Edward? There, is he still recording?”
“I want Elon back. I need to take his first photo ever”
“Is Elon clean now? Can I take him please?”
So was it love at first sight? It was not. It was a gradual kind of love that sinks in every time you see him. It is the kind of love you let yourself feel again and again until you believe it is true and it came from you. It is the kind of love that was planned by God for you to feel although you did not think about its possibility – at least not yet. It is the kind of love that makes you want to volunteer as a tribute for him (yes like Katniss). It is the kind of love that you would want to feel the pain instead of him feeling it. It is the kind of love that makes you crazy because all you wanted is the best for him and you want to do everything right. And it is that kind of love that makes him look the cutest in your eyes, regardless. I guess I understand the kind of love mothers have for their children. The kind that forgives although hurt. The kind that do not ask questions but only gives out more love.
And ever since, I have held him day and night. Kissed him until he cried even harder. Loved him more and more. It’s that love.