When my step-daughter gave birth to C. a few months ago, I know everyone was wondering how I felt about it. Secretly I worried I wouldn't love this baby the way I loved her older son (who I love). I won't lie- I breathed a sigh of relief when it was confirmed he was a boy. I didn't know if I could handle a girl.
I didn't buy things as early as I did with her first. I was cautious. I didn't push myself to feel something that I wasn't feeling. It was OK to be standoffish. I felt like once I saw him I would love him.
And I did.
When he was born I got to hold him right away, and he was precious. I did love him. But I wasn't in love with him like I was with his brother.
I didn't feel that deep connection that I felt with her other son. With M. it's as if he was my own child. I love him deeply. He fills my soul with joy. It was like that since the moment he was born. Probably before he was born, if I really think about it. I've always loved him. We may not share blood, but he is no less mine. I hoped to feel that with C., but it wasn't quite that. I loved him. That I knew. But I didn't fall in love with him the way I had fallen for his uncle and brother.
Jen had a c-section, so I took the week off from work to help her out. I looked forward to spending the time with them. Glad I had a chance to know C. better.
I was alone with him the first time when he was three days old.
It wasn't a conscious decision. I didn't think about it, it just happened. As I held him, and looked down at him and breathed in his sweet smell I could literally feel the internal wall I had built crumbling. I felt myself falling in love with him. My heart swelled at the thought of him. He snuggled into me, and I just melted. Any fears I had about not bonding with him were forgotten.
He was mine. He is mine.
I kissed him on the top of the head and told him I loved him. And I meant it with all my heart.