All I can say is that nothing prepared me to become a mother. I had been preparing it for what seemed like ages (approximately nine months), reading different books such as: Making Babies: Stumbling into Motherhood, and The Baby Owner’s Manual. I had also held conversations with my mum, aunties, and even some of my friends about being a mother. Of course, they gave me their different experiences, and how they managed it (Evans & Aronson, 2006). What was interesting was that even though for some, they described it as a disaster, and wished they had done things differently, they remembered the period of being new mothers with nostalgia. It gave me confidence. I felt that if they had managed it, then I would, in fact, I felt that I was going to be a great mom because it is obvious that I was going to love my child.
When my son Josh was placed in my hands, I was overwhelmed with emotions. I stared at him, tears rolling down my eyes, thinking that he was just a beautiful baby. It was such a peaceful time, I did not want anything to ruin that moment, and then it happened. The baby began to cry, and I was at the end of my wits of what I was supposed to do (Ford, 2010). I first looked at my husband, James, and then at the nurse who informed that I needed to breastfeed the baby as he
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How come my mother had been able to successfully soothe the baby, while I had tried my best and he had continued crying? Was the baby rejecting me? My mother may have sensed what was going on in my mind, and she began telling me stories of how I was a stubborn baby, and it seemed I cried for no reason (Hahn, 2016). She assured me that it was going to get better with time, that I was going to get the hang of it eventually and I would remember days such as these and laugh them off because of how I had gotten so worked up over what I can term as being essentially