Unconditional love was not instantaneous with the birth of Oren Miller’s kids
I can’t imagine anything worse than that. I can’t imagine anything worse than holding your newborn baby in the middle of the night, going through the routine of getting him back to sleep, then accidentally catching your reflection in the mirror and seeing a monster looking back. And I can’t imagine anything worse than looking at that monster for a day, a week, a year—never knowing if the self-loathing would ever end. Not knowing if the monster is here to stay.
♦◊♦
I know I shouldn’t watch TV with my girl. She’s almost 3-years-old, and it’s one of those rare nice winter days in Baltimore. We should be playing soccer in the park, or riding a bicycle for the first time. We should be walking the dog together, or even just driving around with the windows down. Anything but TV. But that’s what she wants to do, and me–well, I’m having the time of my life. It’s actually colder in the house than it is outside, so I put a blanket on both of us. I turn on Netflix, and I play the next episode of Strawberry Shortcake. My daughter leans her head on my shoulder, and says, “I love you.”
A friend of mine was recently asked what he felt like the moment his daughter was born.
“Instant, unconditional love,” he said.
When my boy was born, I resented him. He was a stranger who had made the woman I loved suffer for 42(!) weeks, and that’s all he was to me. He came out of my wife’s belly, peed on the nurse, cried, and a few minutes later, the nurse left, and nothing made sense. Where the hell was that instant, unconditional love? They told me I would love! They said it was going to happen immediately and forever! He was my own flesh and blood! What kind of a monster was I?
I spent two weeks like that, certain I was evil, when it suddenly happened. It was just after a late night feeding. He finished nursing, but started crying again. That was my cue. Walk around, rock him back and forth and up and down, turn the water on, sing… I knew the drill.
But this time, he did something new. Whereas before, he would stop crying and go back to a deep, two-hour sleep, this time he just smiled at me. He was fully awake, and fully conscious, and I had never been happier. Never felt more alive. Suddenly, I had a son. He was my beautiful son, whom I now loved more than anything else in the world, and everything made sense.
Two years later, just before my daughter was born, people were telling me things would be different this time. With second babies, they said, you’re no longer afraid of the unknown, which frees you to love immediately and unconditionally. And we were having a girl this time. What were we worried about? Dads instantly fall in love with their girls! It’s a dad-daughter thing!
“Prepare to love like you’ve never loved before!”
So I prepared myself, and I waited.
This time, it didn’t take two weeks. After two months, it still hadn’t happened. So I kept waiting. By now, I knew I wasn’t a monster, but a victim of misinformation. I wasn’t emotionally dead, just emotionally stalled. And I was ready to wait for the rest of my life.
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She took her first steps at 14 months. I stood her up two feet away from me, and let go. She looked at me, then she looked at her legs, wobbled a bit, and started marching. She made two steps, then dove into my arms the happiest she’d ever been. And after 14 months, everything suddenly clicked. I caught her! I saved her! She trusted me, and I was there. My wait was over.
I could do a lot of important or beneficial things with my daughter right now, instead of spending this nice day indoors. Yet I don’t feel guilt or regret, because my daughter and I are sharing a blanket, and because she’s leaning her head on my shoulder, and just when it seems like things can’t get any better, she tells me that she loves me. I kiss her head, and I pet her hair, and I tell her, “I love you too. Another episode of Strawberry Shortcake?”
—first appeared on A Blogger and a Father
I’m a little late to this article but I wanted to throw my support in the ring too. I was actually quite surprised myself how long that unconditional love took to build. The first time I heard my son cried I did experience a change, I felt a sudden feeling of great responsability. Not the crushing kind, but empowering. At that instant I felt like I could rip the ears off a Gundar and take on the whole Empire myself. But love…that took much longer, although I don’t remember when. I am on my third, she’s only 2 months, and… Read more »
I also felt great responsibility, but for me it was more of the debilitating, wish-I-could-crouch-in-a-corner kind. My wife was out of it because of the shot, so everything was up to me, and I had no idea what I was doing. But hey, he’s 5 now, so I must have done something wrong.
Thanks!
I guess Im lucky, because in all 3 cases with my boys I felt that unconditional love come out the moment they were born. I was there, I watched them come out, and held each one in my arms. From personal experience I find that most parents–in my situation, young parents–don’t get that “click” simply because their lives are too centred around themselves–what I want, how I’ll feel, what will I do. One simply cannot experience unconditional love if all that ever mattered to that person was themselves–which is what plagues us here in North America, too much “me, me… Read more »
Maybe you’re right. I think caring about others, and feeling responsibility for others influences the way we end up feeling about them.
How wonderful to read about this topic from an unapologetic perspective! I had a very similar experience, as a young mother, when my son was born. I was the first person I had ever heard discuss this ‘limbo’ period where I felt duty, responsibility and warmth towards my child, but I did not feel a connection or a passionate sense of lifelong love. Unlike you, I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that I felt true love for my son, but it came with time. When I share this story with others, albeit somewhat timidly, I’m always somewhat relieved when they… Read more »
Thanks, Elise, and I’m really glad you liked it. I loved your comment.
I actually mentioned in a comment on my blog, that I can’t imagine how harder it is for women who feel this way. I think most men have high expectations about this “click,” but society in general will accept a delayed emotional response from fathers. Moms, on the other hand, are expected to bond with the baby during the first trimester. And if a mother has fed her baby for the first time and still feels nothing–well, that means it’s time for the pills…
well said Oren! This was excellent! Big thanks to Robert Duffer for sharing our link as well…
Thanks, Lance!
(And I loved the NYC dads post too!)
And here’s another take, same topic, posted same day, at our friends at NYC Dads group. http://www.nycdadsgroup.com/2013/03/when-will-i-fall-in-love-with-my-child.html
I’m glad dads can talk about this openly–it’ll soothe a lot of fathers of newborns wondering what is wrong with them as dads.
Thanks, Matt. I liked your site, and the piece. I don’t know about blue cheese, but there are a ton of truths in this discussion, especially: how do you love someone you don’t even know? It’s interesting what you and Oren are talking about: no matter how involved we are while the child is in utero, most dads I know have a similar feeling of awe, wonder, and fear at their newborn. The love we’re talking about develops in short time. How much of it is biological, that our every decision has not been affecting this fetus like it does… Read more »
I know exactly what you’re saying, Oren. I think it takes some time for dads to bond with their kids. If you’d like to read another take on the subject, check out http://fieldnotesfromfatherhood.com/2012/07/30/who-loves-ya-baby-the-ins-outs-ups-and-downs-of-paternal-love/
A great piece on a difficult subject, one many dads are reluctant to discuss. Well done.
Hey, great post. And thanks!