St Louis, MO
I knew I would love my baby. Coming from two very loving parents, with a sister who adored her four children, a brother and sister-in-law who worshipped their two daughters, I was also blessed with six gorgeous nieces and nephews and two great grandnieces. I knew I would love my baby. I even stayed pregnant a month late, finally induced on 9 months from the date my doctor told me I was pregnant! Labor was easy enough for the first hour or two, at which point, I began threatening to buy street drugs if they didn't give me that damned epidural!
Finally the anesthesiologist arrived and told me it was too soon - at which point I offered him anything in the world he'd like in return for that needle jab my spine. He finally relented and after fourteen hours of labor they decided to do a C-section. They got her out, let me kiss her, then whisked her away before they let me hold her. Thirty minutes later in the recovery room, the nurse walked in with a loudly screaming baby. Where was that sweet angel I had envisioned? This was one pissed off infant. As the nurse handed her into my arms, I looked at her and said, "Hello my beautiful girl - I'm your Mom." She immediately stopped crying, looked at me, recognizing my voice, and .... We knew each other! We cuddled and loved. As I said, I knew I would love her, but never understood the rush of love I would feel. My Eciah was named Bridget!