That Magical Moment

When I was pregnant with Bubs, I fretted non stop. Apart from the usual is-my-baby-okay worries, I had a whole pile of other niggling questions. What kind of mommy would I be? How do I shelter him from all the bad things in the world? And that one question which I didn't dare voice out to anyone apart from Hubs for fear that I'd sound like a terrible mom even before my baby was born: how do I know if I love him?

Hubs kept assuring me "Of course you'll love him, he's your baby!"

I was still filled with self doubt. A little voice inside me whispered what if I don't love him? what if I can't bond with me?

Fast forward to week 39, when I first saw him: swaddled up in the blue, hospital issued fuzzy blanket with pudgy cheeks, a shock of thick, dark hair and that sweet, milky newborn smell, a rush of emotions flooded through me. A mixture of being in awe of that tiny, wonderful being in front of me, a ferocious mummy protectiveness, and yes, with it came along that magical moment: a whole and complete love.

Photos below of Bubs taken at a couple of weeks old. I couldn't stop staring at how tiny and perfect his fingers were and that satisfied, drunk on milk look after each feeding.