My daughter’s name is Laura. A beautiful child, a special soul.
I did not know she would be a prisoner of addiction. No mother would.
I was ill after giving birth. I did not hold my baby for three days. By this time she was content to be fed by a bottle. My inexperience did not tell me I could have taken over and breast-fed her. A bonding opportunity lost? I do not think so, I love her dearly and she loves me.
After spending our first two weeks together in hospital we went home. At first, I was nervous of her. Was I doing everything right? I soon cottoned on to motherhood, the joys it offered. I relaxed in the part.
My baby did not like to be held tight, to be embraced or cuddled. I held her as if in a hammock, my arm under her back for support to keep her body away from mine. Was this need of hers for separation an indication of things to come? A prelude to addiction?