For months, I'd been dreading this. For weeks, I'd been trying to put it off. But now it was time. Forty weeks and three days and a walk in the warm July sunshine brought contractions fast, coming one on top of another.
I was learning to breathe as I'd never breathed, and my breathing became a moaning song. There was no room for fear, no other goal but passing through these five hours of promised pain. In seven relieving pushes, one beautiful squirming dream emerged into my world with a tiny cry of surprise and I held life in my arms.
I passed into motherhood knowing I would fail sometimes, but I was unprepared for the challenges I would face. Piper found more personality than most babies her age. Too soon, she grasped her own identity and became more than I thought she was, more than I was ready for her to be.
I was advised to set boundaries, to let her cry it out, to force her to concede my authority over her. But Piper wouldn't be controlled. She completely panicked if we tried to make her cry it out. Spankings were irrelevant and counterproductive.
Something was wrong...
Read more of my most recent article at Ungrind.