Not read the thread but please be kind to yourself!
Sometimes love is immediate, sometimes it takes ages to grow. I definitely remember in the early weeks after DS I was just about ready to leave him under a bush and be done with it all.
He’s 20 now, and I have, admittedly, periodically regretted not leaving him under a bush as a newborn (especially years 13-15
) but I do love him, and he loves me back.
Babies can’t really show you that they love you for ages, and it can be hard to love someone who pukes and shits and screams and can’t even tell you what they actually want from you.
Couple that with the hormonal upheaval and lack of sleep and relentless pressure from well meaning but annoying relatives and honestly, it seems more rational to me to feel indifferent to a baby, rather than absolute love for one.
Looking back I suppose it was around 2.5-3 that my eldest had enough personality, humour and communications skills to be a person in his own right rather than a generic baby. He’s really rather fabulous now, and I’m glad he exists in the world. Still a pain in the arse at times, mind you.
Lockdown makes everything harder than usual but you really seem like you’d benefit from a bit more time and space to be who you were pre baby. Is there anything at all you could carve out some time for yourself? Even if it’s a just a regular glass of wine at the end of a friend’s 2 metre long garden? Bike ride round the local parks with the wind in your hair? Even just doing the food shop in person on your own with no time restraints might help.
Honestly, it sounds to me like a combo of PND and natural lack of maternal instincts. One can be dealt with with some professional support and the other will become less and less important as your kid grows up and you develop a relationship based on two personalities, rather than trying to fill a job title that is largely just stereotypes and relentless responsibility.
The good thing about kids is that unlike, say, dogs, their needs change with time. Before you know it your baby will be getting their own cereal and asking you a hundred questions an hour about trains or spongebob bloody squarepants.
And then, if he’s anything like mine, he’ll fuck off fo uni leaving you sitting in a pile of dirty laundry and crumbs, but finally able to plan your dream holiday for 1 (or 2, if you eventually forgive your husband for the baby thing).
This isn’t your forever.