...my name is martinez

I love my daughter.
But its not like i thought it would be. Like they say it would be.

When the two lines appeared on that pink and white stick i was overwhelmed and more in shock than any specific emotion.

At an early doctors appointment, the first time i saw the tadpole doing flips all around the bubble of my uterus, i was surprised at the moisture that came to my eyes.

Even with all the kicks, somersaults, jabs, and alien movements over the next 6 months, i felt that whatever it was was a foreign body that better not get ruined while in my belly. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea she was my daughter.

As weeks 38, 39, 40, and 41 passed without a single hint of contractions any feelings towards the baby girl i might have developed faded into a big mass of belly with achy and itchy stretch marks. There was no baby. Only pregnancy. Forever.

Finally, i went into labor. Finally a slippery, red, long-limbed human being was laid on the outside of my belly and chest. My doula took pictures of that moment. I just look exhausted. All my feelings were being used up on being grateful the pushing and uncontrollable muscle contractions were over, i didnt have any left for the supposed overwhelming love i was supposed to feel. Israel told me she didnt look like the alien I had warned him about, she was beautiful. I wasnt sure i completely agreed with him.

The first feeling i had about my daughter was "i am going to take care of her" nothing romantic or sweet. Just down to business.

Now she is a few days past a month old.  I am making her my own. I realized today i miss her in my arms when she sleeps longer than usual. I see the funny faces she makes when i close my eyes.  For me, i cant say i feel the maternal, immediate, goggly-eyed, drooling adoration for my daughter that is supposed to switch on the minute i laid eyes on her, if not sooner. The good news is that i have grown past the "its all business" feeling of the first days.