By Tavia Green Smith
Guest Post
Everything was supposed to go perfect.
I was supposed to have an easy induction and progressive labor. Then, I would show my strength as I pushed my baby out, with my husband looking on proudly and cheering me on. I’d hear her beautiful first cry and I’d cry from joy and relief.
Then, I’d cuddle and nestle her in my arms and breastfeed her with that magical milk made just for her. My perfect daughter and I would bond and fall in love as I healed.
None. Of. That. Happened.