I desperately want to love her. But I don’t know how

You should be feeling something. Joy, love, connection. What kind of a mother feels nothing? You are a failure. You’ve failed your daughter. She’s just been born, and already you’re a terrible mother. Why did you ever think you could be different?

I sit with my week-old daughter Baila in my arms. Excited babble of family and friends fill the room. But all that I hear is a thundering voice of condemnation. Every time I look at the baby and I don’t feel what I should, the voice screeches. Every time she doesn’t respond to my attempts to calm her, the gavel bangs.

I desperately want to love her.

But I don’t know how.

You just need to get out alone, I tell myself. It’s too intense for anyone to be with a newborn all day. I call my sister to watch Baila, and I go to the mall alone. But the voices follow me; even more deafening than at home.

You’re just like your mother was. Leaving your baby. Neglecting her. Being selfish. Running away from your children. Your baby will end up like you. Emotionally deprived, empty, bereft. A lifetime of pain and loneliness. You should know better.

But I know nothing. I change diapers and wash her tiny limbs. But no one taught me how to love.

Over and over, I search inside me. But I come up empty. How does every other mother do it without trying? My mind obsesses. What is enough, what is too little?

If she cries, it’s because I’m not doing it right. If she looks at me, she’s telling me that she knows how terrible I am. She’s a reflection of my failure.