Updated: Jan. 5, 2016
Originally Published: March 3, 2013
I have to be honest: I’m not fond of the infant stage—specifically, the ages of zero to twelve months. Before I became a parent, I had a strong aversion to babies, and to an extent, I still do. Whenever someone would hand me a baby, I would freeze, arms outstretched like a zombie, as if I were about to hold the most repulsive creature imaginable. I would break into a sweat and feel nauseous.
When my first child arrived, I managed to cope for about two weeks without any negative feelings about her baby ways. I was riding the high of new motherhood, fueled by adrenaline, Oxytocin, and sheer panic. But then the family visits dwindled, my partner returned to work, and I was left alone with this little being.
My postpartum hormones plummeted, and the reality of endless diaper changes set in. I felt like a milk-producing machine, struggling to provide enough nourishment for my child. The smell of formula reminded me of dog food, and the laundry piled up with dirty onesies. The baby cried, often leaving me puzzled about the cause. My mind was consumed with thoughts like, “I’m bored. I feel trapped. I’m utterly exhausted. When does this baby go to sleep?”
I’ve always envied those mothers who claim to fall in love with their babies the moment they first see them. It seems like this beautiful bond between mother and child is portrayed in every advertisement, TV show, and parenting book. Meanwhile, I find myself confessing that I’m not exactly enamored with my baby—it feels like admitting to a sin.
Of course, let me clarify: Yes, I love my daughter and wouldn’t change anything about my experience. But I simply don’t like babies, and here’s why:
- Breastfeeding: The struggles are real—leaky, chafed nipples, engorged breasts, and blocked ducts. Need I say more?
- Projectile Poop: I was not prepared for poop that could launch across a room. It’s a whole new level of messiness.
- Sleep Issues: Babies don’t sleep when you want them to. My daughter could nap for five glorious hours in the afternoon but would only sleep for two at night. Attempts to fix her day/night mix-up only made things worse.
- Fragility: I constantly feared I’d break her bones just by holding her incorrectly or that I’d suffocate her with a poorly wrapped swaddle.
- Communication Barriers: Babies can’t express their needs clearly, so it’s a guessing game with every cry—do they need a diaper change, a bottle, or simply some tummy time?
- Limited Enjoyment: They can be amusing or adorable for a fleeting moment before reverting to their usual needs—hunger, discomfort, or fatigue.
- Alien Appearance: Let’s be honest—most babies look like little aliens. Mine certainly did.
- Public Meltdowns: Babies crying in restaurants is a nightmare. It’s embarrassing and frustrating. I’d rather eat a bowl of cereal at home than deal with that.
- Car Seat Challenges: Baby car seats are like rocket science. They’re a hassle to install, and once you finally do, the baby is usually screaming to get out.
- Stranger Interaction: Everyone feels the need to touch babies, which means unsolicited conversations with me in public places. I’m not a fan of random strangers cooing over my child.
So, what’s so great about babies?
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Summary: This candid reflection expresses the author’s discomfort with the baby stage of parenting. It highlights the challenges of breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, and the anxiety of caring for a fragile infant. The author acknowledges the love for their child but admits that the experience is more exhausting and less romantic than portrayed in mainstream culture.