Here I am at 40, surrounded by friends who seem to be having babies at an astonishing rate—more frequently than my 10-year-old can whip up a friendship bracelet. Each time someone shares a photo of their adorable, pudgy infant on social media, there’s an avalanche of comments from women declaring they’ve got “baby fever” or that their “ovaries are on fire,” or that they’re ready to “snatch that baby.” Some even express a bizarre desire to consume the baby. Seriously, what?
I experienced a fleeting moment of baby fever with each of my kids, just from the time I hoped for a pregnancy until I actually conceived. But once I had my little ones, I was done with the baby phase. Even when they were infants, I loved them dearly—I have videos of myself flailing and squealing in delight as my son clapped his tiny hands. Sure, a toddler taking their first steps is about the cutest thing in the universe, and a baby’s laughter is pure music, but let’s be real—babies are a ton of work. They have the most irregular sleep patterns imaginable, consume food like it’s a buffet, and their diaper situations can get outrageous. And don’t even get me started on the constant need for physical contact. I’m someone who cherishes my alone time; being swarmed by tiny hands isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. Plus, who doesn’t love a solid eight hours of sleep?
Strangely enough, despite the effort they require, babies can be incredibly dull. Yes, they’re undeniably cute, but after a mere ten minutes, you find yourself thinking, “What now? Should we solve a crossword or perhaps watch a documentary?” But alas, babies aren’t interested in such activities; their focus is solely on milk and brightly colored objects. They’re not the best at holding conversations either, given their limited vocabulary.
So, the whole baby fever phenomenon eludes me. Honestly, every stage my kids have gone through after babyhood has been my favorite. I’ll admit that while I was deep in the baby stage, I thought it was the best time. But that’s just the strange magic of motherhood—hormones can distort your perception. Once my kids grew out of that forgettable stage, I discovered the joys of sleep, meaningful conversations, and their newfound independence—like the fact that I haven’t folded laundry in years. Babies can’t help with that, folks.
I had children because I wanted kids, not infants. While I appreciated their babyhood while it lasted—thanks to what felt like a hormonal spell—each subsequent stage has far surpassed the baby phase in enjoyment. For instance, two years ago was my favorite time with my kids, and now, the present moment seems even better. If you ask me next year, I’ll likely say the same thing.
My son is now 13, and while this age comes with its share of teenage angst, I’m constantly amazed by how fully formed he is as a person. Thirteen years ago, he was a crying baby with a slightly misshapen head from being in the birth canal. Now, he’s a tall, quirky kid who plays the piano by ear. How incredible is that? This experience is a million times more enjoyable than dealing with an infant.
And then there’s my 10-year-old daughter. She’s one of the kindest individuals I know, maybe a bit too kind. She might be the one to catch “baby fever” someday, given her sweet nature. Recently, she’s been mastering card magic tricks, which is utterly fascinating. Here’s this half-grown human who once was just a zygote inside me and is now dedicating her time to perfecting her skills in card shuffling and counting with a level of patience I can’t even muster. While babies are adorable, my ten-year-old is performing card tricks and creating her own jokes. What a marvel!
At one time, I worried that my lack of affection for babies made me odd, as if there was something inherently wrong with me. I thought that being a woman meant feeling an overwhelming maternal instinct every time I encountered a baby. But I’ve come to realize that the emotional response to seeing infants exists on a spectrum, just like everything else about us, and I’m not ashamed of my feelings.
I genuinely enjoy spending time with my children and look forward to our interactions in a way I never did when they were babies. Of course, I loved my babies with every fiber of my being, but I dreaded the long, monotonous days filled with diaper changes, breastfeeding, and endless babbling. Yes, there were blissful moments, but there was also a lot of “when will this day end?” boredom.
So yes, when I see a cute baby, I definitely experience a fleeting moment of “Oh my gosh, that baby is adorable.” But I never feel compelled to have another baby or even babysit. I mean, I’d help out a friend if necessary, but if I do, I’ll likely be pretending to be engaged after the first hour, no matter how adorable the little one is—and that’s the honest truth.
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In summary, while I appreciate the cuteness of babies, my true joy lies in the unique stages of my children’s development, each surpassing the last. I embrace the challenges and rewards of motherhood without longing for another round of babyhood.