As I sat in a meeting with my colleagues one afternoon, I asserted, “I can’t work with anyone younger than high school seniors.” It was spring, and the excited shouts from the baseball field echoed in the background. The sight of the sunlit lawn and freshly raked diamonds made it clear that the year was winding down. With spring break behind us, both students and teachers were starting to think about the next academic year—what classes to teach, which clubs to lead, and what schedules to anticipate. “I refuse to go back to teaching freshmen,” I reiterated, determined to make my case.
After years of engaging with 15-year-olds, whose moods often fluctuated with their hormones, I craved a classroom where the students had a bit more emotional stability. I needed at least half the class to remain composed when discussing Juliet’s nurse’s colorful remarks. I longed for a group with more experience under their belts.
Then, in a surprising twist, I found out I was pregnant. My experience with babies was practically non-existent—I was the youngest in my family, and the most exposure I had to children was through reading the Baby-Sitters Club series.
My husband was in the same boat. By the time we arrived at gatherings with our married friends, most were already parents. We felt out of place, awkward in our attempts to engage with their kids. We struggled to decipher toddler sign language and were baffled by the concept of a sippy cup. No one ever thought to ask us to babysit.
Even though we had longed for children, we were far from prepared for the reality of parenthood. It was akin to a child begging for a puppy without grasping the responsibilities of pet ownership. We envisioned the idyllic, rosy-cheeked baby, but when our son arrived prematurely, we were thrust into a whirlwind of emotions, with hardly any time to prepare for the storm ahead.
Let’s be real—who is truly ready for their first child? Describing sleep deprivation to someone who has never experienced it is like trying to explain the taste of chocolate to someone who has never eaten it.
I’ll be honest; I never had that magical moment. You know the one—the instant you lay eyes on your newborn and everything falls into place. For me, my son’s birth was overwhelming, filled with complications that distracted from any joy. A brief kiss on his wet head was all I managed before he was whisked away to the NICU.
Weeks passed before I could hold him properly, surrounded by a maze of wires and beeping machines. I felt terrified—intimidated by motherhood and convinced the machines were doing a better job than I was.
The infant stage was tough. It brought forth the nightmarish tales that seasoned mothers often share, but I was determined not to let fear consume me forever. As time went on, I transitioned from counting days to counting months and eventually years. Before I knew it, I found myself in a comfortable rhythm with my son.
Now, I teach my three kids, all of whom are still young enough to count on one hand. I guide them through the alphabet, numbers, and the importance of sincere apologies. While I traded Shakespeare for Llama Llama, I wouldn’t change a thing. I adore my kids for their unique quirks.
Yet, I still can’t say I love babies. The thought of returning to that stage of life doesn’t appeal to me. Some parents thrive on all things baby-related—the tiny outfits, the cuddly carriers, and the soft coos. But for me, I’m relieved to have moved on.
It’s important to remember that not every moment of parenting will be delightful. Just because you don’t relish the early stages doesn’t mean you won’t cherish the later ones (except maybe during puberty). It’s perfectly okay to voice your feelings and strategize with your partner about how to navigate through. Know that this phase is temporary. You will find your groove and learn along the way. You don’t have to love babies to be a wonderful mother.
If you’re seeking more insightful resources, check out this article on home insemination or explore this authority site for an in-depth look at the at-home insemination kit. For further guidance on pregnancy, visit the CDC’s resource.
In summary, being a good mother isn’t contingent on loving every stage of your child’s development. Embrace your feelings, create a plan, and know that you will find your way, even if the beginning isn’t what you expected.