Why I Don’t Like Babies (And Why That Doesn’t Make Me a Bad Mom)
I have a confession: I don’t really like babies.
There, I said it.
Not in the “I hate children” kind of way — I adore my kids, I’d move mountains for them. But the baby stage? The constant noise, the endless crying, the sleepless nights that blend into each other like a bad fever dream — that part of motherhood? I could skip it entirely and never feel like I missed out.
If you’ve ever felt guilty for not loving every single stage of motherhood, especially the baby stage, you’re not alone.
The Truth About Babies (And Why They Drive Me Crazy)
Babies, when you think about it, are like adorable little terrorists. They demand everything from you — physically, mentally, emotionally. You feed them, change them, rock them, soothe them, and get nothing but a mysterious scream in return. Occasionally, you’re rewarded with a giggle or a sleepy smile that makes your heart melt, but the rest of the time? You’re just surviving.
Maybe it’s my upbringing — I grew up in a home where yelling and chaos were the norm, so overstimulation and loud noises trigger me more than most. Or maybe it’s my ADHD, which makes constant sensory overload feel unbearable. I don’t like clubs, I don’t like loud music, I don’t even like people talking over each other. So naturally, life with babies feels like a nonstop concert I didn’t buy tickets for.
Childhood Dreams vs. Reality
What’s funny is, I used to love babies. As a little girl, my toy box was full of dolls. I was the kid who wanted five children — I said it out loud, proudly, in my twenties.
Then I had my first baby.
Suddenly, five sounded insane. One, maybe two, felt more realistic.
Fast-forward a few years and we decided to try for that second child — and life threw us a curveball. Twins. Two boys.
And let me tell you — twins are not “double the fun.” They’re double the diapers, double the crying, double the chaos. When I ask other twin parents how they do it, most just shrug and say, “It doesn’t get easier, it just gets different.”
They’re right. It’s not easier. It’s just… different hard.
The Brutal First Year
Our twins are only 10 months old as I’m writing this, but it feels like we’ve been in survival mode for a decade. The days are long, and the years are fast, they say — but I’ve felt every single day of these past ten months.
Sleep deprivation is a beast. Coffee doesn’t cut it. Wine puts me to sleep halfway through a glass. Xanax is the only thing that hits harder than my exhaustion.
Motherhood in this phase feels like existing in a haze of chaos and love, guilt and gratitude, rage and tenderness — all at the same time.
The Phrase That Defines Motherhood
My mother-in-law once said something when my daughter was born that has stuck with me ever since:
“When you have kids, you don’t get to do what you want to do when you want to do it.”
At the time, I laughed. I thought, “Sure, but I’ll figure it out.”
Spoiler alert: she was right.
Now I can’t even take a bathroom break without a tiny human yelling “Mom!” from the other side of the door. I can’t hop on a conference call without someone needing a snack, a toy, or a diaper change. The phrase “work-life balance” feels like a cruel joke some single person made up.
At least babies don’t steal your French fries or demand your ice cream — that joy belongs to the older kids.
Finding Hope in the Chaos
But here’s the thing: I’m starting to see the light.
My oldest is five now, and she’s genuinely fun to be around. She dresses herself, brushes her teeth (sometimes), and has conversations that make me laugh. She’s curious, insightful, and asks “why” about everything — and instead of it feeling annoying, it feels like a miracle that she wants to know the world through me.
It gives me hope that this hard season won’t last forever.
Babies may not be my jam, but I’m realizing I’m a great mom once they start turning into little people with personalities and independence.
You’re Not a Bad Mom If You Don’t Love Every Stage
So here’s my message to every mom out there who’s struggling through the baby phase, who feels guilty for not loving it, who cries in the bathroom because everyone said this would be “the best time of your life” — you’re not broken. You’re not ungrateful. You’re human.
Motherhood doesn’t look the same for everyone. Some moms thrive on newborn snuggles. Others, like me, are counting down to the day when everyone can use the bathroom alone.
You don’t have to love every moment to love your kids deeply.
A Realistic Kind of Love
I love my kids more than life itself. I’d walk through fire for them — but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy every diaper blowout, every scream-filled nap time, every 2 a.m. feeding.
Real love isn’t about liking every second. It’s about showing up, exhausted and half-alive, again and again.
It’s about giving even when you’re empty, and still managing to find beauty somewhere in the mess.
It’s about hope — the kind that whispers, it won’t always be like this.
So, no, I’m not a “baby mom.” I probably never will be. But I am a damn good mom — and maybe one day, I’ll make a really great grandma.