As I approach 40, it seems like my friends are on a baby-making spree, popping out little ones faster than my niece can knit scarves. Every time someone shares a photo of their adorable, pudgy baby on social media, the comments section explodes with women claiming they have “baby fever,” their “ovaries are ready to burst,” or that they’re about to “snatch that baby away.” Some even joke about wanting to eat the little one. Seriously, what?
I experienced baby fever for about two seconds with each of my kids—just the brief period from wishing to get pregnant to actually being pregnant. After that, I was pretty much done with the whole baby thing. Sure, I cherished my babies, and I still do. I’ve got videos of me squealing in delight because my son managed to clap his tiny hands. And yes, a toddler taking their first wobbly steps is undeniably adorable. Not to mention, a baby’s laughter is music to my ears. But let’s be real: babies are a ton of work.
They keep bizarre hours, eat what feels like 50 times a day, and produce an equal amount of mess. Plus, they constantly want to be held. I’m someone who values my alone time and prefers not being swarmed by tiny hands. And let’s not forget about sleep—ever tried getting a solid eight hours with a baby in the house? It’s blissful when it happens, but it’s rare.
Ironically, despite all the effort they require, babies can also be incredibly dull. Sure, they’re cute, but after the first ten minutes, you find yourself wondering, “What now?” We’ve already played peek-a-boo and made silly faces. What’s the next move? Unfortunately, babies don’t care about crosswords or documentaries; their interests are limited to milk and brightly colored objects. And conversing with them? Forget it—how do you chat with someone who knows only a handful of words?
I genuinely don’t understand the baby fever phenomenon. Each new stage my kids enter becomes my favorite, far surpassing the baby phase. I admit, I thought I’d love the baby stage the most, but that was just the hormonal magic of motherhood at play. Once my kids moved past the tediousness of being babies, I discovered the joys of sleep, meaningful conversations, and the ability to have them do things for themselves—or even help me out. I haven’t folded laundry in years. Babies can’t do laundry, folks.
I wanted kids, not just babies. While I enjoyed their infancy, I’ve found every stage since has brought more joy. For instance, two years ago, my son was in a phase I adored, but now he’s in a new one that’s even better. At 13, he’s full of personality—quirky, intelligent, and kind. He even plays the piano by ear! It blows my mind to think that this remarkable kid was once a crying baby with a cone-shaped head.
My ten-year-old daughter is equally fascinating. She’s one of the most compassionate people I know, almost to a fault. She might just be the type to experience “baby fever” herself. Lately, she’s been teaching herself magic tricks with cards, and I’m in awe of her dedication. Here’s this half-grown human who once was a zygote inside me, now exploring the art of card shuffling with a level of patience I could never muster. Babies are cute, but my ten-year-old can perform card tricks and create her own jokes. What a miracle!
At one point, I thought my lack of baby obsession made me odd, as though I lacked a fundamental nurturing instinct that should ignite at the sight of a baby. But I’ve come to realize that the urge to coo over infants exists on a spectrum, just like everything else about us, and I’m perfectly fine with my perspective.
I genuinely enjoy spending time with my kids and actually look forward to our moments together now more than I did when they were babies. I adored my little ones, absolutely, but I dreaded the never-ending cycle of diaper changes, feedings, and aimless baby talk. Sure, there were blissful moments, but they were often overshadowed by the sheer boredom of those long days.
So yes, when I spot a cute baby, I do feel an “Oh my gosh, that baby is adorable” sensation. I’m not devoid of feelings! But I never feel tempted to have another baby or even babysit. If I do babysit for a friend, I must confess that after the first hour, my interest will likely wane, no matter how cute the little one is. That’s just the honest truth.
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In summary, while I appreciate the cuteness of babies, my real love lies in the evolving stages of my children’s lives, where each moment brings new joys and experiences that far outweigh the fleeting charm of infancy.
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