Congratulations on your new arrival! I hope your birthing or adoption experience was everything you hoped for. May your little one sleep peacefully, and isn’t it delightful to dress them in adorable outfits? Capturing those moments in photographs is a joy, and hearing those sweet baby sounds—like the classic “Goo”—is simply heart-melting. But let’s be honest: the fragrance of a newborn is incredible until it’s not so pleasant anymore, right? I truly sympathize if you’re feeling exhausted; I can relate. In fact, if a friend has a baby, I often find myself blocking their updates.
You’ve shared that precious hospital snapshot with the caption, “Meet our little Alex! Born at this precise time, weighing a healthy amount!” and I see likes and comments pouring in. Everyone is beaming, sending their congratulations, but I remain silent. I gaze at your baby, who is undeniably cute and fresh, but then I quickly look away. If I linger too long, I might just start crying. So, I hit snooze and block you.
The Reality of Not Having Another Baby
When my youngest child was born, I found myself in bed, overwhelmed and emotional, pleading with my partner, “Is he really our last?” He reassured me that we would have more children. But due to various health concerns—none of which are particularly thrilling to recount—I can’t have another baby. We always envisioned a large family, a dream influenced by our upbringing and our genuine love for children. I admire big families and often tell parents how fortunate they are.
Yet I’ll never have that experience again. Three kids is my limit. I don’t want to see photos of your baby because they serve as a painful reminder of what I can’t have.
Blocking for My Own Sanity
I wholeheartedly embraced motherhood when my children were babies. I dedicated myself to their care, even leaving graduate school to become a babywearing educator. I navigated the challenges of breastfeeding for extended periods and became adept at multitasking while caring for my little ones. I was deeply invested in that phase of my life, and I was good at it. But now, I block you because I understand that I’ll never reclaim that certainty and ease. My children are now eleven, nine, and seven. I still hold my youngest for cuddles, but he’s quickly off to play with LEGOs.
Most days, my biggest cuddle partner is my loyal German Shepherd, who comforts me when I’m feeling down. I block your baby pictures because they remind me of what I long for but can no longer experience.
You Might Think I’m Being Selfish
You may think I should be content with the children I have, but I’m allowed to grieve the family I envisioned. I once thought I would have many babies, but that’s not my reality. Your joyful posts only deepen my sadness. While I mostly find joy in my current life with my three boys, seeing your baby photos unexpectedly hits me hard. I don’t want to experience that emotional punch while scrolling through social media.
Yes, I know that focusing on my family’s happiness is vital. We plan to foster and adopt older children in the future, which aligns with our values. But those children won’t be infants, and that’s why I choose to block you. Your adorable images remind me of the lost opportunities, and I’m just not over it.
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To sum up, while I cherish my family and the adventures we share, it’s hard to see others experience the joys of infancy that I can no longer have. I wish you all the happiness with your little ones, but for my own peace of mind, it’s best for me to step back.
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