#76. I hope you don't think I'm a child-hating witch
If only you could read my inner monologue above my head like subtitles
Last week I wrote about conversations at baby showers, and something stuck out to me from the comments section: It’s not just me. Other women without children are worried about being perceived as a child-hating witch, too.
When I’m around children, I wish everyone could actually see what I’m thinking about, like subtitles would just magically appear in black and white above my head. I think some people might be really surprised if they knew.
If you could read my thoughts, I wonder if it would help other people understand me better. When I’m a little out of my element around your kids or at a baby shower, it’s not because I’m a self-centered witch. I really don’t hate kids, I promise. Just because I’m a little uncomfortable doesn’t mean I want to be somewhere else.
I’m worried what you think of me. Even the simplest things, like holding a baby, seem hard to me. I’m convinced I’m doing everything wrong. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to think I’m defective.
I wouldn’t pick this, but I’m really glad you did.
For the longest time, I felt so fucking grateful no one else could see inside my head. Now, I actually wish you could.
Picture me, at age 24. I’m wearing jeans and a leather jacket, sitting on my boss’s couch at her cool house in Los Angeles. She’s 35, the age I am now. She just had her first kid, a boy. I’ve never held a baby before. Never, not once.
At this point, I still think I want kids someday. I had never really thought about it. Having kids is “just what you do.” But I know I feel like an alien, an imposter.
She’s looking at me like I’m an incompetent, child-hating witch and I’m looking at her like she’s my boss and I better not fuck this up.
“Okay,” I say, blowing out a breath as I steel myself for this moment. I’ve known it’s coming my whole life, but it’s finally here. I’m going to hold a baby for the first time. “I think I’m ready.”
“You sure?” My boss says, laughing at me. “It’s really not that hard.” She moves to hand me the baby. His wriggling, hot, heavy body lands in my noodly arms. I am completely relieved I am already sitting down.
“Like this?” I say as I start to sweat. His bobblehead is resting on my arm. She backs away, looking at me like I’m a zoo animal. An attraction at a fair. Twenty-four year old female who has never held a baby! Get a look at this, you guys!
My mind starts to race.
Wow, I guess he’s heavier than I expected?
Don’t drop him don’t drop him don’t drop him
Watch the neck, oh my god, he’s so fragile.
Fuck.
I’m definitely doing this wrong.
Why is she looking at me like that?
Why is he looking at me like that?
He’s going to cry.
It’s my fault.
I need to give him back.
I knew I would be bad at this.
She’s going to laugh at me.
She’s going to fire me.
I can’t do this.
Why am I so bad at this?
“How has it taken you so long to hold a baby? Don’t you have any siblings? Or cousins? How old are you again?” She cocks her head to the side, like she’s seeing me for the first time.
Old enough where I should be able to do this without having a panic attack.
I’m not the right person to be doing this; I’m sorry.
I shouldn’t have done this.
I’m not ready.
God, what’s wrong with me?
Is it over yet?
Shouldn’t I have, like, a maternal instinct or something?
Where is it?
How much longer until I can give him back?
Oh fuck, he really looks like he’s about to cry.
He hates me.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
“I’m the youngest in my family,” I say instead.
Eventually, after watching me squirm for a few minutes, she takes her son back. I don’t work for her much longer.
I’ve come a long way in the decade since my first time. Some of my friends know me well enough now not to offer to have me hold their babies until they’re a little older and less likely to break. Some offer anyway just to make sure I don’t want to try again.
Here’s me again, in a similar situation at 34, sitting on my friend’s couch. I’ve just dropped off coffee on my way home from Pilates.
“Do you want to hold him?” My friend offers. Her baby is just a few weeks old.
“I’d love to just look at him for now. I’d love to try when he’s a little older.”
When I’m sure I won’t break him.
When I’m sure I won’t fuck it up as badly.
He is really cute, though.
He’s so tiny, I can’t believe it.
You’re such a good mom.
I admire you.
I don’t know how you do it.
I could never.
“Of course, you hold him whenever you feel ready. Or never. Whatever you decide is fine.”
“Thank you,” I say, peering over the bassinet. “I can’t believe how small he is. Three weeks ago he was inside you. That’s fucking insane.”
My friend laughs. “I know, right? I honestly can’t believe it either.”
Thank you for not pressuring me.
Thank you for not judging me.
I’m sorry.
Thank you.
You’re doing great.
I love you.
“No Matter How Much They Achieve, ‘Childless Cat Ladies’ Can’t Escape Bias” by Meghan Rabbitt for CHIEF
My career coach sent me this extremely timely article last week:
“As any woman who’s on the otherhood track will tell you, there are a certain set of issues that can surface when you deviate from the norm. For instance, one 2017 study published in the journal Sex Roles found that married-with-kids couples felt emotions ranging from disapproval and annoyance to outrage, anger, and even disgust toward married-without-kids couples. Other research has been consistent with this study, finding the voluntarily child-free are often perceived as less fulfilled and even elicit moral outrage. (Just ask J.D. Vance.)”
“We Need to Talk About Our Ex-Best Friends” by Lilly Dancyger for Elle
Is there anyone out there who hasn’t been through a friendship breakup??? A few of mine have been absolutely devastating.
“Though there has been a lot more discussion recently about how central friendships can be to a happy, well-rounded life, they still tend to be treated as secondary to romantic partnerships and familial bonds. This is partly because of societal focus on the nuclear family—which translates to pressure to find “the one.” But maybe it’s also because there aren’t the same clear markers of a significant friendship: there isn’t the traditional trajectory of dating to moving in together to marriage (let alone a wedding—a big party where you proclaim your love for each other), or even an equivalent conversation that marks the shift from casually dating to an “official” relationship. Similarly, there often isn’t an “official” breakup conversation to mark the end of a friendship, either—and without that definitive ending, it’s harder to build the kind of wallowing and rebuilding rituals we have to ease use through the end of a romance.”
“Dad Is on the Ballot” by Charlie Warzel for The Atlantic
It was a great week to be a Minnesotan 😎
“Once Harris formally announced Walz as her running mate, the Dad posts flooded my timelines. “tim walz is outside cleaning my grill,” one Threads user posted. “Tim Walz just slipped me a 20 on my way out the door because ‘you never know if some place doesn’t take credit cards,’” another responded. “Tim Walz is the dad an entire generation wish they had instead of the one they lost to Fox News,” someone said on X. Each winking, Rockwellian koan was a bit of dad fan fiction. Walz as a neighbor, raking your leaves for you. Walz letting your husband borrow his power washer. Walz at Home Depot offering advice on hex bolts. Walz “taking care of the wasps’ nest for you.” Many of these examples project a small-town, working-class relatability that is often claimed by the right, which suggests that Walz’s image flips the dynamic, making his political opponents look like out-of-touch elites by comparison.”
My friend,
, wrote a very vulnerable issue of her newsletter this week about being in a relationship after divorce. In it, Leslie says that she and her boyfriend are still unsure about the possibility of kids. This doesn’t really have anything to do with her debut novel, You’re Safe Here (but also maybe it kind of does?), but Leslie has been on my mind this week!
This particular statistic from the same Pew Research Center study I quoted last week felt relevant to today’s theme. Does this surprise you? Did you think it would be higher or lower?
If you’re not a paid subscriber to
, now might be the time to upgrade. I loved this episode of their podcast about Ballerina Farm (wow, I knew nothing) and J.D. Vance – absolutely worth a listen. Also I love how they accurately predicted Tim Walz becoming the VP pick!
That’s it! Come tell me about your inner monologue, your fears about people thinking you’re a witch, Tim Walz, childless cat ladies, etc. etc.
I don't have a ton to add, but holy moly, you are in my brain. I've had the same internal dialogue around small children countless times.
Really related to all of this. It's always seemed so... odd to me that something can be not for you and depending on what that thing is, that somehow means you hate it? There's a lot of things in life that aren't for me - sure, kids are definitely higher ranking on the social and cultural expectations chart - but that doesn't mean that I hate any of them. And a lack of experience doing something also doesn't mean I hate it. Lots of people don't know how to hold a baby - being a woman doesn't mean I was born knowing how to do this. I had to learn how to do basically everything in life and some of them I feel comfortable doing and others I don't no matter how many times I've done it.