I'm going to say the one thing that mothers always scoff and tell me isn't true, even though I think it every time I'm handed a cooing infant whom upon contact with me turns into a bawling, screaming inconsolable child.
I think babies hate me.
I've been building this theory for some time, basically since I was about 12 and started babysitting for neighbor's kids. This came up again when I was asked to watch my cousin's darling baby girl Thanksgiving morning while the rest of the family went on a run/prepared for the holiday feast.
I accepted but warned my dear cousin, was she sure she wanted to leave her with me? I promised that I could keep her from injury, keep her fed, but keeping her happy for a few hours? At best, the baby eventually tolerated my presence once her grandfather came to get her; at the worst she cried in indignation that someone other than her biological parents dare wake her from her crib.
It's not that I hate them, far from it. I pour over my cousins' kids baby pictures, and they're about the most stinking cute things I've ever seen. I would love to be able to play with the little ones. But in their first months of life young humans really seem to hate everything I do, and noisily inform me of this. Older children either find me amusing or ignore me, which is fine, but babies...they just seem to hate me.
If I may present my evidence:
1) Children cry when I look at them. I'm not very good at getting infants to laugh, apparently. I make the same goofy faces as their parents. I tickle them. Nothing, not even a giggle. The wailing at my very sight continues.
2) All crying, screaming, wailing and general sounds of torture stop when he/she is handed back to his/her mother. As soon as mom is back to hold and comfort the child, the screaming stops. Pass back to me, cycle begins anew.
3) No amount of doing "the right thing" stops the screaming. Babies cry. This is a fact. But the crying is most often a result of "I need to be changed," or "I'm hungry," or "dang it, woman, it's too darn hot in here, get me out of this blanket!" So I do those things- feed, change, rock, cuddle, sing to them, all to no avail.
I was taught repeatedly that mothering is natural for women, that wailing pink babies should spurn a natural ability in me to comfort and to nurture. Babies should respond to this instinct in kind, nuzzling into one's shoulder. So then why does the screaming continue? My sisters don't have children either, but this ability to swoop in and care for a screaming infant seems to come naturally to them. In their arms, the crying stops, and the happy cooing begins.
Science is finding that mothering may be even more genetic than learned. Do I lack a gene that my female family members got? Perhaps. Perhaps babies think I smell funny. Others suggest that the maternal instinct is largely a cultural myth, and not everyone is cut out for the infant stage.
Whichever may be the case, babies' fear of me is only one of the reasons I have chosen to remain IOD. It gets really difficult to explain this to my family or my colleagues or other friends with children. They insist that if I just popped out a kid of my own, I would do a complete 180 and become Mother of the Year.
But I would rather not find out when the decision cannot be unmade. It's only responsible, and to me it's only natural.
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