I don’t know if this counts but I never did. I don’t hate the kid by any means. Never wanted kids, was on birth control, but I was always told it’s different when it’s your kid. you just magically love them. Well it wasn’t different, he was just another kid I had no feelings for. I knew I couldn’t be a loving parent a kid needs so he was adopted by a family I know well. They live close and I’ve seen him grow up but he’s just some kid to me.
EDIT: thank you for your kind words. People can be cruel about the other side of adoption sometimes.
EDIT2: I didn’t just hand someone a child. I’ve know them for years and they have another adopted son. They also went through home checks, background checks and regular checkups done by social services. They are his parents I was an incubator.
I never wanted children. I saw no appeal, no urge to have them, no tugging on the ovaries when around babies. I never believed I was cut out to be a mother in any sense of the word, and experience proved it.
I dated my husband to be, who was adamant he wanted no children either, we married, and all was well until out of the blue a few years later he decided the most important thing to him on the planet was for me to bear his children.
He wore me down, and at the time I didn’t have the fortitude to say or do anything to push my point, and he made promises to cover all my fears. He said he’d be happy to do most of the rearing and he wouldn’t allow me to fall into being the sole childraising parent. He reassured me his parents would take some of the load. I thought it was all part of how love should be and with his persuading, my parents telling me I’d change my mind like everyone does, his parents being over the moon about his decision to try for kids, I went along with it. At the age of 27 I had a fine, healthy baby boy.
And within months it was clear my ex’s promises were all about him and I’d made a dreadful mistake and I was raising a child I felt no bond with virtually alone. The experience changed us both and after just over a year later he left me because *I* changed. I probably don’t have to tell any parent here about that, at least physically.
Mentally though, it was a killer. The bond never happened, and I just ended up a mother to a *someone*. I can’t even say “this is my son” because I don’t feel that. There was caring for a dependent human being who deserves a safe life and protection and security, and until he was four I raised him alone. I can’t describe the hell of raising someone you can’t work up a bond with, even a good person. It’s like having the best flatmate I had while at uni, but also being responsible for every part of their being from food, medical, emotional, educational… I know no matter how I put it, to people who have children and who’ve connected with them there’s no comparison, but that’s you and this is me.
I don’t hate the kid. He deserves far more than I am capable of giving, and I am so f*****g thankful my ex’s grandparents stepped in. They were collecting him for a weekend and I made an offhand comment about keeping him (worn down by two days looking after vomiting child) and his grandfather took me aside and asked in all seriousness if I was coping. I let it all out and he, the man who didn’t want me to marry his son, was understanding enough to see I was serious, I was trying the best I could, I was failing, and it was damaging his grandson. By the time he was five they took him in permanently.
So they’re raising him and I think it’s better for all of us. I ache because I don’t love him, and never have – but he’s still a small, vulnerable, developing human who deserves real parents with real love. He seems to have bonded well with his grandparents, though I know kids can be remarkably resilient and reserved when the biggest things bother him. I don’t know if it’s my bias from being free of the situation but I hope loving (relatively young, they’re 51) grandparents are better than a constantly angry and increasingly resentful mother.
I thought I wanted a child. I wanted one so badly that it hurt. I even cried a few months before I got pregnant because I was so sure that I was finally pregnant, and then was let down when I found out that I wasn’t. At the time, we were living in a small apartment in a not so very good city. I had an okay job, but it wasn’t enough to comfortably live with 2 adults, one who is … without sugar coating it… someone who doesn’t add anything financially to the relationship. We were getting by on the skin of our teeth and with $200 a month in help with food from my SO’s mom.
I was completely irresponsible, but I don’t think I cared. It took us 6 months to get pregnant, and we had only been together for about 9 months until that point. I think I felt my whole life that I was unloved and that no one cared about me, and that no matter what I wanted to experience life inside of me, and have a beautiful baby that I could love on and eventually someone who would love me back. When I was pregnant, I would sit for hours and dream about my future with my little girl, like taking her to the park, getting ice cream after school, arts and crafts.. the works!
My daughter was born a little early, but otherwise perfect. So beautiful, people would stop us just to let us know we had a gorgeous little girl. I was absolutely in love, we were a bit better off financially, everything was going right. But as time went on my daughter who was meeting all milestones and even passing a few (walking before crawling) just turned off at 13 months. My once interactive and charming baby became a growling, shrieking machine of rage and hatred. She no longer interacted, she no longer looked at us. She didn’t respond to anything, and our once calm nights became a night where we could have anywhere between 3 to 6 hours of nonstop tantrums. As she got a bit older, about 2 years old, she started to get physically violent too. She would kick us and pinch us, claw at our arms and faces. If we moved away from her, or tried to hold her down, it would get worse but towards herself, slamming her head into the ground, kneeing herself in the face… just SO BAD!
We got a severe autism with the future possibility of retardation as a diagnosis and found a doctor willing to help us with her violent tendencies with medication. She’s 4 now. Still nonverbal, still in her own world and last she was tested is mentally about 6 months old. 6 months old.. but in the body of a child I can no longer control. She’s too heavy for me to lift without a struggle, too long for me to be able to hold down all body parts when needed, and big enough that it really does hurt when she get’s us. Her medications help, but it’s no cure. Where it was nightly before, it’s down to 2 or 3 times a week. That sounds a ton better, and it certainly is, but it’s hard to accept that things are ‘better’ when you still spend up to 12 hours a week holding down a screaming child who is hellbent on making *someone* bloody tonight.
And with all of this, what hurts is that we can’t tell anyone any of this. We can’t talk to anyone. People suggest we go to support groups, but we feel like those are a sham. Anonymity has allowed people online to share their feelings that are in the same situation for us, and we know that how we feel… this love mixed with hatred, is normal for parents in our situation. But if we ever said that in person, even to other parents in our shoes, we would be vilified. Everyone would be upset that we feel this way. Our family doesn’t understand, and they think life with our daughter must be so special and amazing…but they get to leave when she starts to whine. They force themselves onto us to visit, and then leave an hour later bitching that she isn’t like Neighbor Julia’s kids who all can play board games and read with their grandparents, leaving her a teeth grinding, head banging in the wall mess that takes hours for her to get over.
The last straw I think is seeing my friends who have children younger than my daughter that … they can live out the dream I had with my daughter. They can talk to their kids, they can interact with them. Having children for them is a dream, and they plan on more in the future. I read last week about a friends 4 year old that wrote and left a note to be mailed to Santa and that together they baked goodies together. I don’t get these. That’s not my life, and it makes me jealous. And f**k me if I say anything too, because then I’m the selfish mom because I think about those things too instead of just about how this autism must make my daughter feel.
It’s stressful. We can’t afford anything but an apartment, so our neighbors constantly complain about her screaming that we have no control over. They complain when she is up at 4 am hollering because something didn’t go exactly right. She tortures us (and probably herself) with only sleeping between 2 and 5 hours of sleep a night and that’s it all day. She can only fall asleep when sitting on me – which doesn’t sound too bad until you consider that she get’s upset when she’s tired, and will flail, kick and scream. Once she headbutted me and snapped my glasses off, leaving a huge gash across my face and blind for days without my glasses. When she does sleep, she will be sent into a horrible rage if she sleeps anywhere but with us, and with us being between us. Two adults plus a 4 year old in the middle of a cheap queen size bed. My husband and I have gotten used to sleeping so far to the edge that we have to hold on. We’re constantly sleep deprived. When she wakes up, every day no matter how she woke up (on her terms or ours) she will scream and rage and need to be held down for at least an hour. Every morning. Imagine your alarm goes off 4 hours early EVERY day by screaming and trying to hurt you for at least 60 minutes. We darkly joke that it’s like she’s torturing us in some camp.
So that’s my life. And honestly, I love my daughter in the sense that a parent has to, I think. I love her in the sense that I would be upset if she got hurt. I would be upset if she passed away, and I would be sad if she no longer lived with us. But at the same time I wake up every day wishing this was not my life. I wake up with the feeling that behind the love I believe nature makes me feel, that I hate my daughter. The part that ignores how I would feel in the event it happens wishes that I could give my daughter up for adoption and start over with my life. Part of me wishes that I had never gotten pregnant, or that I had listened to a few friends who had suggested I gotten an abortion. I wish I could leave. Just pack up everything and be the abandoned mother, running off and forgetting her past. But I cant. My husband cannot financially provide, and I would be kidding if I said he could take care of her alone. I love him too much to do that to him.
And I guess in a way I love my daughter too much to do that to her. This autism she has has pretty much ruined the future I dreamed of for her, but I know that her actions aren’t her fault. And I think I love her enough to not let her know how I feel under everything. Each day we wake up, we hug her and stop her from hurting herself until she calms down. Once she’s calm, she gets hugs and kisses from us telling her that everything is okay. I work hard to provide the therapy and supplies she needs. I make her favorite meal (the only one she will eat) every night. And at night once she falls asleep, I touch her face and love on her and dream that maybe someday things will be better, despite wishing the same thing every day for the last 4 years.
**TL;DR**: Read the damn thing. I spent the time to put my heart into this reply, give me the respect to read it all.
Edit: I just wanted to say thank you to the kind replies. It’s like a salve to know that I can express how I feel and not be made out to be a horrible person, and that maybe how I feel isn’t completely out of the ordinary. A private PM made me think a lot, and I think that it’s true – that I don’t hate my daughter, but rather the situation we’re in in life right now, and that I don’t think badly of my husband, no matter the situation, but was just trying to find a reason for the way things are, even if it was wrong. My outlook and even opinion of myself and how I feel right now in life now don’t feel so … bleak and monstrous, like I’m a bad mother. So thank you again, it’s nice to know that even though it’s just the internet, I’m not alone.
Edit: Thank you for your sympathy. He’s only 7 so he’s not exactly dangerous right now but I’m really scared of how things will be when he gets older.
I’ve had two beautiful kids, but I don’t love them as their mother. I was a twenty-one year old and met a gorgeous and awesome guy. He was older (27) and already graduated law school and was working at a law firm. He was great. Smart. Very attractive and very fit. Despite this it was clear it wasn’t a long-term thing. He, admittedly, didn’t function well in relationships. However, I could tell he really loved and wanted kids.
So I offered to give him a child. Sounds strange, but even though I knew we wouldn’t be together-and I knew I wasn’t in love with him-I had a strong physical desire to give him kids. Again it was strange and kind of hard to explain. We talked about it and he eventually offered to pay for my college degree and give me some money (I won’t say how much). He bought me health insurance and then we started trying. I got pregnant surprisingly fast.
I was on summer break for the first trimester so I traveled. I, thankfully, didn’t have a difficult time carrying (giving birth was horrible) and I was just in school for the rest of my pregnancy. His mother was around a lot so that was cool. I didn’t have to do anything really to prepare for the child. He worked constantly during (he was trying to earn as much as he could)’ but we always had great sex and continued during the pregnancy. Mostly, I think this was stress thing.
I had a girl and once she was born her father was on cloud nine. I think this caused the second pregnancy, because, well we had a lot (a lot!) of sex right after. He begged me to carry the second pregnancy all the way through. So I did. I took a year off from school because I didn’t want to graduate pregnant and I again got to travel. The second time seemed way easier and flew by. However, the second time around there was more distance between us. I had my own place and was flying around a lot and he was raising his daughter. The second child was a boy.
The kids are four and three now. They have a wonderful father and a great extended family. We have a great relationship and I know he is there for me should I need him.
I went back to school, graduated, and started my career. I’ve had some ok relationships. I relish in my freedom.
My parents get to see the kids frequently and if I am over there I see them. They call me by my first name. They are great kids, but I don’t have a motherly love-type relationship with them. We’ve discussed eventually telling them I am their mother. He is ok with it because he doesn’t think he’ll ever get married so he doesn’t see any conflict with other maternal figures. My son also looks a lot like me so they figure it out eventually.
I was a teenage boy with serious emotional baggage, the product of multiple father figures who came and went, each leaving a small reminder of themselves in the form of scars (some mental, some physical) My mother was a strong independent woman who was struck down by a drunk driver when I was 9, and although she lived, the head and neck injuries she sustained gave me the shell of what had been for my most trying years.
By 13, I was an alcoholic. By 14, I was working two full time jobs to keep a roof, and by 16, I *FELT* I was a mature man, who could handle anything. I avoided relationships because I always felt damaged.
One night when I was 17, I was drinking in a bar where I knew the bartenders well enough, and met a girl. She was beautiful, funny, the life of the party, and coincidentally, also underage. I made a few jokes, drank a few drinks, and made my way to the exit. As I started my s****y little car to leave, said girl’s friend knocked on my window and asked my age. I lied and said I was 22, to avoid any trouble for my bartending friends. One thing lead to another, and that beautiful girl and I left together.
The next two weeks were spent drunk, barely sleeping, having sex wherever we could find a bed. Without a care in the world, I lost my job, alienated my friends, and consumed myself with this girl. We would both find out later that we were much younger than we lead eachother to believe. By then, it was too late.
When she announced she was “late”, we bought two pregnancy tests from the pharmacy. Both showed negative results. When her little friend still hadnt visited two weeks later, we told her mom, who scheduled a doctors appointment, and low and behold, we were pregnant.
I spent the next two weeks BEGGING her to get an abortion, knowing full well I had the emotional capacity of a carrot, and realizing very quickly just how immature I truly was. She, the good christian girl, flat out refused, listing all the reasons she hated me for even asking, and reminding me just what an a*****e I was for not loving our “gift from god”.
We were married the following month, after driving to a state that would allow it at our ages (my mother refused to consent) The next ten months were a mix of screaming, fighting, pretend break ups, and general hell for us both.
On the day our son was born, our parents gathered round and smiled, and she was just… different.
For the next six months, I worked as many hours as work would provide, in between losing jobs, and she slept. FOr hours, she slept. As he would cry, she slept.
By the time my son was 18 months, this girl who had convinced me I was a monster for not wanting our child was sleeping with a coworker (who was also married with children). I begged and pleaded with BOTH of them to end the affair. Within two weeks, she was gone. Her parting words “Call me when he can talk and is potty trained”. Ironically, she left to join a christian band with her coworker in another state.
For the next year, I spent most nights drunk, contemplating suicide, and wondering what the hell to do with this child. My mother helped. Her mother helped. But I grew to resent him more and more. I pined for my youth, which she promised she would sacrifice with me, but instead left to pursue.
I have spent the better part of 12 years being congratulated on being “an amazing dad” and “stepping up”. Secretly, I cry to myself some nights regretting how cold and distant i have been, how selfishly I have treated this child that looks JUST LIKE ME, and how much better he deserved. His mother bounces in and out now, just present enough to remind him he means less than her two new kids.
He and I have a strange relationship. My anger gets the best of me sometimes over the slightest things. He is respectful, well mannered, extremely intelligent, athletic, and just an overall wonderful person. By his age, I was on my way to being the piece of s**t I am today. And yet, knowing all these facts, feeling guilty beyond words for the hardships he has endured as I grew up simultaneously with him, I still feel like I love him because it is my DUTY to love him. Sometimes it feels like we are roommates, my friend who has slept on the couch for thirteen years. He deserves so much better than I have given him. Yet I rest on the fact he has had so much more than I did. And for that, I know if there is a hell, I have reserved my own suite.
EDIT: 1 Formatting?
EDIT 2: As I read the posts of people with children with deformities and sickness, I cant believe how lucky I am to have a healthy kid that gives me so little grief and so much pride.
EDIT 3: Thanks for the gold! And also, thanks for helping me find where the leaks in my face were guys. I have really never expressed all this together, so I appreciate everyone’s encouragement and kind words.
EDIT 4: I cant believe the sheer number of responses. I apologize for not being able to respond to all of them. Thank you everybody for your encouragement and helping me see things a bit more optimistically. Im truly in awe.
But they are people with their own personalities and there are days when I really don’t like them. The 2 older girls teenage years were filled with these days.
What most new parents don’t understand is that kids are not a blank slate that you get to draw on. Each child has their own personality and while you can guide and shape their views and attitudes, you just can’t change who they are. That can lead to times when you don’t like them. Don’t feel bad or guilty about it, its natural but nobody talks about it.
Understand them, Talk to them and above all Love them. When you see something you don’t like, do what you feel is right as a parent. If its serious enough that it needs adjustment, work with them. If its something small, let them be their own person.
I was an unplanned/unwanted pregnancy in her teens. She didn’t want me from the get go. She would often leave at night, with me in the care of my father, cousin or grandparents and go party. When I was 2, right after my brother was born, our father died in an accident. My mother took this opportunity to leave me with my grandparents after the funeral and just leave, taking my brother with her. Over the next several years I saw her sporadically and for maybe a few hours at a time once a year or so.
Fast forward to when I was teen and I was living with her because she wanted a babysitter for my younger half siblings she came home drunk and I had had the last straw and screamed out, “Why do you hate me??” And she point blank told me it was because I looked, spoke, acted and carried myself just like my father. The thing is, she loved my father with everything she had, she even kept my brother instead of abandoning him because he shared our father’s name.
When she was sober, I confronted her again and I told her I wanted the rest of the truth (I just knew there was more) and she didn’t even try to pawn it off as her being drunk. She told me the same thing but added on that she never wanted me in the first place, that she felt no connection or bond with me, never had and that I may as well have been someone elses child and with the way things turned out, I may as well have been my grandparents child rather than grandchild. She said she should have listened to her father (my grandfather) when he told her to abort me and that the only reason she didn’t was because my father wanted me and she loved him.
This both surprised me but also….not really. Like I knew she felt like this on some level but to actually hear it sort of threw me for a loop. To this day my younger siblings, who I basically raised, do not know me as their sister, they have no idea. My mother has kept it from them, they just assume I’m another relative (likely a cousin) from our massive family. The other thing is that all 5 of my other siblings were also unplanned/unwanted but she treats them like kings and queens, they had the type of bond with her I only ever dreamed about as a child.
I’ll be honest here. Tithe first year or two with my daughter was really rough. I regretted having her almost every day. She sucked the life out of me and a lot of times, my husband too. I loved her, but I did not want to parent her.
She’s almost five now and I couldn’t feel more differently. I love spending time with her. She’s a joy and I’m lucky to be the one raising her.
So if there’s anyone out there with a little one that’s reading this and feeling sh***y because you wish you hadn’t had them, there might be hope. Things might change. Being a parent (especially to a baby) is so incredibly difficult. Don’t feel guilty if it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and overwhelming joy.
I used to work in an office with mostly women (just out of college) and I asked a few women with children if they could go back and change it if they would. I assumed they would say no, but they always said, “I love my kids, but I probably would not have had them.”
Take it for what it’s worth.
I didn’t want to marry this girl, but basically felt I had to to support her (I’m military), and I didn’t want a kid. I love my daughter more than anything, but the resentment and frustration I feel towards the situation makes me miserable.
Basically, I love my daughter entirely, but she makes my life a living hell. Hope I’m not an awful person for feeling this way.
With over 7,000 comments I doubt this will even get read, but it may do me well just to type it up. I wasn’t going to initially, but after reading fairly far into the thread I kept seeing the same story about people who never wanted kids… and that’s not me. It felt like no one had a story like mine here, so I might as well type it up.
I have 3 kids. A daughter who turns 15 today, a daughter who is 4, and a son who is 20 months old.
My 4 year old and I are best friends. I pick her up from school early for ‘daddy dates’, I take her everywhere I can, and we have conversations where she stuns me with her insight and intelligence.
My Son is just starting to really show his personality. He is extremely loving, sweet, and just so loving.
Between the two of them and my wife I feel like I have everything in the world that I need.
And then there is the 15 year old.
When I was 19 I got a message on AIM (aol instant messenger). It was this chick and she basically gave me her address and asked me to come over and have sex with her.
Had this been 5 years ago I would have assumed that To Catch a Predator or some s**t was waiting for me.
It took more persuading then it would have with most guys (I think anyways, as in it took 2 days of her constantly asking me). Night over, life goes on.
3 years later I get a call and its her. She tells me she had a baby after our evening, but that she had moved to another state and had some fellow sign the birth certificate as the father. Now she has just given birth to his kid, but he has left her. So she has 2 kids, and she wants me to get to know my daughter.
At this point I am in college, and I figure… well s**t, I guess I owe it to this little girl.
For the first 6 months we meet up once a month or so and do things like go to the fair or zoo or whatever. We all do this together. Eventually she comes to spend the weekend with me. Her little brother was spending alternate weekends with his dad’s family, and I guess my daughter wanted to know why she wasn’t going anywhere.
My family treated her like an alien and I really had no idea how to handle a child, so I would do stuff like put a video game on (like ape escape), and she would point out the monkeys and I would try to catch them. Or we would go to the park and play hide and seek and stuff. Come Sunday morning I would have to start calling her mother first thing in the morning if I wanted to meet her by noon (she often just didn’t answer or had someone else answer and say she was in the shower). I had papers to write, books to study, and classes to prepare for so I was trying to cram all that into the very end of my weekends.
After about a year of this I got a hell of an opportunity to work for NASA for a summer at AMES in San Jose. It was a 12 week program, and by the end of it I was lead author on a published paper. While I was away my mother decided to step in and start having my daughter over. I thought this was a pretty good idea, as it would help them bond.
Through all of this my relationship with the girls mother was all together surreal. We didn’t know anything about each other. We were a one night stand personified. We didn’t have negative baggage because we never dated and broke up, but it could still get contentious.
When I returned from NASA my mother had bonded with my daughter and she basically had taken over scheduling the pick up and drop offs. This eliminated my need to communicate with her mother, so I was all for it. That was probably a dumb move.
Now, it’s worth stating that I enjoyed being with my daughter at this point, but it wasn’t until I had my two younger children later that I understood something was missing between us.
See, my older daughter really looked up to me and idolized me. She would tell people her father knew everything and could build or do anything. She was also uncontrollably afraid of me. She would hardly speak around me. She mumbled answer if I asked her anything. At one point when she was 13 she told me it was because she was afraid she would say or do the wrong thing and I wouldn’t want anything to do with her anymore… but that seemed more like the rationalization of a 13 year old. I just couldn’t understand it.
As the years went on my mother stepped in more and more and then I found she was telling people behind my back that I was an absent father and she pretty much did everything for her. I was a huge betrayal. I was paying money every month to her mother, I was buying her clothes, I was buying all her school supplies, I was picking her up and taking her everywhere, but because my mom handled scheduling, she thought I was “absent”. I created a large rift between my mother and I.
Shortly after this I got married and bought a home. At my home I made a room just for her so she would feel welcome. It seemed to kicked off a bit of a competition with my mother.
My daughter quickly realized this and played it up to get everything she could. I never played the game, but my mother sure did.
After I had my younger daughter my older daughter got very jealous. She practically counted the number of photos on the wall even though my wife went to GREAT lengths to get photos of her and us up on the walls.
2 years ago her mother decided she was moving to California. My daughter took this as an opportunity to play a game of who loves her more. I told her she should move with her mother. I truly felt that was best, as they are extremely co-dependent. I had witnessed so many break downs because her mother had to work too much, or was too busy with her other kids, etc. Based on her inability to really connect with others, it seemed like a bad move for them to be apart a this point.
Ultimately she decided that if she stayed she wanted to go to a private high school that was 90 minutes away. It was an arts and theatre school, so we aren’t talking like some science academy here When I explained that we didn’t have the resources to transport her back and forth every day, she was done with me. She went to my mother who also said she couldn’t fulfill that request. Suddenly my daughter announces she wants to live with some 80 year old couple that is a friend of her mothers because they said they wouldn’t mind driving her to this school on a daily basis.
That’s when I realized all she cared about was herself. In the end her mother never moved anyways.
My mother and I’s frustrations came to a head and after some truly horrific behavior on her part, and I cut her out of my life. No more seeing my two younger children until she could get her s**t together. She immediately went into action to lock down my older daughter, and sure enough, a week later my older daughter calls me up and after a very short conversation she states she wants nothing to do with me until I apologize to “grandma” (my mom) and “fix things”. She has zero idea what this fight is about, she has zero idea what went down or what was said, and yet she decided to take a very strong stance in her bid to be an adult at age 14.
6 months later my mother and I worked things out and we moved on with life. However I haven’t spoken to my daughter since that phone call. I feel she cut me out and therefor it is her responsibility to deal with it, the same way I approached my mother to patch things up.
If it were up to her and my mother, I’m sure we would all pretend that none of it ever happened. Which doesn’t do anyone any good.
We have been in the same room together 4 or 5 times during various family meetups, but each time she avoided me like the plague and hid in the corner on her tablet or DS or whatever.
At one point my 4 year old started asking me questions about monsters and other nonsense, and when I asked her where she heard it from it was her older sister. So at that point I made it clear to my mother that my daughters were not to be alone together if she happens to have them both at her house.
Last I heard my daughter was basically rebelling in every way possible. One day she is bisexual, the next she is dating a some guy and is actually going up to every family member she can find asking them if they are mad that he is black (I’m dead serious here). With the bisexual thing she decided she had to announce it to every single person she knew, and the follow-up question every time was, “so what do you think about it?” She is doing anything she can to get attention or opinions at this point.
My wife is very sensitive about it as she has an older sister who did the same things to her dad. And my wife is a lot like my 4 year old. She loves her father more than anything and would do anything for him, so when she sees her sister try to pull her s**t with her dad, it infuriates her.
So the short of it is, and boy, I can’t imagine how long this post is at this point…. But the short of it is I really don’t think I love her. I don’t feel like I know her, I am disgusted by her actions, I am sick of her constant drama, and I just can’t relate to her at all. And it feels so foreign to me as I love my two younger children with all of my heart. I consistently say things like, “my 2 kids”, or “my firstborn” when talking about my younger daughter. Its like my brain just doesn’t have the synapse connection that defines my older daughter as my child, and all the benefits that this would confer upon her.
Anyways, I really doubt that between the length and the fact I am so late to the party that anyone will ever read this. But thanks to reddit for giving me a place to type it up.
i’ll do you one better, my whole father’s (huge) side of the family all genuinely dislike or don’t love me(including 5 halfsiblings, 8+ aunts and uncles, my (now dead) grandmother, numerous cousins(that I went to the same school as/had the same uncommon last name)), because my dad cheated on his wife of 15 years, with my then 20 year old mother. I was the bastard baby produced from that.
In addition to that mess, my mom has serious mental issues with violent, hateful tendencies, so there’s not much room for a loving mother-daughter relationship there.
So, long story short, I have a huge family, but I have no family.
I’m stepdad, and have been with his mother since he was three. He’s ten now. His biological father is still very involved in his life.
And honestly? That’s part of the trouble. He is very attached to both his grandparents, who are incredibly passive-aggressive and infantilize both him and my wife. I woke up a few years in realizing that despite spending more time with him than any other member of his family, I was not considered by any of them (barring my spouse) to be his caretaker.
That attitude rubbed off on the kid, and I pulled away over the years to avoid the stress of being constantly barraged with disrespect. I couldn’t run my own household because we’re poor and rely on the child support and the grandparents for things like laundry or daycare, and if I tried to discipline him in even the most minor of ways, my wife would hear about it and our livelihood would be threatened. They didn’t speak to me at all. I was completely frozen out of any decisions about his life.
The kid has been endlessly coddled and sheltered, and combined with a speech disorder he’s a ten year old who is developmentally seven or eight. He doesn’t challenge himself in any way, because an adult in his life will take care of literally anything for him. He whines, he’s clingy, and not fun to be around.
I still make the effort to be there for him, but every year that passes I find myself just not liking them as a person. This isn’t what I wanted fatherhood to be. I’ve been doing this for seven years, not counting the decade I’d spent previously taking care of my siblings in lieu of their own father, and I hate it.
I’ve got my own children through my wife now, quite young, and I know it’s going to cause issues. I’ve refocused my attention to them almost entirely, and my wife is in denial about how thoroughly I’ve given up on my stepson.
I find myself just waiting for him to turn thirteen, wishing for puberty to hit so he’ll angst out and ask to live with his dad. I just want them gone, and all of the complications that they cause with it. He brings me no joy at all, and I can’t wait until he’s out of my house.
TL:DR I wanted to raise a stepson, but his other parents wouldn’t let me.
I am going to differentiate between love and like. I was 31 when I had my son and he was and still is much loved and much wanted. However there are far too many days that while I love him I do not like him in the least.
He has a learning disability, it is not an intellectual disability as opposed instead it is a severe organizational skills disability. All of the things that most of us to do fairly easily, keeping our schedules sorted out, doing multistep tasks and such are very difficult for him. Dad and I have been extremely supportive, we’ve made sure that he’s had tutors, that he has helps as he needs it, pretty much everything we could possibly do either financially or by being supportive we have done.
He is currently living in my basement rental unit because at 22 he needs his space as much as I need mine. He’s in college, this is after blowing three semesters at university because he couldn’t be bothered doing the work. College has gone better but because of his learning disability I still have to make sure his schedule is sorted out, that he gets places on time and such. It’s incredibly tiring and stressful for me. he has another five semesters left in this program, his dad and I are financing school as well as sharing the cost of living expenses. He works but only part time because of school commitments.
I suppose I’m writing this because I’m frustrated. In some ways he’s incredibly mature and bright, he’s articulate, he’s smart and when he’s in a decent mood he is enjoyable to be around. unfortunately he is lacking in self-confidence, both about his intellect and how people perceive him, he struggles to keep things together, suffers from depression [which is not his fault]. He’s had a rough couple of years, bad choices in girlfriends and such.
I wish he would do something positive to help himself out, I know he will always need some degree of help to keep him on schedule, such is the nature of his disability [it’s called executive function disorder if anybody is curious] but it would help tremendously if I didn’t feel like I always have to be on his case to make sure he gets things done in a timely manner, that he’s on time when he’s going places etc. despite his rough time he has a good life, he has a few good friends, a place to live, school is taken care of but none of it seems to mean anything.
Anyway I felt like this was as good a place as any to vent, thank you all for listening Reddit.
Well, recently I had a serious depressive episode. I grew up in very abusive homes, and my parenting strategy was to get a parent educator and, within reason, err on the side of loving and doting on my kids.
Aside from my mental illness, I was working three jobs and both my kids are both special needs. My daughter is violent, strong, and I tried for over a year to get professional help for her. I knew she would have a hard life if she didn’t get straightened out before school.
My behavior was this bad as a kid, and the social repercussions gave me depression and low self esteem. I was heartbroken thinking my daughter was going to grow up with those issues. I was terrified she was going to grow up to be like me.
I couldn’t bear to see that, so I was considering giving my kids up or leaving. But I knew if I did either, and continued to live, I would feel worse. I became suicidal. After two extended hospitalizations, I am well.
But I had to lie and say I had thoughts of killing my daughter. I’m ashamed. But the first time I was hospitalized, I begged for help, it was promised, but never came. So I had to go beyond and force the hands of the social workers and child mental health people.
We have services now. I still have my kids, and never stopped loving them.
I have a 31 year old daughter. I tried to get pregnant and was thrilled when she came. Her father and I divorced and did everything I could as a single mom to raise her right. When I remarried she hated that she was no longer the center of attention and everything went to hell. She was later diagnosed as bi-polar and has it is bad enough that she is on disability. She rebelled in high school and even tho we sent her to college she wouldn’t go to class and snuck back to spend time with her boyfriend. One semester was all it took and we gave up. She ended up on drugs, and her addictions went from Meth to Oxy to Heroin. She stole from me, I had her arrested. I have done everything I could to help her and she is still troubled.
While I don’t hate her, I hate what she is right now. She will still steal from me given the chance. She was over last week and stole my dish washing liquid, the silver coins out of my change cup and some things out of my cupboard. Had she asked, I would have given them to her. She also stole a bottle of Vicodin from when I hurt my rotator cuff a few weeks ago. She is my only daughter and every dream I ever had for her will never happen.
She tried convincing me with stuff like: with both of us as parents the baby’ll be gorgeous, she’ll have my smarts, I won ‘t have to change my lifestyle since it’ll be better to be educated, her parents can help out etc. etc. etc.
I didn’t buy it. I finally convinced her to abort but she said we needed to end things so I ended up one less sex friend.
Fast forward 6 years
I’ve been in an accident that left me quadriplegic two years ago. I get added on facebook by my former sex friend. SHE HAS A SIX YEAR OLD DAUGHTER.
I didn’t feel betrayed…I FELT TERRIBLE. She may have had the child against my will but I JUST LEFT HER TO FEND FOR HERSELF FOR SIX YEARS. WHAT KIND OF INHUMANE ACT IS THAT? She told me she just found out I had my accident even though it was a while and not to worry about money or being a father figure to OUR daughter. I’m hounded by all these conflicting feelings.
I don’t need to be a father figure because her fiancé will take care of it. I want to.
I don’t need to help support? I want to.
I don’t need to care about them? I want to.
I cant help out because I’m crippled? I want to.
Im not allowed to be near them because it’ll interfere with their newly wed life?
I feel like the life I should have had doesn’t want me. I never wanted a daughter but that doesn’t matter because she went ahead and had her anyway. I should help her instead I’m out partying and dating frivolously until I ended up quadriplegic.
I want to be able to support her but I can’t.
I don’t even know anymore but I’ve built up so much resentment…and JEALOUSY that I…”dislike” them.
I’ve always wanted what most girls wanted: Husband, children, be a crafty stay at home pinterest mom. Ended up with baby #1 way sooner than we planned because we were stupid. Baby #2 was a birth control failure. I tried to be a stay at home when #1 was a baby but it was hell (turns out she had autism with sensory issues). I couldn’t wait to get back to work.
Occasionally they’ll do something cute, or crawl into my lap, and that makes me feel something. But since we had them so young, every day I feel annoyed that we’re constantly broke and there’s not much I can do about it. I can’t put in extra hours at work because I have to pick up the kids after school. We’ve put in many thousands of dollars to daycare/afterschool care that could’ve gone to paying off student loans. We should be saving for a house but instead I have to buy winter clothes for them because they outgrew last year’s.
I don’t hate my kids by any means… but I think a lot about how life would be different without them.
We now have one. He is adorable. But I do not love him. I feel very little for him. I wish he hadn’t been born. He has financially hit us hard, I am having to rearrange a lot of projects I’ve been working on for years, which means making other people rearrange their lives for him, and what is worse, he has taken my wife’s creative energy out of her. She barely has any time to work on her art, and when she has the time, she doesn’t have the energy.
My wife wanted kids, I didn’t. But I loved her more than I didn’t want kids so we had two.
I never loved them or genuinely cared about them. I did all of the father stuff, more than most honestly. A ton of people who know me personally won’t shut up about how amazing of a father I am/how they wish their husbands were as good to their children as I am to mine.
But it’s all an act. I can’t wait until they move out and I don’t have to worry about them anymore. Can’t wait to get my life back.
My throwaway for obvious reasons.
I’m a mother to a very lively child of about 8. I never wanted kids. Ever.
At the time I was a mess, on a massive psychiatric cocktail from hell (which, as a fun fact, turns out was all a misdiagnosis from the start, as I had the right combination at 13 of anxiety, depression, and so many damn hormones to get myself a diagnosis for a far worse condition), I only started dating the dude due to a horribly bitter breakup from a very longtime relationship, and I was miserable and back home for the first time in my adult life.
But, he had known that I didn’t want kids. At the time, I couldn’t take any form of hormonal birth control, due to the cocktail above. I wasn’t aware of any other options.
Her father and I were in a really rough patch, and I think he realized there wasn’t much hope of me staying with him for much longer. He was right in that, as I would likely have left shortly after.
So, one night he’s frisky, and promises he’s wearing protection (I was rather drunk as it was right after a formal event for his unit (just, so much drinking. I was a huge lightweight at the time) – so as I had no other reason to not trust him- we do what couples do. He, of course, lied to me, which I found out after.
We get married, mostly for healthcare. I won’t lie, in hindsight – this was a huge f*****g mess. But, at the time I was convinced it was the only option I had.
I really want to go back in time and punch myself in the fact. Just, right in the face.
So, suddenly I’m pregnant.
He was deployed almost immediately after. So, here I am – pregnant, alone, absolutely terrified, and quite honestly assuming my (ex)husband is going to die overseas, and I’m f*****g lost. I cannot ever remember feeling like this before.
Happy 24th birthday, me!
As for now?
Now the kid is 8. He’s started cheating a long time ago (go on, act surprised!). Right after he came back from deployment, he’s cheated with about 50 odd women (paid and not) and spent literally all of our combined money (well over 40,000 in savings).
While yes, a LOT of f*****g amazingly wonderful things have happened due to this kid, I’m still at a loss over things. If he calls once in 6 months, it’s amazing. But, to a degree I guess that I consider lucky. My parents have helped out, and I’ve met someone amazing.
But, it’s not the life I wanted for anyone. It’s not fair to my kid, and it’s not fair (selfishly) to me.
I’m not maternal, at all. I do love her, don’t get me wrong. But I’m the exact opposite of anything maternal it’s not funny. I wanted to be like my mom, but I’m just not. I have her always and forever, but I’m bad at this, and I have no idea what I’m doing.
I see all these moms posting all this amazing stuff, and I want to feel this way. I don’t think it’s just her, as since everything, I’ve realized – I have a hard time forming bonds with people, and here I have this screaming mess of a tiny human at times, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m envious of these woman who have that love I can’t seem to form.
I was adopted myself, and while my family has been nothing short of amazing, I think it’s done a number on me in general.
If I had ever had kids, I wanted them to be planned and very much wanted at the time. When I had her – I was broke, beyond lost, and I hated her dad (he confessed to me that he had ‘won’ after I told him during a call that I had heard her heart beating, he confessed the rest after I asked him what that meant).
Now, I’m doing better. So is the kid. I wish I could say that my family had stepped in and realized that I was horribly suffering, but no. My family cannot for the life of them understand why I’m not defaulting to maternal. They’ve actually been far more of a hindrance on the process than anything. If she’s upset, or cries, it’s clearly my fault. If I say ‘no’ I’m overreacting. I’ve given up on my family due to all this.
But, I have a good job, and am able to support us. So, I guess that’s something in and of itself. So, I would like to have that final ‘planned’ child, which may or may not happen. I love her, but I want to experience something like that, someday. Oddly, I do think it would help. But, to be fair, I guess I don’t really care if I have anymore.
At this point, I’m still home for a bit longer. But, we’re managing. I’m miserable, but am hoping things will start looking up soon.
I do love my kid. But at the same time I regret every moment I’ve lived since I knocked up the psycho mother. I NEVER wanted kids. I LOATHE kids. But my hormones got the better of me and, long story short, I’m now a single father with sole custody of a whiny, bitchy, mental-as-hell- 10 year old that I had to take out of school due to daily breakdowns and panic attacks. My child’s shrinks (yes plural) say to not push school as it promotes panic attacks so I lost my job 2 months ago as I had no one to take car of the kid during the day. Now Christmas is upon us, I’m broke, and if it wasn’t for the kindness of my parents, I’d be boned. The only reason I stepped up and have tried with all my might to be a father is because my (real) father ran off when I was only 2 and had himself a great life full of money and fun. Until he married the black widow and ended up dead anyway LOL. So I admit openly to being bitter. My dad was s**t, my ex is s**t, my life is s**t. I can’t get a job because my mom is no longer capable of babysitting my kid for me, and if I can’t get them back into school, I’m never gonna get my life back. P.S. Anyone willing to hunt down and kill my kid’s mom feel free. She really does deserve it. She is a horrid person. She ditched all 3 of her kids to party, become an alcoholic, and worm her way into marrying a guy making 80k a year. Still has nothing to do with her 3 kids because she is too busy being drunk and doesn’t pay those taking care of her kids a damn penny.
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