“I gave birth so that they would leave me alone” (an honest text about how to live without maternal instinct)

Maternal love is considered something unconditional and an inherent aspect of the female personality. Every woman should have this ‘basic package’ within her, regardless of whether or not motherhood occurs—and when. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for me, and some mothers can’t feel anything special about their children. But even if this is a situation that is rarely talked about in our society, it is possible to find a way out.

My name is Marina, and I’m ready to tell readers of awesome.club something that is embarrassing to admit even to my soul: my daughter is 13 years old and the maternal instinct has never awakened. Follow along.

I was never attracted to babies. At the age of 7, I always dreamed of having a dog, but my parents ‘gave’ me two little sisters. I fed them, changed diapers, walked them around the house in the stroller. I had to become a second mother to my sisters because a real mother was torn between work and home and these were difficult times for our family.

At 19, I fell head over heels in love and married a man nine years my senior. I finally broke free: kayaking, hiking or diving…we were both up for any adventure. About three years into our marriage, my in-laws started asking, “We want grandchildren! When are they coming?” For a few years, we answered that it was too soon. So, my husband decided that it was time and he took their side, began to persuade me, promised to help. I wasn’t ready for motherhood, but I gave up the fight. At age 26, the pharmacy test showed the famous two strips.

When I got pregnant, my husband was glowing with happiness, the grandparents-to-be rushed to buy clothes and toys, and I felt as if I had fallen into a trap. The first two months of pregnancy were horrible. I was banned from doing any activity. Even tying her hair was a problem. To make matters worse, I had a difficult birth.

After 12 unforgettable hours of contractions and attempts, a small ‘red lump’ was placed on my breast. I was sure that at that moment I would feel overwhelmed by tenderness and love, but I only felt relief that the labor was finally over.

The next day I looked at my daughter and I didn’t feel anything special: just a child who needed to be cared for and fed. I did everything that was required of me as a mother, but there was an emptiness inside me. Not everything went according to plan: my maternal instinct, which is so much talked about, was fast asleep like a bear in a cave.

I rushed to study the literature on this topic: I carried the baby in my arms, talked with her from the first days of her life and tried in every possible way to create that attachment between mother and daughter that should be innate, but for some reason it did not arise .

I understood that the problem was not with my daughter, but with me. I began to observe my husband, my in-laws and other mothers and I learned to ‘reply love’: hugging tightly, sincerely comforting the child, kissing on the head and saying kind words. At first, it was kind of weird. Then I got used to it. I didn’t want my daughter to have the slightest reason to doubt that she was loved and adored by her family.

But that became a daily effort. Minute by minute, I had to identify what was good about her so I could focus my attention on that. Honestly speaking, we were lucky with our daughter: she is smart, beautiful, easy-tempered, never throws tantrums in stores. She looks exactly like my husband and I like that.

I often think that everything was very different in my childhood. My mother was always exhausted from working at home, my sisters and I didn’t have time to receive hugs and tenderness from her. Love manifested itself in the fact that our bellies were full and that we had something to wear and wear. It’s just that somehow we weren’t free to talk about our feelings. But nowadays, in the age of psychologists and talk about emotional intelligence, this is no longer ‘accepted’.

How easy it would have been to think of myself as a good mother just because my daughter was full of sweets and toys! At some point in her childhood, it was time to buy dollhouses and princesses, which I only dreamed of having as a child. We played dress-up with the dolls in beautiful dresses, did their hair and organized fashion shows — perhaps that was one of the best moments of my daughter’s childhood. And one of my moments with her too.

Now she is 13 years old. Adolescence, maturation process, first pimples. If even the most loving parents face difficulties in dealing with teenagers, imagine me. There are many things that annoy me about my daughter: her passion for rhinestones and sequins, her slang, her ability to draw over 100,500 selfies a day and the silly videos she posts on TikTok.

However, I understand that this is age-related, that it will pass, and that this negative reaction is just a reflection of my internal problems. My husband, for example, likes everything that my daughter likes: he is ready to spend hours watching videos on YouTube, go to concerts of unknown artists and go to the cinema to watch American comedies. I don’t interfere with anything: such a father is the dream of any girl.

It’s easier for my husband: he wanted to have children, and I gave birth so that they would leave me alone, but it was still my decision. Deep down, I’m ashamed to see my daughter and not be able to give her something so important — that unconditional love she deserves, just like any other child. However, support, attention and kindness I can give without having to feel any butterflies in my stomach. It’s just a matter of education and habit.

Perhaps, if I had grown up to have a desired and conscious motherhood, and had not succumbed to the persuasions of my husband and my relatives, my feeling towards my daughter would have been completely different. I would have fainted with tenderness looking at her and my heart would have jumped out of my chest with every “Mom, I love you!” But it’s clear to me that the time and effort spent imitating something that doesn’t exist has not been wasted. She is growing up and becoming a very good person. Perhaps, in the future, we will become friends.

When did you feel unconditional love for your child? Do you believe it is a process or something that appears in the first contact after childbirth? What do you think of society’s pressure on mothers to feel unconditional love for their children? Tell us in the comments section.