I’ve never liked babies.
And so I waited. I waited the long months until he was born, and out he slithered — a red potato with the jowls of a Saint Bernard and the haircut of a 70-year-old man.
“Oh, the first few days are always a little rough, but pretty soon you’ll wonder how you lived without him!” everyone assured me.
With every 2 AM wakeup cry and biohazard diaper blowout, I waited for that all-consuming love that everyone had promised me, but all I found was exhaustion, frustration, and confusion.
All my girlfriends were posting on Facebook about how beautiful their newborns were, how their hearts were bursting with love, and how they had felt an instant connection. So what was wrong with me?