You are my sisters, brothers, my dear friends. I have treated you all the same – I have not been a good auntie or helpmate to your children. As I write that I feel, as usual, defiant but apologetic.

The long and short of it is, I can’t abide children. I don’t wish them harm, I don’t feel hostile to them, I can love and be charmed by them from a distance. I’m simply unable to enjoy or function in their presence. Mysteriously, their presence immensely wearies and bores me, though in their absence I’m genuinely interested in them, their development, what they say and do.

I’m delighted by their cuteness, upset by their sadnesses. But, all at a distance please

I want to know how they are growing and changing. You can talk to me about them as much as you want. I’m delighted by their cuteness, upset by their sadnesses. But, all at a distance please. It’s the species: the radiation of a random, mysterious, unfathomable energy. The feeling that they can see right through me into my shallow, pretending soul. The fact that they take up all the available space and air, absorb 100% attention. That my own being feels battered by an onslaught of jarring noise. That babies fill me with terror – explosive time bombs! – and that the presence of a child knocks me off kilter, invades me, destabilises me, hurls me miles out of my comfort zone. Absurd, yes. But a fact.

No doubt it would have been different if I’d had children of my own, I’d have developed a shield, I suppose, an immunity, like parents have to. But I never wanted children and never saw any reason to have them, and plenty of reasons not to. I am not like those people who chose not to be parents but who seem invariably to say that actually they adore children and get enormous satisfaction from being with their nieces, nephews, children of friends – I chose not to have children because everything to do with bringing up children in today’s world feels destructive and onerous to me.

The sad result of this is that I can’t offer to my family and friends what normal, proper family and friends have to offer – a willing and available babysitting and childminding service. This is what most of you need most of all. In theory, you may want to continue to enjoy our adult relationship but what you need most is a break from your exhaustion, practical help, and the most practical help of all is relief from the kids. This, I can’t offer. That’s unfortunate for you. What is terribly sad for me is that I lose you as you enter child-rearing years. I patiently, regretfully, guiltily wait on the sidelines until your children approach an age I can tolerate (mid-teens), looking forward to them being adults and then hopefully, if not too late, forming their own relationships with me. Then, just as we are getting to know each other again – you become grandparents!

While I talk of what you want and need, I speak from my own paranoia and regret. But you don’t appear to resent or look down on me for my failings as an aunt. You have been amazingly loyal and magnanimous, most of you understanding and accepting of what I am. For this I am hugely grateful. I just wish I could have been more to you than what I have been. Anonymous

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