The moment a child is born, the clouds will part, the birds will sing, the bosom nectar will flow, and the new parents, tearful and delirious, will feel nothing but pure, world-stopping love.

That’s how it works, right?

For some, it is an accurate image. But for many—more than we hear about—this cultural expectation is far from reality.

And it can be damaging. Mothers and fathers don’t always form instant emotional bonds with their new babies in the way that’s depicted over and over in movies or on birth-story blogs. Some share with great honesty that for days, weeks, months even, they felt nothing.

Katherine Stone, creator of Postpartum Progress, the world’s most widely read blog on perinatal mood and anxiety disorders, says it’s normal for parents to feel all sorts of emotions after their baby is born—joy, fear, uncertainty, or even numbness.

“The blissful stories are often the only stories parents and the media share,” she tells Upvoted. “It seems like we should feel nothing but gratitude and thrill at the fortune of being able to parent a human being—and it is an awesome thing—but it’s also hard work, and consuming, and I think it’s okay to acknowledge that it’s wonderful to be a parent but also okay to find it frustrating, confusing and exhausting.” (Stone adds that if negative feelings are affecting one’s ability to function, it’s important to reach out for help.)

In an Ask Reddit thread that centered on the things people think they are alone in feeling, parents wrote openly about not experiencing a rush of love the moment their child was born, and how that often led to feelings of guilt. We asked some of these parents: How long did it take to love your baby?

Seven moms and dads shared their stories.

Tiffany, 34, Austin, Texas

Did you want children? My husband and I very much wanted children. We had a hard time conceiving—I had two miscarriages and we started fertility testing and procedures before finally getting a pregnancy that stuck, which took about two years. During that time, I obsessed over every birth story. I read blogs and message boards and every other source I could find to be ready for my perfect birth. (If I could go back in time, I’d slap myself.) Every single birth story—every one—ends with some version of “and then they put the baby on my chest and I finally understood true love.” Then there’d be a picture of a glowing madonna blissfully and loving staring at her adored baby.

How did you feel the moment your daughter was born?

When she was finally born, I cried in relief more than anything. Then I got all patched up and they gave her to me and I looked at her little face and felt … nothing. I just thought, “Huh. That’s what’s been in me all this time?” After that, I was like, “Let’s get a to-do list going, people! What’s next? How do I nurse? What’s the strategy here? When can I sleep?” My husband, on the other hand, was totally smitten. I felt like a horrible, incompetent failure as a mother. What kind of mother doesn’t love her own baby? Maybe I never will, I thought. There are not enough words to describe the depth of guilt and shame I felt. All that time trying to get pregnant and here I was—a horrible mother.

Did you share your feelings with anyone? At the time, I didn’t tell anyone—it was far too shameful. But I did mention it to a few people after the fact. My feelings were dismissed by one person, who said, “You were tired.” Another person told me that if I hadn’t given in and gotten the epidural, I would have been able to have those feelings. Seriously? On top of feeling shame and guilt about the lack of bonding, I was made to feel like an inadequate quitter because I opted for pain relief.

When did your feelings change? One day, about two weeks after she was born, I was sitting and nursing her and it hit me. I can still see that moment clearly. All those feelings I’d been wanted flooded in at once. I started crying and I hugged her to my breast. My husband looked confused and I told him, “I just love her so much!” The bonding and love and emotions just flowed from that point. Today she’s a rambunctious five year-old who I love more than life itself—though at least once a day, I want to sell her to a traveling circus.

“Three days”

Lindsay, 33, Lancaster, Pa.

Did you want children?

I was told by my doctor that I could never have children because of the way my uterus sits. A month later, I was having pain in my uterus so I went to my OBGYN. As she was examining me, a little smirk crossed her face. “You’re pregnant” she said. I just stared at her in shock, absolutely convinced she was playing a sick prank on me. She’s wasn’t, though, and I was seven weeks along. I fell in love with my unborn baby. She was my little miracle. I took every precaution I could to make sure she would grow to full term and be as healthy as she could be.

How did you feel when your baby was born?

I was so heavily medicated that I was throwing up and really out of it. My mom got to see her first. My baby wasn’t crying but she looked happy. Her eyes were wide and looking all around and she was cooing and making cute baby noises. She looked genuinely happy to be out in the world.

But I didn’t feel a rush of warmth for her. When they got us all settled in my hospital room, I held her close and looked her over. It was certainly a novelty, and I was over the moon that she was finally here and I was actually a mother. But I wasn’t “in love” with her. She didn’t look anything like what I had pictured her to look like. I felt awful for feeling nothing.

When did your feelings change?

The third day, she was still very jaundiced and had a heart murmur, so they wanted to take her to the NICU for a few days. They gathered her up in her little push cart and that’s when it hit me: They were taking my child from me! I began crying my eyes out and my mom wrapped me in a hug and rocked me as I cried and cried. That’s the moment that I began loving my daughter. She was no longer a stranger. She was my flesh and blood. She was mine.

“One year”

Suds*, 35, Chennai, India

Did you and your partner want children?

Yes, it was a thought-out, planned decision.

How did you feel when your baby was born?

I felt next to nothing. My first thought was. “The kid’s normal.” I would have been petrified if the kid had some disability, if you know what I mean.

I always found the whole “you will magically find yourself loving your newborn to bits” idea far-fetched. You don’t just love somebody who walked in through the door, right? But some days, I would question my own humanity. I mean, we are conditioned to react a certain way—countless TV shows and movies all have the father in the delivery room reacting with joy, hugging the mom and child for a photo and all that.

The first year, I was constantly worried that some harm would come to the kid—he would eat something he shouldn’t, become ill or die of SIDS. I was fiercely overprotective of my child. I was in hardcore caveman mode, and even the slightest cough would make me rush him to the pediatrician. In contrast, my wife, who was very attached to the child from the word go, was able to react calmly. You would imagine the roles would be reversed.

When did your feelings change?

I found a true sense of attachment growing only after he was able to crawl and make baby noises. I guess to me, that’s when he went from being a thing to an actual living human. The feelings accelerated exponentially, and right now, he is four-and-a-half, and he is the person I love the most. I’ve always travelled extensively for work and the whole being-away-from-home thing never bothered me. But these days? Every trip fills me with dread as I have to be without my baby boy. I even always bring one of his toys or T-shirts with me just so I can feel close to him.

“One year”

Kerri*, 31, Memphis, Tenn.

Did you want children?

I’ve known I wanted children from the time I was about 5 years old. It’s been my lifelong wish to have a little girl. My husband wanted children too, but he was apprehensive about it and kept telling me to wait. We ended up waiting six years for our daughter.

How did you feel when your baby was born?

The first thing I thought when I saw her was, “Thank God she’s cute!” For some reason, I was scared I would have an ugly baby!

I loved my daughter because she was mine, but I didn’t really feel that overwhelming love that people talk about. She was just like, there. She slept 20 hours a day. The times she was awake, she was pooping or crying, or both. We had difficulty nursing, and she wouldn’t take bottles—it just wasn’t fun. Add onto that my huge family of aunts and uncles telling me to hold her, not hold her, let her sleep, keep her awake, do this, do that—I just felt kind of detached.

Did you tell anyone about your feelings?

No. When people asked me how I was doing, my answer was always some variation of, “I’m great! And I love her so much!” I didn’t feel resentment towards her—I just didn’t feel that bottomless pit of gushy love everyone talked about. I felt guilty about about that, especially since I had wanted her for so many years.

When did your feelings change?

I don’t think I truly felt a bond with my daughter until she was close to a year old. I appreciated her, and I liked to tickle and play with her, but I kept feeling like she was someone else’s kid and eventually someone was going to come to get her.

I can’t name a particular moment when I started to love her. It was kind of gradual, more like falling in love than love at first sight.

“A few months”

Kim, 35, Colorado Springs, Colo.

Did you want children?

Yes, my husband and I both did. The thought was exciting and terrifying, and a little strange. I never was the sort of person who always knew that I wanted children. I didn’t feel quite ready when we actually decided to try, but I knew I probably wouldn’t feel prepared until it was too late to have a child of our own. Maybe not even then! I also knew I would deeply regret it if we didn’t have a child together.

How did you feel when your baby was born?

There was a sense of just giddiness because suddenly life had completely changed. But it took months before I felt a sense of attachment.

At the beginning, everything felt surreal. In a lot of ways, caring for a baby just felt like a job I had to do and eventually I would get to clock out. I remember thinking after the first week, “Oh, tomorrow’s Saturday. I can sleep in.” Sometimes, it felt like I was taking care of a baby for someone else and eventually they would come to pick her up. I tried telling myself that I was doing this for my husband, trying to keep his baby healthy for him.

So many nurses would beam and say, “Didn’t you just fall in love right away?” I remember my family doctor asking me, “Is she a cuddly baby?” and I told her that I didn’t know, because I really didn’t. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking other than being hungry or tired.

Did you tell anyone about how you felt?

I didn’t feel safe talking to anyone about it. I felt that my feelings were shameful and should be kept private. I probably should have talked to a doctor, even if only to be reassured that what I was feeling was normal, but I was worried that they would take her away, and that would mean that I had failed.

I didn’t really have any family to talk to about it. The older women in my family that could have given me the “mothering” I needed had all passed away within a period of a few years. There was nobody that really felt safe, other than my husband, but he was exhausted, too. I didn’t want to add to his stress, though we talked about it a little bit and he often assured me that I was a good mother.

When did your feelings change?



I don’t think I can pinpoint a moment, really. Love grew over time, as I got to know her as a person and as her personality developed.

It helped when we started getting a bit more sleep a couple months in. It allowed me to be more present instead of just in a constant survival mindset. Seeing my daughter develop into a person really helped too. When she learned how to smile—that was wonderful. I remember that making such a difference because it finally felt like we had a bit more communication going on. I could make her smile. She was happy to see us. We were a positive part of her world.

My daughter is almost two now and she is absolutely amazing. She does things that make me feel like my heart will explode with love, or things that are just so ridiculously cute I can’t believe it. It’s not bliss every second of the day, and there are still times where I just need to be by myself and recharge a bit, but the difference between those first few months and now are like night and day.

“One year”

Marie, 38, Oakland, Calif.

Did you want children?

My partner and I got together with the explicit understanding that neither of us were interested in kids. But then, we changed our minds!

How did you feel when your baby was born?

Our baby was huge—9 pounds, 9 ounces— but no one knew she would be. When they put her on my chest and she screamed at me, I just thought, “What the hell is this?” She didn’t seem like a newborn. She covered most of my torso. She was crying and I couldn’t calm her down, so I asked my partner to take her. He held her on his bare chest and she quieted right down. I had a swelling of love for him at that point!

Did you feel guilt that you weren’t experiencing strong feelings of love?

No. She was big and strong and just didn’t have that newborn vibe. She didn’t seem like she needed our protection. She could move her head around the first day. She looked like a three-month-old. I didn’t feel guilt then, but—and this is a sort of twisted confession—I do feel guilty that for the first year, I thought, “Well, if something happens and she unexpectedly dies, maybe that’s okay.” I had a lot of anxiety about keeping her alive that first year, so maybe that’s a part of that feeling.

When did your feelings change?

When the (breast milk) pumping stopped at about 14 months, our relationship changed for the better. She was developing as a person and I felt more relaxed and less pressured. Also, she was sleeping better through the night by that time, which is, of course, huge. I love her very much now, but I don’t know if I love her the way some parents love their children. The older she gets, the more in love with her I become. She just turned three and she’s really a fun kid to be around, mostly. But hey, parenting is tough. Fuck pretending, “Once I looked into those little eyes it was all worth it!” Not worth it, at first.

In the end, my partner and I signed up for it as an exercise in growth. We knew we would be constantly challenged, and we are.

“Six months”

Polly*, 27, St. Louis, Mo.

Did you want children? We wanted children, but much, much later. We were only 23, married less than a year, and his father had died just weeks before I got a positive pregnancy test. And we were due to move overseas just a few weeks after.

How did you feel when your baby was born?

My first moments with my daughter were not peaceful, not beautiful, and I hardly remember them. I had been in labor for 45 hours on a maxed dose of pitocin and no pain relief after multiple epidurals failed. At some point, they had given me some kind of pill narcotics to help me cope, and I was fuzzy and drugged out.

The first thing I remember after she was born were the big red numbers on the scale. My daughter was very large—10 pounds, 8 ounces—and when the midwife or one of the nurses announced the number, I said, “Are you fucking kidding me?” before sinking back into this weird fog. It turns out I lost a lot of blood, had a fever, and was still suffering the effects of the drugs. When they put her in bed with me later, I just remember staring at her, thinking, “Whose baby is this?”

Did you experience guilt?

Not at first. I was just totally numb. I had immediate postpartum depression, and felt like a failure for not being able to breastfeed her. Not to mention, she turned colicky at about two weeks old. She screamed for four months straight, every minute she was awake. I was just desperately hanging on and I remember being on edge and dreading each day.

After that, I did feel guilty. I was depressed because I didn’t love her. I remember looking at her and thinking that I understood why some mothers walk out the door and never come back, and then felt even more guilty for having those thoughts.

When did things change?

One morning when she was around four months old, she woke up with a smile on her face. It was like someone had replaced her with another baby in the middle of the night. She was happy, started napping well and sleeping through the night. I was floored by the change and so, so relieved.

I don’t clearly remember the moment when things changed, but I do remember the feeling. She was around six months old. My whole heart constricted and I looked at her little face and realized I loved her. I’m sure we were doing something totally ordinary as we did every day. This is the same time my husband finally started to bond with her as well. The newborn phase and the experience of my birth and dealing with me and my emotions had done him in, too.