"The life I built for myself was taken away from me. I had so much potential, and a child ruined that..."

"I do love my child, and make sure that she knows it. If I could go back in time, I could not say with certainty that I would have her again, but I do love her very much, and I always strive to be an emotionally present dad. It isn't her fault she was born, and she should never have to feel unwanted, so I shower her with love and make sure I'm always there for her."

"I'm tired of being tired and frustrated all the time."

"Seriously, who in their right mind could enjoy this? It's irrational. I guess you may reap the rewards later if the kid is well-adjusted, likes you, and leads an interesting life, but that's a gamble.

I'm seriously hoping to get some respite when he goes to school because I can take a break from work on weekdays, but then I won't see him that much if I work on weekends."

"I had my son at the start of the COVID lockdown. He almost killed us both during birth, and there are many days when I wish he had. I struggled with postpartum depression after my first child. We don't have a village, despite people's promises to help. My husband and I are both burnt out. My son is autistic, and it's hard being his parent. The delays, interventions, and time-consuming efforts to make him successful are draining. My daughter is neurotypical, and she is thousands of times easier.

I tell everyone I meet who talks about having kids to remember that children are optional. I tell them to ignore the societal push for kids; it’s okay not to have kids. I say it to everyone, and people laugh, but it’s not a joke; it’s real-life advice.

It does not feel safe to say that you wish you didn’t have children. I am fairly open about the struggles. I love my children, I take care of them, and they know I love them, but when I start mentioning to other parents how hard they are and how I wish I could be free again, I hear the same sentiment echoed back at me. Kids are hard and isolating, and it's helpful to know it’s not just me."

"Had I known this is how parenthood was going to be for me, I 100% would not have had children, but I can’t turn back time, so I just go through the motions. 

"It’s gotten better as he’s gotten older, but I still have anxiety and regret around how much pain and suffering he’ll inevitably experience."

"My little ones are living their best lives, but I regret having them because the realization has dawned that I cannot fully protect them forever. And I hate that so much. I hate that I had them and put them in this situation. Why did I do that? Will they blame me next time? Did they ask to be here? Will they have good lives? Am I doing enough? Could I do more? 

It’s the constant fight within me to want to give them all of me and protect them while letting them go at the same time. That is what I regret."

"I was raised very religious. Not only were we pressured to get married as early as possible, but we were also pressured to have children as early as possible. There was no time for thinking, only time to obey and have faith it would work out.

Thankfully, I am no longer religious, and my kids aren't either, because I refuse to do that to them, but either way, I still have children, whether I thought about it or not.

I regret that I gave up my life to raise them. I regret that I'm codependent, and their pain is mine. But none of that is their fault. It's all on me. I wish I had known how hard it was."

"I miss my freedom. I miss not having to plan leaving the house around nap times, diaper changes, and her temperament for the day. None of the 'benefits' of having a kid are worth the downsides. She is so cute, but it doesn't do anything for me. It doesn't fill the cup that I can pour back into her. I've done every type of therapy, medication, meditation, and mindset shift possible, yet it all leads back to the same conclusion: I hate being a parent, and I hate that I allowed myself to be pressured into it.

I tried asking my husband to let me give up my rights, but he refused. I'm stuck, but I'm not abused, and I know my situation could be 100x worse. This isn't the life that I built for myself; that was taken away from me. I had so much potential, and a child ruined that. Even if I can leave eventually, I'll never be the same. It's been hard to come to terms with."

"We’re trying our hardest to be the best parents we can be, because I know that my son didn’t force me to have him. This is our selfish decision to bring him into this world, so it’s our responsibility to do all we can.

Even today, I still don’t feel the overwhelming maternal love that people always talk about. All I feel is responsibility. We've spent so many sleepless nights thinking to ourselves, 'This is our decision. Our son isn’t the one to blame. We have to carry on.' People keep telling me that 'things will get better,' 'you’ll love your child more than yourself,' 'kids are the best gifts,' etc., but the worst part is, even when things are good, I still don’t feel like this 'good time' is worth all my effort, tiredness, and financial drain.

My son is a good kid. I had an easy pregnancy with no morning sickness, my husband is caring and loving — but if we could turn back time, we would decide not to have a kid.

"My house is always a mess (it's seriously disgusting), and I'm ashamed. Every time I clean, it feels like I make no progress; it's always one step forward and two steps back. My kids live in a messy house with parents who can't properly regulate their emotions. 

If I knew I was going fail this badly at adulting, I'd never have kids. I hate that I can't give them a better life."

"I don’t feel like anyone took me seriously when I said I couldn’t handle being a mother. The only thing keeping me on Earth is the fact that this little girl doesn’t deserve to feel abandoned because of my own choices. I will do what I can for her, and hopefully she will never know how dark and empty I feel inside. My cup isn’t full. I can’t pull myself together for the sake of being better for her, like so many people said I would be able to. 

Every day is Groundhog Day, and when you have a neurodivergent kid, it can be lonely, very lonely. I miss everything. Having kids is for young people who don’t know any better. Being almost 40 with a 4-year-old is exhausting, and I honestly hate that I can’t admit to anyone around me that I actually hate it. I love her, but not the responsibility and isolation."

"Plus, it's wrecked my marriage. I know that's on us, but I couldn't have predicted just how much it would change things. My spouse and I used to bond over going out and doing fun activities together; it wasn't until we had children and had to stop doing those things that I realized they basically never speak unless we're actively engaged in something. Sure, we can go out and do things together, but the focus is now on the children rather than on each other and what we're doing together. Honestly, I don't really want to be married anymore.

None of this is the children's fault, so I just try my hardest to be the best person I can be for them."

"When older people try to give you guidance in life, don't think you know better than they do. I wish I weren't so stubborn and listened to them more. I love my kids more than anything and am so proud to be a mom, but I do have regrets about those things."

"I am trying my best for my son. He didn't ask for that, and I'm the one who chose to bring him into the world, but my partner and I both decided that kids were a one-and-done for us.

We also feel like we owe him an apology when we're older for being born into a horrible world. We were pregnant when COVID hit, and everything has just gone straight downhill. We've accepted he'll probably live with us forever, and it just seems so unfair to him."

Note: Some responses have been edited for length and/or clarity.