I received the opposite care. Was delivered by C-section, no contact with anyone while in incubation for several weeks. My mother would often tell the story of how she was unable to touch me for weeks after my birth.<p>45 years on and I haven’t a single bond, not with family, not with friends, not even with animals. Like a ghost floating through the world with no attachments and seemingly no compelling interest in them. Active avoidance is on point. But don't be sad for me. It's just the way I developed. And the lack of bonding, skin-to-skin contact with my mother is one possible reason.<p>They’ve tried to make a number of diagnoses fit, from autism to Schizoid Personality Disorder, Bipolar to Asperger's. Nothing. Nothing fits. There's nothing wrong with me except that I don't bond, at all.<p>One of the more disturbing experiences was watching what happened to chimpanzees when their mothers were taken away from them after birth (or were denied bonding entirely). They rock back and forth with anxiety; they grapple for the nearest comfy thing; more rocking. It was like watching myself. I'm typing this 45 years later holding a pillow for comfort. You'll rarely see me seated without one. I rock all the time. The pillow, the rocking. They fill a hole. It's protective somehow. I'm sure a shrink would say it reminds me of the womb that was stolen from me.<p>And I know I'll live the rest of my life like this, without bond, alone, and not really sad because of it, just totally missing what compels others towards their own kind, to bond.<p>So, yeah, more skin-to-skin sooner. No more lost people like me. Again: not sad about it, but life without others
(and very much not wanting them) can be a severe challenge. You have only yourself.