I’m currently infertile at the ripe old age of 27. Technically, I’ve been trying to have another child since my son was 10 months old — so, almost three years now.
And nothing’s happening.
But as my son starts growing up, I’m realizing that there are some huge benefits to having just one child. It seems like these days and throughout history, mamas love to pop out a second kid just seconds after their first is born.
I don’t blame them. I used to want to do the same. But now I’m so, so glad that didn’t happen.
Here’s why.
When my son is at preschool, I get to do whatever I damn well please
Every morning, when I walk my son into school, I see moms dragging car seats in through the doors for a 2-second drop-off at their older child’s classroom.
Other moms have older babies slung over their shoulders, speed-walking indoors to try to keep the baby asleep through the drop-off.
I pity them. And I’m glad I’m not one of them.
When my son goes to school, I get to go home to a blissfully quiet house. I sit in my office, work, and sip a latte without hands tugging my hair or trying to type on my laptop.
It’s freaking amazing.
By the time three hours are up, I’m excited to see my kiddo again. (But that doesn’t mean I won’t appreciate the extra time to myself when he hits kindergarten!)
No extra kids to entertain during therapy/sports/activities
My friends with two or more kids groan about sports and extracurricular activities. Even if their kids do the same sport, they’re in different age groups, so my mama friends end up trying to keep the younger child(ren) busy for an hour in a waiting room during the older kid’s lesson, and vice versa.
My son is autistic, so he goes to speech and occupational therapy for a couple hours a week. Instead of keeping a second, younger child busy during that time, I go to a coffee shop or library and read, work, or just sit.
Again, freaking amazing.
My son can play by himself
I’m not saying he plays independently all the time, because he doesn’t. There are definitely times when I wish he had a sibling to play with.
But recently, he’s begun to get into an imaginative space all on his own. He does different voices for his Lego Duplo people, flies toy airplanes, and builds train tracks, lost in his play.
It’s beautiful to witness.
On the other hand, friends with two or more kiddos struggle when the older child starts school, because the younger siblings — so accustomed to having a playmate — don’t know how to play alone.
Fights? What fights?
My mom claims that my younger sister and I never fought, but we did. Or rather, I sometimes tormented her and then lied to my parents about it.
I specifically remember a time when I was mad at her, so I slapped her, and she started to cry.
“What’s wrong?” my mom called back from the living room.
“Nothing! She just fell but I’m comforting her,” I said.
What a little butt.
Having been told all our lives that tattling was wrong, my poor sister never told my parents about this incident.
With one child, I don’t have to worry about fights happening — before my eyes or behind my back.
It’s relatively easy for my spouse and me to switch back and forth
Right now, life is hectic. My husband, a teacher, works during the day while I take care of our son in the morning, take him to his half-day preschool, go to work, pick him back up, and read or play together. I also take him to therapy and all playdates.
When my husband gets home, he takes over the childcare and I go to my home office to work.
Unlike other only children, my son does not possess some extra aura of maturity. He’s 3, through and through, and rarely stops moving.
I love him to pieces. I also can’t imagine having two such energetic kids to watch all day before going to work, and then handing them off to my tired spouse.
There is no question of which kid is my favorite
“You’re my one and only,” I whisper to my son all the time. “My favorite baby in the universe.”
I would never be able to say that if I had two kids.
Even though my parents deny it, I knew my sister was their favorite. She was younger, cuter, and more compliant than I was. I was the harder kid to parent. I have a wonderful relationship with my parents now, but it must’ve been rough to raise me.
Once, after picking us both up from school, my mom didn’t say anything when I hopped into the front seat. Then she turned and said, “Hi, Sara!” to my sister, and I started to cry.
I’m sure she felt terrible. She doesn’t remember this.
But I can’t quite forget the feeling of being the no-less-loved but definitely less-favored child.
So, do I still want another baby?
I used to positively ache for a second child. But now I’m torn.
The perks of multiple kids are documented all over the place, because you mamas of two or more are in the majority.
And I’m good with you, as long as you don’t make me feel like less of a mother because I “just” have one. (Yes, people have said things like that before.)
I love my just one.
And, if he stays my "one and only" forever, I’ll love that too.
