If you’ve been in this room for some time, you probably know that I am the parent of a 10 year old who it is my only child. But the road to parenting a child was longer and more winding than you might think.
Whether and how we would have more children was a question that preoccupied my husband and me for several years. I was recently reminded of this inner struggle when I came across this question Slate’s grooming and feeding column:
My husband and I are at a crossroads when it comes to having a second child. We have an adorable, fun, sweet 2 year old, and my husband is pretty happy with how things are going and doesn’t really want to go back to Babyland. And I don’t know that I want to go back there either! I had a tough time after giving birth, physically and emotionally. However, my midwife tells me that the physical part is unlikely to repeat itself and I feel better prepared for the emotional part. But we are also concerned about the cost of two children in daycare. And at the moment we have a good rhythm to take turns looking after our son so that we both have time – and who knows if we would have this luxury for two? I feel so close to making the decision to stop being at peace with one … but I always thought we’d have two and it’s hard to let go of that vision. Aside from all of my complications after giving birth to my son, I loved the little baby days and wish I could enjoy them again without pain. All of the adults I know who have been only children themselves have two or more children – which makes me think they know something about the experience of being alone that I don’t! I worry my son will be lonely or have no one to understand his childhood.
A lot of my experiences are reflected in this question, starting with the initial vision of having a family with at least two children, then finding a slight groove with just one, and ending with the worry that my son might miss something fundamentally important if he did had no siblings. There were times in his childhood when I was perfectly satisfied as a family of three, and there were times when I felt a void that only the presence of another child could fill.
I also know parents who always thought they would have exactly two children, but were unexpectedly forced to have a third (or fourth) in a way they could never have imagined. I think it is a common experience that parents look at this question from every angle, seek outside confirmation that it is okay to change course, fear that you will later regret every decision you make, and even feel compelled to ask a stranger about the internet: How do I know if I’m really done having children?
(You can go to read Michelle Herman’s answer to that question herebut basically it boils down to what it should be, “You should have a second child if you want to have a second child, which you and your partner must decide together, and if you decide against it, that is.” absolutely okay.”)
Knowing how complicated the decision was for me – and how easy it sometimes seems to others – made me curious about how others came to the “Yes, we’re done!” Of course, all of this assumes that the choice is yours alone. Sometimes life steps in and it decides for you, which in my case ultimately happened.
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I wrote about it our way as foster parents who intended to adopt through the child welfare system if circumstances led us to – although after two referrals over two years they ultimately did not. We let our foster license expire and tried to have another biological child. Two miscarriages later, when friends were still telling me to hold on lest I lose faith that it was going to happen for us, I knew I was done. We could have tried again, but for the first time in more than seven years of parenting, I looked around and said, “Yeah, we’re all done here. It’s a blow to the Walbert family. ”I know that sounds painful – and it was – but I also felt easier at that moment when the decision was finally made.
Every family’s journey to completion is interesting to me. So if you feel like it, let us know yours in the comments. Did you always know that you wanted two children and had just that? Have you been surprised by twins that made you decide, at least in terms of the number of pregnancies, that you were one? Did you think you would only want one and ended up choosing a third one (or vice versa)? Were you and your partner always on the same page or did you have to decide whose preference prevailed in the end? Did you want more children but had secondary infertility that made it impossible?
How did you know when you were done having children – or how are you trying to find out?
