I never saw myself as someone who was particularly fond of babies, but after the birth of my daughter, motherhood unfolded for me in ways I hadn’t expected. The experience of giving birth was overwhelmingly powerful, and the connection with my newborn was instantaneous. Despite the myths I had heard, breastfeeding was smooth and comfortable for both of us.
However, I faced challenges I hadn’t anticipated. Taking a year off work seemed like the best choice for my baby at the time. Yet, after a few joyful months, I found myself increasingly anxious and unsure of how to engage with this little person throughout the day. The hours stretched endlessly from the moment my partner left for work until he returned home. I tried to fill my time with coffee gatherings, music lessons, and walks, but the monotony became stifling. I loved my daughter dearly, but the repetitive nature of infant care was overwhelming.
As my maternity leave progressed, it became even harder. My daughter began waking multiple times during the night, leading to severe sleep deprivation, which intensified my anxiety and bouts of depression. Disturbing thoughts would invade my mind, and I often found myself lashing out emotionally at my partner, who remained my unwavering support throughout this tumultuous time. I am forever thankful for his patience and love.
Looking back, I realize I was trapped in my own home—a self-imposed cage—and I should have returned to work sooner. I doubted my ability to balance being a working mother and even considered quitting my job. However, after crunching the numbers with my partner, we concluded that living on his income alone wasn’t feasible, which thankfully kept me from making that drastic decision.
Once my daughter adjusted to full-time daycare, I was terrified to return to work. Yet, the moment I stepped back into my job, it felt like a lifeline; I could finally breathe again. While I had always envisioned having just one child, I became haunted by guilt for not giving my daughter a sibling. I told myself that another child would impose a financial burden, exacerbate my mental health struggles, and disturb the balance we had worked so hard to create. I also recognized that I lacked the patience to manage more than one child, and I didn’t have the support network to help me through it.
In my mind, I felt I needed a “legitimate” reason for choosing to have only one child, fearing that others would see me as selfish. Occasionally, I would feel a pull toward wanting another child; I’d get swept up in fantasies of name lists, envisioning my daughter at ultrasounds, and dreaming of her meeting her new sibling for the first time. But just as quickly, dread would wash over me, and I’d be relieved knowing that the window for conception was closed that month.
My thoughts became a chaotic storm, and I often brought up the topic with my partner, which drained him. He expressed that he’d be content with either one or two children, but he rightfully prioritized my mental health. I wanted him to make the decision for me, but ultimately, the choice was mine.
It was during a session with a therapist, someone who offered a non-judgmental ear, that I finally gained clarity. I realized that my indecision stemmed from external pressures—what if my daughter resented me for not giving her a sibling? What would people think? Unlike many who face infertility or other significant challenges, my situation seemed uncomplicated, which made me feel as though I had no valid justification for having just one child.
Recognizing my fear of societal judgment was a turning point that led me to understand what I truly wanted, rather than what I believed I should want. I came to embrace the fact that my daughter was perfect for our family, and that one child was enough. For the first time in three years, I felt a sense of peace about my decision, which, in turn, alleviated my anxiety.
Someday, my daughter may ask why I chose not to have another child and why I never “gave” her a sibling. I hope she will come to appreciate all that I have provided for her and never feel like she missed out. She is nearly four now—smart, kind, and full of life. Every stage has had its challenges, but I now approach parenting with patience and resilience. I strive to be fully present for her when we’re together, relishing the time we share, and I have the opportunity to recharge when we are apart.
In the end, my decision wasn’t based on any single reason—it was about what I believed was best for our family. And finally, I can say, that’s okay with me.
For more insights related to parenting and the journey of family planning, you can check out this article on home insemination. If you’re exploring options for starting a family, consider reviewing resources on fertility coverage, as they can provide valuable information.
Summary
This article delves into the author’s internal struggles with parenting decisions, especially regarding having only one child. It highlights the pressures of societal expectations and the author’s journey toward self-acceptance and peace with her family choice.