She lives in Kent and when she’s not working or parenting (ie. never) she may find the time to do a spot of knitting!
I hate to break it to you all, as I’m sure you’ve been deceived into thinking that your children are the best. But, I have to reveal to you that, in fact, my very own one year old is the best one year old that ever lived.
She has never been to the doctors, she rarely cries, she smiles at everyone and she is content to be passed around. She is happy, literally all the time. Even when she’s teething we don’t hear so much of a whimper but just have a couple of days of lovely, clingy cuddles instead. She now sleeps through the night and wakes at a reasonable hour. She’ll eat whatever you put in front of her. She even does what she’s told. She is a pleasure to parent!
So this has left me in a bit of a conundrum. When it comes to the issue of adding to our little family, I am now inclined to think that we should just quit while we’re ahead. I mean, Ruby has been such a low maintenance baby that I’m finding it hard to believe that we could be so lucky next time around. Lightning never strikes twice, right?
We were always intent on having more children. My husband is from a family of four very close boys. I’m the middle child of three. We both grew up enjoying having siblings and my husband has been known to remark that having only one child is the equivalent of child neglect… don’t take him seriously on that one – he’s toned down his views since actually having one! He’d like a football team, I was aiming for two, three if I was still going for one of each gender.
On a practical level, once you get to three kids the house and the car have to be so much bigger (we’re barely affording our two bed house and at 30 we are both yet to learn to drive!).
So to have another child, would rock the boat wouldn’t it?
It would upset our equilibrium. We’re very happy with our perfect little bundle. She brings so much joy to our lives and we love her eternally. I’m not inclined to think that I wouldn’t have enough love to pour into another – I know that not to be the case. But I worry that other aspects of our lives would suffer – our finances, our careers, the pressures of multi-parenting. And that’s all if the next child is equally as perfect. I mean… what if they’re a screaming, colicky, tantrum throwing child who needs more attention?
I’ve survived becoming a mum, but it’s been hard, it’s been a major adjustment but now I feel we’re on an even keel. Another baby would surely throw us right back to square one?
Before Ruby came along, if I saw a newborn baby I would literally ache for my own. Now it doesn’t feel like that. I am genuinely content with what I have. Will the ache return when the time is right? Or now that I’ve become a mum is it all down to preference rather than an innate need?
This is all very thought out. And I know that one day I’ll probably wake up and say “Let’s have a baby!” and we will, and we’ll make it work, and we’ll pay for it the best we can. And we’ll make a zillion sacrifices but it will all be worth it. And I know that whatever happens, that baby will be the best baby that ever lived at that moment, in our eyes. And you never know, maybe we’ll keep going. Maybe we will end up with that football team!
But the jump from one child to two seems like such a leap. Such an impossibility. Such a gamble. A decision where your life will never be the same, ever again. Does it get easier after two? Or do you just keep going for it, cross your fingers and hope for the best?
Is one the magic number? 2? 3? 10?
And did anyone else feel this way when deciding on growing their family? Is it a matter for the heart rather than the head? I’d love to know what you think!