A very nice taxi driver once lectured me on how it’s healthy to have more than one child. He has four! His wife is a stay-at-home mum and according to him absolutely loves it. I’d like to ask her myself. I never take a man’s word for it, especially where childbirth is involved. So Mr So-and-So when was the last time you passed a watermelon through your penis? Failing that, any scars on your abdomen where the scalpel aided in birthing your child? I guess I’m being unfair, but I bristle like a frayed brush whenever I get lectured about only having the one child. It’s rude quite frankly and advice I’m not interested in hearing. He probably thought he was giving me wise counsel and I do not hold it against him. It’s a common thing to think that what is good for the goose is good for the gander. It’s so easy to impose your values on others’ - we all have our own way of living life. But do not lecture me on motherhood and how many children you think I should produce!
What is this obsession with the 2.1 kids anyway? Is it so abnormal to just have the one? Perhaps I’ll grow a horrible beard if I do not adhere to the biological urge to breed further. I did it once (and grew a rather modest moustache). Does this not suffice? I have had the usual: “But it’s selfish to just have one (child – not beard). What about when you grow old and she’s all by herself in the world?” Response:
I would hope she is able to create a life for herself without clinging to my apron strings or anybody else’s. What’s to say she’ll like her siblings and that they’ll get on? I myself have had a pretty volatile relationship with my own siblings and I have to say, as much as I love them (sometimes), we have very little in common. I also happen to have many friends and acquaintances who are ‘only’ children, and they turned out fine overall. Besides, she’ll inherit all the money, the house, the clothes and jewellery (ha), most likely my smelly old trainers and my last Rollo. Stop with the guilt trips already! What about those women who for one reason or another cannot have children or choose not to have any? Are they biological failures and lesser women? I hark back to Henry VIII and his obsession with siring a son to inherit the throne of England upon his death. He went through wives like a ferret through a tunnel, discarding them when they failed to produce the desired objective. Saying this there were other factors too, of course. I’m generalising and being simplistic just to make a point. But it’s not surprising that in some cultures women are indeed looked upon as breeding mares.
I am happy with the one child and my husband (which equates to two children really). I do not need to flaunt my fecund womb to all and sundry yet again (that branch of Tesco’s will never forget THAT day). Especially not to myself! 43 hours labour and post natal depression has seen to that. My daughter was so comfortable lying within my accommodating hips she didn’t want to come out; the effects of which I still feel to this day. I would have to be mentally deranged to have another. I have thought about it and we have discussed it. I’m not anti second child, just that for us it’s wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I do not judge anybody else’s choice in having more than one. Good for you if you can, if not, it’s no big deal either.
Motherhood is a very serious venture. I do not think it’s for everybody and it’s not something one should embark upon lightly. If you’re having kids because you want to keep up with the Jones’s then you’re an idiot. It’s tough; it’s about sacrifices and losing yourself somewhat in the nurturing and upbringing of another. Suddenly you cannot drop everything and indulge a whim, be that a holiday, a night out, a new car. This demanding little creature is the centre of your world and will be for a big chunk of your future. It will change your life! This is no cabbage patch dolly we’re talking about here.
I think back to the horrendous commuting when I went back to work 6 months after giving birth. For 18 months with child in tow I travelled in the cold, the heat, through crowds; the battles on the trains and buses, the unsympathetic stares and mutterings; the fatigue, the despair, the tearing my hair out in sheer desperation at having to live this insane routine. I was lucky to get 5 hours sleep a night. The stress was intense. I had just about got to grips with the practicalities of motherhood – everything having to be planned with military precision – when all of a sudden I was forced to practice my fortitude in an altogether different situation. I had to adapt quickly. It was literally sink or swim. And sinking was always close to the periphery. I nearly lost my mind!
On the plus side, aside from those crappy days where ibuprofen is your best friend and awful moments of despair have made me want to just scream out loud, the joy of watching my child grow and develop into the little lady she is today has all been worth it. There is nothing more rewarding than a child who affectionately puts their arms around you and tells you how much they love you. It’s unconditional and genuine... at least for now. She exacerbates me at times, tests my patience, pushes the wrong buttons to test the boundaries, but she is a joy to have around and lights our world. To see the world through a child’s eyes is a revelation and I have had to take stock and force myself to hold back my sometimes selfish inclinations and remember to be a mother. I have also learned to leave any kind of guilt behind when the need for some space is all the difference between me and my sanity. My daughter would not benefit from a grumpy malcontent in the house. We have a workable understanding. As well as being mummy I am Dragonwyck. And Dragonwyck needs to come out now and again. It’s either that or the broomstick makes an appearance. All mothers need time-out! Dad’s too sometimes.
When I whinge about how old I feel (her boundless energy puts me to shame) she’ll proclaim:
“Mummy you’re not old! You don’t look like a granny; they have wrinkles and no teeth!”
Yes, honey, your mummy will forever be grateful for that marvellous insight. May she continue to flame my lacklustre vanity. The ego is such a fragile thing.
So in answer to the 6 million dollar question and for the umpteenth time...No, I have no plans to have another child. I am content with the one (for this I shall be punished no doubt).
If that should raise an eyebrow or two then so be it. Ask me about it again and I might be a little cryptic in my answer. Better still, a resounding: “mind your own business” might do the trick. I sure as hell wouldn’t miss going to kiddies tea parties, where the topics of conversation make you want to seek out hard drugs, just to numb the banality of it all. Oops how un-motherly of me! How to lose friends and alienate people....oh dear....
