One and Done
Posted By Daisy on July 13, 2010
“One and Done.” The first time I heard the phrase, I thought it was too cute by half. Now, though, I see it’s elegance. It’s pithy, leaves little opening for intrusive follow up questions, and is breezy enough to let it be known that you are absolutely fine and happy with an only child. Everyone seems to assume people want multiple children. Even our fertility doctor noted that we’d better get on the ball planning for number two, before we had even given birth to our son. After our guy arrived, I definitively didn’t want a number two. Initially the reasons were very simplistic and visceral. I did NOT want to go through IVF protocols, be pregnant, and give birth again. The doctors covering labor and delivery in the hospital are smart — they offer you a Depo-Provera shot the day after your child’s birth. I said yes without hesitation, without even consulting my husband.
Then when my head cleared and the general scariness and discomfort of the whole process were no longer at the forefront of my mind, there were all the practical reasons. I am tired. Too tired. Some women do well with a whole brood, but I cannot imagine having the energy for it. And of course there is the money. With one, I have the luxury of taking at least a sabbatical from corporate life (a desire I did not foresee at all before we had a child). We can make it work on one income, though private school could be off the table, and certain luxuries will have to go. With two or more kids? No way. I’d be enslaved forever to the dual jobs of lawyering and mothering. I know if you’re creative as a family you can almost always “make it work” on one income. But I’m married to a spendthrift. (I was one too, when we first got married — I just seem to have had an easier time applying the tourniquet post-baby.) I don’t WANT to have to get crazy creative about spending cuts, nor do I want my husband to feel unduly pressured to move to a higher paying job. And the thought of me returning to the practice of law seriously makes me want to throw myself in front of a bus.
Really, though, it’s not even the practical stuff that was the deciding factor for me. None of the many arguments for having more children were compelling. Some say only children have trouble learning to play well with others. Onlies have cousins, friends and classmates — they can indeed learn to be gracious and not chary with their possessions (particularly if you make it a parenting priority.) Others point out how sibling relationships can be wonderful and like no other. While I absolutely cherish my brother, I’ve seen dysfunctional siblings too, and it ain’t pretty. Oh, and my least favorite argument is that it’s important to have more children to share the burden once we’re old. Pardon me, but fuck that. I do plan on having the resources and foresight to require very little in my old old age, for the very selfish reason of not wishing to be regarded as a “burden” on my child(ren) at all, EVER.
The only reason to have another child that ever rang true to me was a desire to love another child. Here’s the thing, though. If I may get all Jerry McGuire on you for a moment — my son completes me. Or, rather, completes us. I simply do not need another.
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I’ve been contemplating this as well. I thought I was done when my son was born, but now that he’s a little older, I find myself contemplating number 2. We’ll see what happens, but I do have to say, if number 2 were never to arrive, I don’t think I’d be that broken up about it.
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“Some women do well with a whole brood, but I cannot imagine having the energy for it. ”
My thoughts exactly. That, and patience. I have so much admiration for women who can handle more than one. I know myself well enough to know that I one is plenty for me.
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