If there’s one question every reasonable person knows not to ask a woman who’s not announced her pregnancy, it’s this: ‘When is the baby due?’
It’s pretty obvious why and I’ve never seen it end well.
However, after I had my son, I discovered that there’s a second question everyone needs to know not to ask: ‘When are you going to have another baby?’
I would prefer to be mistakenly called dumb than mistakenly taken for granted that I wanted or was capable of having a second child.
The choice of whether or not to have a baby is enormous. But sometimes life chooses for you. This goes for your second or third or fourth child every bit as much as for your first. I had to fight to get my son. I had to give everything I had, my money and my health, both physical and mental. A second child was not doable. And yet so many people make the leap that because I have one baby, that a second would be possible.
It’s not always possible and comments like ‘Don’t you want your son to have a sibling?’ don’t make it any easier to come to terms with.
For every couple who have just one child, like us, there is a story. There is some kind of hidden narrative that contains either a particular choice or a specific struggle. And when you make a remark such as the one above, you are making accusations, or you are stumbling blindly into someone’s pain or personal choices that are none of your business.
There’s no real middle ground here.
It wasn’t easy to accept that my son would be an only child. There is a strange kind of loss that you go through when you grieve for someone who will never be. And it is tempting to feel guilty about it like somehow I’m betraying my son by having these feelings. But it is essential not to go down that route because, despite my dark struggle with postpartum depression and anxiety, one thing remains absolute and unchanging: My overwhelming gratitude for having a son.
The depression was hell, but my son was a beautiful, chubby-cheeked, bright-eyed angel. While the postpartum depression made me doubt myself, it will never make me doubt him. And yet, being eternally grateful for my child and feeling the sadness that comes with not being able to have another, are two very separate and unrelated emotional states. This isn’t a game show. ‘Oh well, you’re lucky that you have at least one’ shouldn’t be uttered as casually as a gameshow host consoling you with the runner’s up prize when you didn’t win the car.
I want a little girl.
I want her so badly I can almost feel her presence. I can almost see her in my periphery. Like she exists already, I just needed to bring her into this world. But when the choice of having a second child was taken away from me, I had to learn to let go of this soul that had almost become a part of my life. I’m allowed to mourn for that.
But then little by little, I let go of what was not to be. My son is going to be fine without a sibling. In fact, he’s going to be great. He’s going to live and grow with our unconditional love, and he will learn in turn to love unconditionally. He will seek out his own family and friends who share this ability, and he won’t be alone or unsupported or incomplete. And both my husband and I will live full, productive, and happy lives raising him.
It’s okay to just have one child. But there will always, always be a reason behind it.
This is something every family with just one child understands. In fact, I’ve never been asked if I’m going to have any more children or why my family isn’t bigger by a parent who has only one child. I feel a kinship whenever I meet other families like ours because we know from experience that there is an untold reason behind it.
So my final message is this. If you have just one child, you’re not alone. We’re out there. We’re surviving, heck we’re thriving! Don’t feel guilty. Do allow yourself to mourn if you need to.
And if you have several children, just be careful when talking to your friends who only have one. Because there will be a story, there will be logic for it, and they will genuinely appreciate your understanding. We’re all trying to muddle our way through this parenting thing together. And you know what? We’re doing a pretty good job of it too!
Michelle Anastiso-Festi is a wife and doting mom to her son Ethan. She is also an entrepreneur that founded CT Virtual Assistance and PUSH Publicity. She is also an activist for Postpartum Depression, serving on two committees for Postpartum Support International’s CT Chapter, helping moms navigate the challenges of perinatal and postpartum mood disorders.
