One And Done

When every 'first' is also your 'last'

Last week I got my coil put back in and although it was something that felt right, I also felt a little sad.

I was so sure I only wanted one child it was actually in my birth plan to get my coil put back in. But I ended up in the theatre losing a lot of blood so they advised me to recover first.

Time has slipped by and over a year later I finally got round to making the appointment.

The nurse made chit chat with my legs in stirrups.

Do you have children? She asked
Yes, I said.
How many? she continued
One, I said.
She peered up through my legs.
No more? she asked her eyebrow raised
Not if you do your job properly I thought.
No, I said. I'm one and done.

She waited for a beat. A beat I've waited out many times. And then she got back to the job in hand. Once finished she said ok all done, that will last you 8 years. I did the maths, I'll be 46 years old. Probably in perimenopause, my reproductive days in the rear view mirror.

There are many reasons I could point to for why we have decided to have one child (and one large dog which does play into the calculation). Another kid will stretch our finances to the point where we will have to make significant life changes, including me probably going to get a job with a regular and higher income. We are lucky enough to have so much help from my parents who are in their 70s and to ask them to help us with two feels like too big an ask. Our house and car just fits us all perfectly, another would suddenly make everything tight.

But I know all of the above becomes redundant if you really want another child. We’d find a way to balance the books, and we'd figure out childcare, we’d get a roof box for the car, I'd redesign the house, I know we'd make it work.

The real reason we are only having one is because our family feels complete. That's it.

I am an only child and I had a wonderful childhood. Sure, I was bored now and again but that fuelled my creativity and now I have a career where I get paid to make magic from nothing! I have a wonderful relationship with my parents, we speak every day. I don't have siblings but I have incredible friends who are like family to me.

My experience as an only child means I don't have the inbuilt fear that people seem to have about only having one child. When people say 'it's cruel' I actually laugh. I personally think I'm extremely well adjusted. Of course, I have my issues but from what I can see they are no more than my friends with siblings, they are just a different flavour. I've got a bit of first born over achiever energy, a little attention seeking middle child and a sprinkle of spoiled little shit who gets away with murder, all rolled into one.

But I’d be lying if I said having one child has not come with the odd moment of sadness that has caught me off guard.

Recently Ozzy has started walking. After holding our fingers tight for weeks one day he woke up and didn't need us. He walked alone. We jumped and clapped and celebrated with him so full of pride. Look at him go… And then I was hit with a wave of sadness. My baby is gone and I'll never have a baby again.

I felt the same after Ozzy decided he no longer wanted to breastfeed. On one hand I finally had my body back, but on the other I realised I would never feed a child again. The memory of what it felt like to breastfeed I could feel slipping away. I took to my journal and furiously started writing my breastfeeding memories to try and capture them to keep forever.

When I see people with newborns I don’t feel like I want another but I wish I could replay holding my newborn back in my mind viscerally. The weight, the smell, the tiredness, the touch, it feels like it's all fading and I feel so sad about it. No pictures do it justice. No videos put me back there in a satisfying way.

What I have come to realise as a first-time, one-time mum is that the joy of every first will come with a little sadness of also being the last and that’s ok.

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