One and done.
That’s us.
It took us almost 7 years to have this child, and we’re old. Not old in the real world, of course…but definitely old in the fertility world. My pregnancy was classified as “geriatric”, which is hilarious, yet strangely fitting.
We struggled for years with infertility and suffered multiple pregnancy losses before finally having our daughter. Had life given us more time, our story (and family tree) might have looked a lot different. But it didn’t, and we’re trying to be ok with that.
It’s a bittersweet decision, of course…but deep down, I think we both know that we can’t afford another journey like the one that just ended – the emotional stakes (as well as the time it took) are just too high. We’re still feeling the effects of it. Still healing.
Knowing for sure that this will be our only child has made me realize that every one of her firsts, is also a last. We will not live these through other children. Her first word will be the last time we’ll ever get to hear a first word the first time it’s uttered, and her first step is the last time we’ll get to see this momentous event. I will never again hold a tiny newborn and gaze in awe at every perfect feature, knowing that my body created such a miracle.
I don’t even know how to describe how that feels. All at once, my heart holds melancholy, nostalgia, joy, grief, sorrow, longing, hope, gratitude, and wonder. Above all, I think it motivates me to fully experience all that I can. To be present, and “in the moment”. To understand deeply just how special all of these little things in life are, and to not take a minute for granted.
Of course, there will be days where I fall short. When I’m not as present, when I’m distracted, or angry, or busy. When life gets in the way a bit, and clouds what’s most important. I’m only human after all. But that, I think, is the gift that an only child gives you. When you know you won’t have another, it forces you to appreciate what you have. And, in true only child fashion, demands that you pay attention.
Purposely having an only child can feel a little daunting. People (sigh, people) will inevitably make comments – they will say that my daughter will miss out if she doesn’t have siblings…that she won’t be socialized properly, she’ll be selfish, or spoiled, or left alone in the world when we die. Lovely thought, that last one.
Those same people will soon start asking when we’re going to have another, and telling me that I’ll regret not trying for more. (If they only knew what it took for us to get one child…would they still say this? Probably.) And I will politely listen to their cliched “advice”, even though it hurts my heart to hear it – smile, nod, and just hope they go away…because you see, I’m actually really happy that we have one child. I’m happy with what we have. I’m not supposed to be, I know. I’m supposed to want more.
During our darkest days, we never thought she’d come. But somehow she is here, and she’s amazing, and beautiful, and perfect. Honestly, how could we ever want anything else?
GLA:D 