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At 5.30am, I had been up for three hours. My head was thumping, I knew I had to go to work in an hour and all I wanted to do was have a bit of sleep. But my little man was not well and only healthy doses of the Night Garden would distract. So there I was, trying not to dose off while Upsy Daisy and friends danced on.
On days like this, I wonder how people ever have the energy to cope with more than one baby. I can barely survive with one. So when people ask me when I’m going to have another it’s all I can do not to laugh hysterically and then break
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down in tears.
I always wanted two children. I am one of two, my husband is one of two. Two seemed about right, balanced. And then we had one. And now that seems like enough.
We are a team, him and I. We go to the Marks and Spencer’s cafe together; I have a cup of tea and he has his mango. We go to Winchester Cathedral when the weather is nice and chill out on the grass in the sunshine. Why we would disrupt our lovely little dynamic and our routines? Can I not enjoy his company for a bit longer without complicating it all?
I am constantly
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overwhelmed by my feelings towards my boy. I thought I knew love, I am in love, I love my husband, I love my family, my friends. But nothing like this. If you want to know what love is, have a baby. It will scare the shit out of you.
Like any mother, I worry constantly. I imagine terrible ways that could befall him, horrid ways he could die or be kidnapped. Some realistic, some hilariously unlikely. I wonder if this worry would multiply with more. How would I ever keep an eye on two? How would I keep my babies safe?
My main fear about not having
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more, is that by depriving him of a brother or a sister I am impeding his development and stunting his emotional growth in some way. I always loved having a brother, and still do. Someone to play with, to fight with without apology, and later, someone to go to the pub with and be an ally in our slightly eccentric family. My little man would have cousins and friends, but am I doing him a disservice by not providing a sibling?
I was told recently, in a passing comment, that having one child wasn’t a proper family. In this day and age I was stunned. A
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family can be anything from one mum and six babies to two dads and one baby. It can be a couple and no babies. ’Having Children’ isn’t compulsory and never should be. It is a huge undertaking, a massive responsibility both emotionally and financially. Your family can be anything you want it to be.
I look at people with two children and wonder how do they do it. How do they function on even less sleep? How do they ever maintain a relationship with their husbands? How do they look after two frustrating demanding little all consuming bundles and still
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maintain a sense of themselves, or their sanity?
I wrestle with the decision constantly, only too aware that as the months tick by the age gap for the squeaker and his elusive sibling gets ever bigger. We still package up his used baby clothes in carefully labelled boxes in the loft, stored alongside the carry cot, steriliser and other bits of baby paraphernalia we don’t use anymore.
Maybe one day the hormones will kick in and I’ll be desperate for another. Maybe one of our friends will have a baby boy and I’ll realise they can’t have the
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hand-me-downs and we do need them after all. Until then the boxes will remain firmly in the loft, and me and my ’proper family’ will continue our trips to M&S as a twosome.
Read more posts by Louisa here
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Louisa de Lange - 28 Feb 14
At 5.30am, I had been up for three hours. My head was thumping, I knew I had to go to work in an hour and all I wanted to do was have a bit of sleep. But my little man was not well and only healthy doses of the Night Garden would distract. So there I was, trying not to dose off while Upsy Daisy and friends danced on.
On days like this, I wonder how people ever have the energy to cope with more than one baby. I can barely survive with one. So when people ask me when I’m going to have another it’s all I can do not to laugh hysterically and then break down in tears.
I always wanted two children. I am one of two, my husband is one of two. Two seemed about right, balanced. And then we had one. And now that seems like enough.
We are a team, him and I. We go to the Marks and Spencer’s cafe together; I have a cup of tea and he has his mango. We go to Winchester Cathedral when the weather is nice and chill out on the grass in the sunshine. Why we would disrupt our lovely little dynamic and our routines? Can I not enjoy his company for a bit longer without complicating it all?
I am constantly overwhelmed by my feelings towards my boy. I thought I knew love, I am in love, I love my husband, I love my family, my friends. But nothing like this. If you want to know what love is, have a baby. It will scare the shit out of you.
Like any mother, I worry constantly. I imagine terrible ways that could befall him, horrid ways he could die or be kidnapped. Some realistic, some hilariously unlikely. I wonder if this worry would multiply with more. How would I ever keep an eye on two? How would I keep my babies safe?
My main fear about not having more, is that by depriving him of a brother or a sister I am impeding his development and stunting his emotional growth in some way. I always loved having a brother, and still do. Someone to play with, to fight with without apology, and later, someone to go to the pub with and be an ally in our slightly eccentric family. My little man would have cousins and friends, but am I doing him a disservice by not providing a sibling?
I was told recently, in a passing comment, that having one child wasn’t a proper family. In this day and age I was stunned. A family can be anything from one mum and six babies to two dads and one baby. It can be a couple and no babies. ‘Having Children’ isn’t compulsory and never should be. It is a huge undertaking, a massive responsibility both emotionally and financially. Your family can be anything you want it to be.
I look at people with two children and wonder how do they do it. How do they function on even less sleep? How do they ever maintain a relationship with their husbands? How do they look after two frustrating demanding little all consuming bundles and still maintain a sense of themselves, or their sanity?
I wrestle with the decision constantly, only too aware that as the months tick by the age gap for the squeaker and his elusive sibling gets ever bigger. We still package up his used baby clothes in carefully labelled boxes in the loft, stored alongside the carry cot, steriliser and other bits of baby paraphernalia we don’t use anymore.
Maybe one day the hormones will kick in and I’ll be desperate for another. Maybe one of our friends will have a baby boy and I’ll realise they can’t have the hand-me-downs and we do need them after all. Until then the boxes will remain firmly in the loft, and me and my ‘proper family’ will continue our trips to M&S as a twosome.
Read more posts by Louisa here
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