The Next Generation Of The Only Child

Rachel Hawkins - 22 Mar 16

I’ve found myself in a bit of a quandary, shall we say.

It’s not a situation I necessarily need to worry about just yet, but more of a recurring thought.

Allow me to tell you all about it.

I’m an only child.   Often, when I inform people of my only child status, I’m met with the comment “Ooooo I bet you were so spoilt growing up”.  A sweeping generalisation to say the least, not to mention an incorrect statement too.  A look of sympathy might break across their face too.  Like it was such a shame for me to not have a brother or a sister.

Both of my parents are only children, thus I have a very small family. I’ve obviously never known any different and as I’ve gotten older it’s a set up that doesn’t bother me.  You can’t miss what you’ve never had, can you?

Like anything in life, there are pros and cons to being an only child.   Was I lonely growing up?  No, not really.  I always had friends, people to play with, talk to and have fun with.  Being ‘sans sibling’ didn’t have a negative effect on me.  At least I don’t think it did.

Historically, when I’ve thought about the family I could see myself having in the future, I saw 2 children. I wouldn’t call myself the maternal type, however I knew from my early twenties that I’d like to be a Mum one day.

Now at the grand old age of 29 and three quarters (yeah, don’t remind me) I’m a Mum to an almost 2 and a half year old. A very proud Mum I must add.

Motherhood hasn’t been the plain sailing journey I naively thought it would be when I got pregnant 3 years ago, however it’s something I very much enjoy now. My son is the love of my life and watching him grow, learn and achieve is my biggest joy.

Suffering from post-natal depression and anxiety during the first year or so was hard. It was the toughest, most exhausting and not to mention heart-breaking year of my life.  Joy is a word I wouldn’t use to describe my first year as a Mum.  In fact the polar opposite would probably best describe how I felt.

However, now that corner has been turned. I’m stronger, happier and the most confident I’ve felt in myself, my capabilities and my life for a long, long time.

Until now, considering another baby just wasn’t an option. Not only because of my mental health but also because of my job and moving house.  Not to mention the fact I wanted to have some time to just focus on my son.  He is the absolute priority.

I guess in my mind, I would like to have another child when my son starts school in a couple of years. I sort of had it all planned in my head what life might look like in a couple of years’ time being the Mother to 2 children.

Sorted. I thought.

There’s no way I could deal with 2 under 2, or even 2 under 3 (kudos to you parents who do it – you have my utmost respect). So an age gap of around 4 to 5 years seemed perfect.  We have a big enough house, both myself and my other half are young (my Dad was 42 when I was born so I often wondered if this was a factor in me being an only child) and I’d love nothing more than to watch my son step into the role of older brother.  In addition, it would be amazing to have the chance to enjoy the first year of Motherhood without the overwhelming feeling of anxiety and depression that engulfed me the first time around.

What I didn’t necessarily bargain for with my future plans was the fact this was very much my own dream. It wasn’t shared by my other half.

I am the only one out of the 2 of us who would like another child.

Right. How am I meant to react to that little bombshell?  That’s quite the game changer.

Both myself and especially my partner feel like we ‘dodged a bullet’ for want of a different saying when our son was born. We both knew there was a chance any child of ours would have Haemophilia, a genetic condition that means a sufferers blood doesn’t clot correctly.  My Maternal Grandfather had it, my Mum is a carrier and I found out aged 19 that I too am a carrier.

When my son was 1 day old, we found out he wasn’t a sufferer from Haemophilia. Amazing news indeed.  A great relief.

With this in mind, I’m of the belief this goes some way to explain why my partner has no desire to increase our family. Of course, I totally understand this, however, I make no apologies for how I feel.  I feel sad.  Really quite sad.  I know going through what we went through when I was ill plays a part too.  Again, I understand this.

Perhaps his opinion might change in the future. Who knows.  Right now, I don’t think it will.  Whenever the topic arises he is staunch in his belief. Unmovable in fact!

I tell myself I should be grateful for what I do have. A healthy, gorgeous and intelligent son who I dote on with every fibre of my being.

However, seeing Mums on social media and the like, announcing their impending arrivals and knowing they had their first borns around the same time as me, is sometimes hard.

Believe me when I say I’m not desperate for another baby right now. I’m really, really not.

It’s just that, thinking there’s a strong possibility I won’t get to hold my own new-born for the first time again does make me feel a little disappointed.

As I’ve previously mentioned, writing is a cathartic process for me. Hence being so candid with this article perhaps.

I’d love to hear from you if this subject is something you’re familiar with. Perhaps you only had one child and wished you had more or maybe you’re an only child yourself.

I don’t fear for my son if he stays an only child. There’s nothing to fear in my opinion.  However, deep down I know he’d make the most fantastic big brother and I guess I’d like to see how a relationship between siblings evolves, as I have very little knowledge on this myself.

But then, like I said, I can’t miss what I don’t have, can I?

http://ourrachblogs.com

Rachel Hawkins

Almost 30 year old (eeeek) Mother to one from Bristol. Writing about whatever takes my fancy, mainly due to the fact 140 characters on Twitter and a Facebook status just isn't enough! Passionate about mental health awareness.

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