Growing up, I dreamed of one day having a big family, just like the one I came from.
My three siblings and I are all about two years apart in age. I always loved that when we went to places like Disneyland, we were evenly split and that each of us always paired off with one of our siblings for playtime. It gave me ease, the symmetry of it all meaning no one was ever left out.
As the eldest daughter in a Latino immigrant family, I was often given the responsibility of caring for siblings from a young age. It. It wasn’t easy, but it fostered a caretaker role that made becoming a mom to many kids one day feel like a natural next step for me.
I had the same vision for my future family until I entered my 30s, met my would-be husband, and started making progress in my career. Suddenly, that life goal became a dream that didn’t quite fit into the reality I was living in.
Reality set in
Once I was married, I started to realize that the family I had been envisioning for years was already stressing me out. Just thinking about the physical toll of carrying one kid (let alone four), plus adding to a mental load that already felt like a lot, was daunting. The finances we’d need to support a large family in Los Angeles also seemed overwhelming.
Our journey to becoming parents took almost two years of trying, and when it finally happened, my labor and delivery was so far from what I had hoped for. The truth was, I was so scarred from that experience that after our baby boy was born, I couldn’t see myself doing any of it again.
Parenting is a full-time job
A little over a year later, my husband and I have settled into the rhythm of life with a toddler. That rhythm includes the joys of seeing our little guy develop his personality, while also including little to no sleep for us. Parenting a young child is a 24/7 job with no real breaks unless we’re trading off.
Being a mother has also taken a toll on my body, which makes me feel both grateful for its strength and like I’m inhabiting a body that isn’t mine. Attempting to care for myself while caring for our son is tricky, and I often prioritize his well-being over mine.
Even two kids now feels like too much
Since my husband and I were in our late 30s when we started trying to expand our family, we knew we might face fertility struggles. Because of this, we adjusted our expectations and thought we might only try for two kids instead of four. Ideally, we wanted one of each, which felt like a good compromise to the vision I had, and for my husband, it was what he’d always had in mind.
But after the experience I had with my first labor and delivery, I wasn’t so sure I was ready to go for round two. Then I got laid off and became a stay-at-home mom, and adding another person to the mix seemed even more impossible.
The idea of breastfeeding a baby while a toddler climbs the walls in the same room feels untenable. How can I nurse a newborn and keep an eye on my growing boy if I’m home alone? Though I can rely on my family for some help, I am the sole caretaker when my husband is working, which can sometimes turn into 12-hour days of solo parenting. It’s a personal choice, and one we both agree on, but it’s still the hardest, most demanding thing I’ve ever done.
The chaotic fun I grew up with and thought I could replicate as a mom has become a vision filled with responsibilities I know would mostly fall on my shoulders. It doesn’t seem so fun or fulfilling looking at it as a new mom versus an aspiring one.
I’m letting go of what I thought my life would be
Now that our son is 16 months old, we’ve firmly decided to be one-and-done. I’ve accepted this reality, but there is still a part of me that mourns what could have been.
I know my husband will never be a girl dad. I know my son will often have to play on his own. I worry about him growing up without a sibling that he would’ve hopefully always maintained a strong bond with. I also worry about him socially, thinking perhaps he might be awkward after not having the social skills that having siblings might help with. I wonder about what adulthood will look like for him, especially once we are gone, without a sibling to keep those family ties.
But then I get out of my head and realize that all he hypothetically won’t have doesn’t outweigh what we can provide him with. We’ve chosen a life that allows us to be the best versions of ourselves for him, and really, that’s the version of parents we want to be for him.
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