Only’s Not So Lonely

Sooo...it's been a busy summer. Which means that my 10 dedicated readers may have noticed that I've not posted a blog in three months. To kinda-sorta end the streak, I'm posting a piece, but it was written by my girlfriend and mommy blogger at large, Katie. She was kind enough to invite me to take up space on her blog recently, and I'm happy to return the favor. Especially since it gives me yet another pass on writing something new... Enjoy!

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Penny and I have known each other for years.  You’ll find my blog: www.bebediaries.com to be “all about the baby,” whereas Penny’s claim to fame is a blog NOT being about the baby.  (Even though, let’s give her credit, even when she’s on a feminist rant we know it’s because she wants her daughter to grow up in a better world). When it comes to families I’ve found that Penny’s appreciated her small clan for everything they’re worth.  I, on the other hand, keep finding myself talking about “the next baby.” Here’s where the guilt of over-sighting my one and only joy catches up to me.

Whenever I’ve thought about what I want my future family to look like I conjure up a diluted, nostalgic version of my own childhood.  Six people, siblings and their friends tearing through the house with little distinction between outdoor and indoor voices, always someone to explore with, and having younger siblings to force into ridiculous games created from my imagination.  As adults we have nieces and nephews to roll into an even larger collage.  You can always invite yourself along with whatever a sibling’s family has planned; it’s not considered imposing, it’s an unspoken open invitation.  There are more holiday traditions to create and always someone to give advice whether you want to hear it or not.  Yeah, yeah.  I know there is arguing, maybe a few violent attacks, competition, and that someone would have had to trade college for the whole family to afford a trip to Disney World; but I just remember a whirlwind (okay, Category 5 hurricane) of people and noise that weave together into this nest of love that I flew from.

Needless to say, I always imagined my own family would be much of the same.  One day, I didn’t understand why at the time, but my mother convinced me that having four kids would be insane.  (“Whhaaattt?? You want FOUR children?? Are you INSANE??  You grew up in a house with four children!!”—as if that were explanation enough.)  So, in the way that every young girl has a carefully drawn out schedule and plan for her future, I made the fateful scratching of 4 into a 3.

I’ve been a mother in the making since creation.  I was a babysitter, nanny, became an elementary school teacher, and married a man that revers family as much as I do.  All plans continued onward and upward.  Precisely one year after we got married I became pregnant with our now 15 month old boy.  Yes, that was in the timeline.  And now, the checklist says it’s time for Number Two.  But here’s the question that renders this post a coveted place on Penny’s blog, where originally it was the antithesis of It’s Not About the Baby:  Could my son be enough?

What if he was able to get snuggles from Mama anytime he wanted?  What if we were able to give him the world because we wouldn’t have to pay for three kids to have tennis lessons/guitar lessons/summer camp/airfare for travel/college?  What if I didn’t have to buy a minivan to fit all of those little rascals in?  And, what if while I’m pregnant I can’t run and play with him (I was gigantic while carrying him), or hold him because my belly is in the way.  What if I’m nauseous and tired and lose my patience with him?  What if Daddy has to take over all of those nurturing responsibilities and he resents me and only wants his Daddy for the rest of his life??  (Yes, welcome to the demented way my brain functions.) 

Society and historical psychology have left their identifying mark on “The Only Child.”  We’re told that Only Children don’t know how to socialize with others their age, that they don’t know how to entertain themselves, and that they’re spoiled.  If I think about personal memories of any classmates who were only children I remember that they had a lot of toys I wanted, and their bedrooms were spotless. I may have even identified them with the word spoiled.  

Now, it doesn’t take a proverbial brain surgeon to deduct that their parents could probably afford more toys having fewer groceries to buy.  I’m not entirely sure if the neatness is a fair correlation but I’m guessing it’s easier to keep on top of one child’s destruction than the mess of more.  When I was growing up our Rec Room (that would be the pseudonym for a carpeted basement) looked like a Misfit Toys Island Massacre. Somehow my mother did perform a daily miracle of keeping the house clean, we just covered all of the sparkling laminate and carpet with our junk.

Of course these Only Child stereotypes are unfair.  For me, it’s no longer a case of “I can’t have an only child because I will disservice him by his instinctive unwillingness to share, inability to entertain himself, or inevitably become socially inept,” it has become, “Will I have everything I’ve ever dreamed in this one child?”  I mean, in prior Only Child judgment I hadn’t taken into consideration the parents who were actually unable to conceive more than one child.  For all I knew when I was younger kids were to be had and the amount was a choice.  

Now I know families that have one child because that may be all that’s biologically possible.  They don’t wring their hands wondering if they should have just stayed childless as opposed to bringing an Only Child into the world.  They scoop that child into their arms and marvel at how amazing it is to love a creature with a strength that has an unknown beginning and infinite end.

So, will I have more children? Probably.  If I couldn’t have any more children would I be devastated?  Not at all.  I’ve learned that I can undoubtedly find everything I need in the family I have.

Do you feel the pressure of The Only Child syndrome? Has your viewpoint changed over time?