MY (ANNOYINGLY) CONTROVERSIAL DECISION TO ONLY HAVE ONE CHILD

This week the New York Times published an opinion piece titled “Life is Better with Siblings.” In the article, economist Dr. Catherine Pakaluk argues that navigating sibling dynamics not only teaches children important lessons, it can give them a sense of purpose. One mother she interviewed, “believed one of her sons would probably have been diagnosed with depression or anxiety if he hadn’t had a new baby sister to hold and care for.” The case is compelling until I remember my older sister’s disinterest in me growing up and the fact that for many years my existence as a mentally ill child made her life worse.

Still, it is difficult as a new mom to not feel conflicted about my decision to be one and done. During my pregnancy, the choice brought me comfort. Every time I threw up or my ribs ached I reminded myself, I only have to do this once. It became a sort of mantra that made all the hard parts of pregnancy, labor, and postpartum feel more bearable. But now that I am through the haze of breastfeeding and have escaped the sundown scaries, there is room to question this choice and what it will mean for my baby.

I find myself wondering, is it selfish to deprive my son of a younger sibling? Will his life be less full because I don’t want to make the sacrifices necessary to raise two children?

My gut answer to these uncomfortable questions is yes. But I think that’s okay. I never wanted to be the kind of mother who gave up her own wellbeing for her children, even if that is harder to put into practice than I thought it would be. And while his life might be less rich in terms of his immediate family, I can make a conscious choice to enrich it in other ways by prioritizing his friendships and his cousins (who absolutely adore him).

Still, it is unrealistic to expect myself to be totally at peace with this kind of seismic decision. There is always going to be a flicker of doubt that I am making the “right” choice. Thankfully, this kind of doubt doesn’t feel dangerous to me anymore. I know how to live alongside it. I’d be more concerned if I felt completely certain about the decision because that would imply I was too afraid to touch the hard parts and be honest with myself. Certainty is often a sign of insecurity. It can be a signal that our ego is too fragile to be challenged in any way so we double down and cover our eyes from incompatible information. I don’t want to fall into that trap so I allow the doubt in. I read the articles arguing for siblings. I ask only children about their experience even though I am afraid to hear their answer. I sit with the heavy feeling of knowing I am choosing what is best for me over what might be optimal for my child.

There is a chance I will grow to regret my decision, or, even worse, that my son will resent me for it. But there is also a chance I will die tomorrow or my son will be the first human to live forever. I can’t be driven by countless what ifs rather than the reality in front of me. And in this reality, having only one kid is the choice I want to make. It is the future I choose, which is different from feeling confident that it is the “right” choice according to a universe cheat code that we don’t get access to until we arrive in the afterlife and see what could have been.

Part of what helps assuage my doubt is knowing things are never as simple as more children equal good, less children equal bad. For all the wonder a younger sibling might bring, there is also a laundry list of things that could go wrong. These possibilities range in severity, but it is foolish for me to think any choice I make is guaranteed to be a net positive for my child. The world is too chaotic for that kind of direct cause and effect. Some things have much better odds than others but that is different than a sure thing. And few things are less predictable than an entire human being.

It’s funny that the part that bothers me most about all this isn’t people trying to convince me to change my mind. It’s people who assume that I will. The never say never crowd and the why don’t you wait to see how you feel winks. It is one thing to make a compelling case for giving my child a sibling based on someone’s lived experience and bias. It’s another to imply I am completely out of touch with my own desires and living in an anxiety induced one-and-done delusion that will disappear once my kid hits a certain age. I am open to hearing other people’s arguments and having a good faith discussion about the numerous factors that have led to my decision. I am less interested in being infantilized with knowing looks by parents who can’t fathom someone making a different decision than they did.

As much as it might still feel taboo, only-child families are on the rise in the US, which makes my decision far less revolutionary than it would have been two decades ago. This is helpful because I’m not trying to make a grand political statement with my family planning. Although the personal is always political, this part of my life feels mostly personal. I’m glad there will likely be other only children in my kid’s school and social circle. I’m hopeful that the stigma of only children will continue to fade as more families make the choice that is better for them (and their finances). But I know better than to expect my own doubt to completely disappear with changing societal tides. It will always live in me, tucked somewhere between my undying maternal love and relief that I never have to be pregnant again.

xoxo,

Allison

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