One and Done?

And the right to change my mind someday.

If you know me even a little bit, you know that I had always been wracked with indecision on whether or not I wanted to have a baby. Over the course of my life this has manifested in different ways. I used to be fiercely against the idea of giving birth, declaring as young as elementary school that I would only be interested in adoption. During the pandemic I very nearly insisted my husband divorce me so he could go off and become a father to someone else’s children (the idea of homeschooling on zoom really didn’t sit well with me.) But I also always loved the idea of having adult children, so when I got pregnant I took it as a sign that I was on the correct track.

To the surprise of everyone around me, I have fallen quite naturally into the role of motherhood. I have been surprised and delighted not only by the experience, but by my own intuition and the depths of my love. Being Sebastian’s mom has truly been the greatest joy of my life. So, it probably doesn’t come as a shock that I have been completely paralyzed by the second-child decision for the last year.

It is my belief that losing yourself in motherhood is optional, though that “option” frequently comes down to the partner you choose, the place you reside, and your financial situation. The number of children you choose to have can also have a major impact on this (though I really think two is doable for most people.)

Through luck and strategy, I have found myself able to perfectly balance my career, social life and parenthood. Tragically, a tip of the scale impacts my mental and physical health immensely. If I spend too many nights at press dinners or get too few hours of sleep due to illness or commit to one too many birthday parties I am simply paralyzed with exhaust.

The reality with motherhood (and life) is you can have anything you want, but not everything you want. I can have the career and the kid, but I cannot have nights off. There are only so many hours in a day, and I spend mine hyper-productive. To me it feels like there is no choice at all when I am committed to my ambition and my child.

A few months ago I saw a TikTok that said “mothers of only children choose themselves and motherhood”— this mantra has not only captured my experience, but has served as my north-star when I’m wracked with internal debate.

I know what I’d be giving up by having another baby. I wouldn’t be able to travel for work for about a year, an unimaginable fate right now. My domestic responsibilities would double. I have absolutely no idea if we’d even be able to afford living in New York with two kids. Do you know how much childcare costs? If I were to set everything up *perfectly* with work, the next time it would “make sense” for me to get pregnant would be in about two years. This would mean a five year age gap between my children. I don’t think I will want to start from scratch. Kindergartners can travel, they can go to Broadway, and they make pretty decent conversationalists.

I also know what i’m giving up by not having another child. As one of three, I know that siblings can be a huge value add in life. My sisters are some of my best friends in the world. We had an idyllic childhood. When our parents reach old age, we will be able to tackle that as a team. But that doesn’t mean my husband’s world is lacking because he doesn’t have siblings. Not to mention shared blood does not always result in a close relationship.

This past weekend we visited my best friend from high school in North Carolina with a few other friends. It was a magical few days straight out of my dreams. My closest friends in the world’s babies running around the beach with my son— it took my breath away and I spent the majority of the weekend with tears in my eyes. It was everything I hoped it would be.

What I was not expecting, however, was the clarity that would come from the trip. There were four children total and while Sebastian was eager to play with them at times, he was also content doing his own thing and playing independently. This was something I really needed to see. My baby is the perfect only child— delighted to have friends, and completely capable of entertaining himself.

Being a mom has taught me so much about myself. I am softer and more empathetic than I ever imagined (tough time to be soft, though.) My problem solving skills are truly top notch. Two nights ago I convinced my sick son to eat a veggie pack in the bathtub after protesting dinner. My husband once told me that my job was to “bring the sparkle” and that is something I try to do every day for Sebastian. I know he is going to have a magical childhood because I am capable of doing that for him.

I also know that I get extremely overstimulated during long fits of crying, that stay-at-home parenthood doesn’t suit me, and that my life’s work cannot be confined within the walls of our home. I also believe that my son’s life will be enriched by this, and that motherhood doesn’t have to be one-size-fits-all.

Over the last few weeks I’ve had the realization that my indecision wasn’t based on whether or not I wanted to have another child, but whether or not I’d want to re-live the last couple of years. The answer to that is a resounding yes, but I was asking myself the wrong question. A second child would be a completely new experience, and it is an experience I am okay with living without. Occasionally I wish I could shrink Sebastian to newborn size and let him sleep on my chest, but I know we have even bigger snuggles in our future.

As the mom to an only child, I can continue to stuff my Louis Vuitton bag with just an emergency diaper, the tail end of the wipes and an Elmo sippy cup. I can split duties 50/50 and not 100/100 with my husband. I can accept now that I can love being a mom to Sebastian without wanting to be Mom to anyone else. It is a relief to know this for certain and has also made me feel so nostalgic for the present moment.

Most importantly, despite a notes app of names, I feel our family is complete.