I was caught off guard the other day while sitting in a surprisingly pleasant optometrist’s office. It was the first time in over thirty years that I discovered I needed glasses, all while my well-behaved six-year-old, Emma, asked for help with her Lego creations in the kiddie corner.
Then came the dreaded question: “Is she your only child?”
(Pause for effect.)
“Yes, unless you count my husband, who sometimes acts like he’s six.”
And the inevitable response: “Wow! What are you waiting for? She needs a sibling!”
Alright, listen up, friend. You really want to know why I won’t have another child—or why I can’t?
Because I nearly lost my life giving birth to her. If I were to put the strain of pregnancy on my already damaged heart again, the outcome could be dire for both me and the baby. I could face serious complications, and my daughter would be left without a mother, in addition to being an only child. So, um, that’s my reason.
Yes, I’ve rehearsed that little speech since 2008. Not for auditions, but usually for those who just don’t get it.
Fast forward to my visit to a nail salon. I should’ve known better than to indulge in some self-care while my kid was at school.
“You have children?” you asked.
“I have a six-year-old.”
“No more? Come on, why not?”
Because, honestly, leave me alone.
What if I did decide to have another child and something tragic happened? (I know a family who faced this heartbreak, and I can’t fathom their pain when people ask such questions.)
Here we go again.
At a birthday party for Emma’s friends, surrounded by 26 sugar-crazed six-year-olds, someone asks, “Is she your only one? No siblings?”
Did you ever stop to think about how many women struggle with conceiving or maintaining a healthy pregnancy? Or the emotional and financial toll that can come with raising a child? What if we faced unexpected financial hardships while raising our little one, realizing that it might be wiser to avoid adding to our burdens?
But, of course, she needs a playmate, right?
So, if you’re still with me, want to know how close I came to tragedy? I was a mere 105 pounds at seven months pregnant, in pre-term labor, and I was given way too much terbutaline. I crashed in the hospital—code blue, the works. They had to bring me back to life while I was pregnant. Oh, and I was left with permanent heart valve damage and recurring heart issues. So, no, it wouldn’t be wise to risk my health for the sake of giving my daughter a sibling.
That’s my reason, plain and simple.
If you want to explore the topic of home insemination, check out CryoBaby’s at-home insemination kit. For those interested in additional resources, BabyMaker offers excellent at-home options. And for anyone facing fertility challenges, Johns Hopkins provides valuable information about pregnancy and infertility services.
In conclusion, please think before you ask someone why they don’t have more children. It’s a deeply personal journey that isn’t always straightforward.
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