Linda (33): "I don't want a second child, I'm hesitant, because I want to give Alex a brother or sister"

One child feels right

My child, Alex, is ten years old. Ten. That feels like a milestone. We have left the busiest years of parenthood behind us. We have survived the sleepless nights, the tantrums, the vomiting parties, and the diapers. The house is a bit ours again. Alex is independent, funny, and he can entertain himself quite well. We are happy about that. Imagine being busy with your child every day... Sometimes I look at him and think: this is just right. Life is wonderfully calm. But then come the standard questions. From everyone. “When is the second one coming?”. “You're still young! (hint, hint)”. Apparently, everyone thinks one child is not enough. I usually laugh it off. While it simmers inside me. I take it to heart.
I try to convince myself that I don't want a second one. But is that really so?

The doubt is growing more and more

I catch myself looking at Alex and thinking: he is alone. He often plays with friends, but at home, he's the only child. Of course, with his parents, but no brother to argue with, no sister to tease. And then I wonder: am I missing something, or is he missing something? Whose feeling is that? Am I depriving him of something? I had a brother, and we fought over everything. But it was through that we learned to share, to explore boundaries, to be together. I want that for Alex too. Of course, it's no guarantee of happiness. Not every sibling gets along, not every family is harmonious.
Maybe it's romantic to think that a second child automatically adds something.

The pressure from others

What surprises me the most is how much others interfere. So rude! Colleagues, family, even acquaintances at birthdays. "You have it easy with just one child," they say, with a judgment in it. And often the sentence follows: "Soon it will be too late." Too late for what, actually? Sometimes I get irritated by the image of "the perfect family": Two kids, a car full of chaos, one playing soccer, the other in dance class. Yuck. I never really saw that picture for myself. Yes, I enjoy the silence on Saturday morning, the peace at the dining table. And yes, sometimes I think I do things differently than others. Does that make it wrong?! I wish there were fewer expectations about how many children you "should" have.

Yet a sentence lingers

"What if I regret it?" I didn't use to feel this way. I know I like this life, but I don't know how I'll feel in ten years. What if Alex moves out, and only then I think: should I have had another one? What if I miss the moment of holding a baby again? Sometimes I feel certain, sometimes unsure. My husband, Tibbe, also says: "We're good as we are." And that's true. But the human mind is strange: you can be content and still doubt. Sometimes I think it's not about having a second child, but about the fear of missing out. Fomo. Not having fully experienced something.

Satisfaction certainly does not come automatically

I have sometimes found peace in motherhood. I often see women around me who completely overlook themselves. They have a second or third child 'for completeness,' but lose themselves. I definitely don't want that. And yes, sometimes that feels selfish. But maybe that's just being honest?

Are there more mothers who think this way?

Online I keep reading more stories from women who are also in doubt. They love their children, but not the idea of starting over again. They want balance, peace, time, and that's not lazy, that's conscious. Yet, we rarely talk about it. As if it's taboo to say: "One child is enough." Motherhood is not a competition. I am grateful for Alex, for our family of three. Maybe there will be another chapter, maybe not. But for now, this book just feels complete. A second would completely disrupt that balance, and I'm not sure if I can handle that again.

The conversations I never expected to have

Recently I was sitting at the table with my mother, and she cautiously asked: "Are you still thinking about it, about a second one?". Here we go again. I hadn't expected her to bring up the subject. Yet I honestly said: “I'm doubtful, mom. But deep down I don't want it". She smiled. “That's also a choice. And it's okay to doubt.”
That was such a good answer. No one ever says that doubt can also be an answer. My mother has three children, in a time when that was taken for granted.
But maybe that's exactly what makes our generation better: we make our choices more consciously.

If I'm honest with myself

Sometimes I think the real question isn't whether I want another child, but whether I dare to live with the choices I make. Can I bear it if Alex says later that he felt alone? Can I forgive myself if I never hold that baby in my arms again? Doubt means you are thinking. There is no right or wrong. Only what feels right for our family, for me. Alex must understand that my love is not less because I didn't give him a brother or sister.

LINDA