“Just one? That’s selfish.”
“You’re not thinking of your child.”
“What if something happens to her?”
Ah, yes. Nothing screams warm-hearted concern like insinuating my parenting choices are one minor tragedy away from becoming a Lifetime Original Movie. Thank you for reminding me that my daughter is apparently one scraped knee from orphan status.
Let’s get one thing straight: we are a one and done household. Uno. Singular. A lone warrior child. And no, we’re not shopping for a two-for-one special on offspring.
We Didn’t Even Think We’d Get This Far
My husband and I were that couple. You know, the kind people assumed were too into their cats or too emotionally stable from years of drinking beer over board games to ever reproduce. And honestly? They weren’t entirely wrong. We liked our quiet nights, our full nights of sleep, and the freedom to leave scissors on the table without fear of a toddler-led crime scene.
Then, one day, we had “the talk.” You know the one: Maybe we should have a baby, just to see what happens. Spoiler: a lot happened. None of it quiet.
After a painful loss and a high-anxiety pregnancy, we welcomed our daughter—a 3.5 kilos miracle wrapped in existential dread and muslin blankets. And she is everything. She is a joy. She is chaotic. She is mine. She is the reason I haven’t stopped thinking and planning things since 2022.
But let me say it louder for the people in the back: I do not want another one.
The Gall of Modern Modesty
Now, had I announced I was trying for baby number four while simultaneously launching a startup and homeschooling the other three using artisanal felt boards—everyone would have thrown me a parade. Balloons. Gluten-free cake. A branded hashtag.
But only one? The audacity.
I’ve been told I’m depriving my child of a sibling, which, fun fact, apparently guarantees a lifetime of built-in best friends and conflict-free holiday dinners. Meanwhile, the rest of us with siblings know the truth: someone’s always stealing your stuff, tattling on you, or drawing moustaches on your face while sleeping. But sure—go off about the magical sibling bond.
Let’s look at some of the greatest hits I’ve received:
“You’re being selfish.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“What if something happens to her?” (Still not over this one, mom.)
“She’s going to be lonely.”
People have even asked my toddler if she wants a sibling. She also wants to eat lollipops for lunch, so maybe we don’t outsource reproductive strategy to the sugar addicted toddler.
The Real Crime: Peace and Sleep
Here’s the twist: I like having one child. I thrive having one child. I get to be a present parent and a person who knows what she really likes. Shocking, I know. I can give my daughter my full attention without dividing myself between kindergarten pick-ups and meltdown management.
She will be loved. She will be surrounded by people who adore her. And she will grow up knowing relationships are built, not just born.
Yes, I have siblings. Yes, I love them. Also yes, I occasionally fantasized about running away and changing my name to “Milica” to escape the shared bedroom situation. My daughter will be just fine.
What’s Actually Selfish?
What’s selfish is assuming someone else’s family should fit your idea of what’s “complete.” You don’t know what someone’s been through. Maybe they can’t have more kids. Maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they’ve done the math on expenses and would prefer not to sell a kidney.
Maybe—and hear me out—they’re happy.
In a world where we clap for people who eat silly things and make toddlers viral on Instagram, maybe—just maybe—we can reserve a little grace for people who choose peace, presence, and one perfectly chaotic child.
Let’s Wrap This Up
So, to the well-meaning strangers and passive-aggressive relatives: no, we are not trying for another. No, it’s not a “phase.” And no, our daughter won’t grow up in a lonely tower crafting sock puppets for company. She’ll be fine. Better than fine.
Because we’re raising her with love, intention, and yes—probably some generational trauma, but at least it won’t be shared with a sibling.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy an afternoon not scheduling another child-related appointment.
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