I’ve had a thought spinning in and out of my head for months now. With no rhyme or reason, this thought drops into my head: I have one child… and she will probably be my first and only.
I was never one of those people that dreamed of a big family, or any family, really. I never thought much about being a mom, until I became pregnant. But I did know, that IF I ever decided to have kids, I would want two, at least two. I see absolutely no problem with families that choose to raise an only child, I just knew I would prefer that to not be the case for my hypothetical, one day, maybe family. Well, here I am… I’m 27 years old, a single mother, not in any sort of serious relationship, and I have one child. And I’m okay with all of that, mostly. When I got pregnant again, I wasn’t scared really, because I had done it once before and because I was content knowing Marlowe would have another sibling (close in age, like I always wanted my maybe, one day, hypothetical kids to be) to move forward with. When I miscarried, I was relieved, because I knew life would be easier to be able to continue raising one child, and not two, by myself.
I half jokingly/half seriously told myself a long time ago that if I ever wanted another child, I would just ask Alex to get me pregnant again. Sounds a little crazy, but I figured if I wanted to bring a second child in this world, I would want to do it with the same man, whether I was with him, or not. (This of course being if I was single). But as time goes by, I know, I won’t be asking anyone to get me pregnant, because even with no resentment, I wouldn’t want to go through a pregnancy feeling that alone again. I don’t want to go to sleep every night wishing for the father of my newborn baby to be there, to help me and our little one through the night. I don’t want to be exhausted at the end of the day, waiting for the relief of a partner, that isn’t going to be there. Yeah, I mean, I’m doing it now, because no one comes home and helps me at the end of a hard day, but now? At least it’s easier. It’s the norm now. Those things and the harder times? I could push through them again, if I had to, but I definitely do not want to. No one should have to go through those things alone.
When I started looking into dating again, questions of children and babies always pop into my mind. How would whichever man feel about my child? About me being a mother? Do they have kids? Do they want kids? How would a whole blended family work? When asked if I want more kids, I say: probably not. While it works for many families, I don’t like the idea of bringing another child into the picture and having Marlowe in one back and forth situation, while her new sibling stays here, and always here. And then to think, she might have a completely other situation in another home? It’s even harder, slightly heartbreaking, and it’s definitely complicating and confusing. If she wasn’t alone, maybe… but she is alone and that’s not something I can change… even on the rare days that I want to.
Either way, I’m not in any position to even think about future kids, with anyone. I never wanted kids after 30. If I had kids, I wanted them young. Time goes by and I’m only getting older, and as each day passes, I’m not really getting any closer to any sort of point where I feel like I could talk kids with anyone… because I would only ever want more, if I was completely secure and certain with who I was with. And something like that… well, it takes time. While I have plenty of time for things to happen in life, I don’t see myself getting to that point with anyone, in the time window I’ve given myself to raise a newborn. Sure, I know to never say never, but meeting someone, falling in love, and choosing to bring a new life into this world, doesn’t seem like something I’m going to allow myself do.
It is what it is. It’s single mom life. It’s uncertainty and insecurity about a family situation for my daughter and I. There are still times where I’m still a bit saddened by not having a proper family for Marlowe and disheartened by my miscarriage. Feelings of inadequacy when I’m exhausted and Marlowe is begging me to play, and then turns to jerry to tug at his collar “come play jerry, come play” but of course he can’t. I want more for her. I want everything for her. I am aware, that what we have is good, and we will both grow and adapt organically, to whatever happens. But I do know, that she will most likely never have a sibling and I will never have another child… and that has to be okay too. And it is. And maybe even, sometimes: it’s a good thing too. I don’t have to split the little time I have. We can travel, with much more ease, with just her being the one little one in tote. Not to mention, I’m only one person, with two arms. And two arms is just right to hold one little girl.
She’ll always be all I need and just (perfect) enough.