One and Done: How Life with One Child is Hello and Goodbye

I knew right around my daughter’s half birthday that I was done having children. I can’t place a finger on what exactly made me decide that, but I could just feel it. 

Once that decision had been made, however, it began to seep into every moment. 

Every first with her is the last ‘first.’ I went into every special moment realizing that I wouldn’t get a repeat; I won’t have another “First Christmas” or “First time on an Airplane” again. 

This has made me do a few things. The first is that I document and cherish all the firsts. Because I know in my heart that I won’t get to see first steps or a first giggle again, I make sure to make them a BIG DEAL. The second is that I began to really live in the moment. I saw this as an opportunity to get things right, as much as I can, the first time, because there won’t be a second. My daughter wants to go to the park? Done. Let’s go ride a swing together. She’s interested in movies? Let’s have her first movie in a theater.

There was a shift in my thinking that allowed me to realize that these firsts, these small moments, add up to something big: My daughter’s life. 

Since we aren’t having any more kids, the firsts and lasts go together. Her first time walking meant the last time I had a crawling baby. Her first time sleeping through the night meant that I wouldn’t nurse in the wee hours of the morning again. There is a symmetry to having one child; everything that happens has an inverse that occurs. I think it makes parenting sweeter, but also a little more difficult. Every time she does something for the first time, I rejoice and mourn simultaneously. I have to find room in my heart to feel joy for the new while saying goodbye to the old. 

As she gets older, people have begun to ask that dreaded question: “When are you having another?” I’ve started to see it as an opportunity to share my joy/sorrow moments with them, to show them that this decision doesn’t deprive me of anything, but rather gives me the opportunity to truly immerse myself in the everyday moments because I know they won’t happen again. 

So as I say hello to this new stage (#twoistough), I am saying goodbye to the last vestiges of babyhood. It’s bittersweet, and I am leaning into the joy/sorrow.