One Child

Chances are that the husband and I are only going to have one child. We still talk about the idea of having another one, but realistically? It’s an 85% probability that there’s just going to be one baby in the house.

This writer, Alyson Halberstadt, sums up my sentiments perfectly (even down the dog being a playmate!), and because I may not be able to find her blog in the future, I am re-posting her words here.

I “only” have one child. I can hold my son’s hand in the parking lot and still carry my Starbucks coffee in the other. He gets my undivided attention at all times and I never miss a somersault. I “only” have one child.

I “only” have one child. I never thought it would be this way. Everyone asks when another is coming and the truth is? I don’t think one will. His only playmate, besides his dad and I, is our dog. There’s no one his age to play hide and seek with and no one else in our house fits in his little hiding spots. I wish my family’s circumstances allowed us to have more. Part of my heart breaks when I think he will grow up alone. I “only” have one child.

I “only” have one child. It sometimes makes me feel like I don’t really count as a mother or that my struggles aren’t real because it seems everyone else has double, triple, or quadruple the diapers and chaos. I feel bad discussing the difficulties of bedtime because I “only” have one bedtime routine to complete. Everyone says having “only” one was so easy as if having one wasn’t still a life altering experience. I’m still tired at the end of the day and I still feel like no matter what I do, I’m not giving enough of myself. I “only” have one child.

I “only” have one child. There will only be one 1st birthday celebration in my house. There will only be one 1st tooth lost, one 1st day of school, and one 1st heart break. There will only be one baby, one toddler, and one teenager. There’s only one time I will feel the joy of childbirth, the refreshing feeling of a first full night’s sleep during the newborn phase, and the utter amazement at the first time my baby calls for “Mommy.” I “only” have one child.

I “only” have one child. I still get tired of the constant touching. I still struggle to get the laundry done or the dishes unloaded. I still am woken up in the middle of the night and get up before dawn. I am still in a state of constant worry about his well being. It is still my responsibility to help him grow into a kind, peace-seeking, and loving man. I still matter because he needs me. I may “only” have one child, but every child “only” has one mommy, and he chose me.

I “only” have one child. I never miss a smile, giggle, or cry. There is no fighting over toys, no sharing of clothes, and no jealous tantrums. Our house can still be quiet. We can still easily and inexpensively go out for dinner, take a quick trip to Target with minimal struggle, and comfortably fit our whole family into a sedan. There’s only one college tuition to worry about, one extra mouth to feed, and one booty to potty train. I “only” have one child.

I “only” have one child. My heart is still bursting at the seams. My child is my life. He is my joy, my creation, my pain, my inspiration.

I “only” have one child.


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