Why One Child is Absolutely Enough for Me

People often look at Archie, his beaming smile and cheeky laugh, and say, “Aww, look at him! He’s so happy! Would you have another one?” My answer? Absolutely not. Not in a million years.

Don’t get me wrong—Archie is my world. I love him more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being. I wouldn’t change him for anything. But when I think about life before Archie, let me tell you... it was a breeze. A literal walk in the park compared to the marathon-with-obstacles that is parenting. Before Archie, my biggest daily worry was whether I’d remembered to defrost something for dinner or if I could justify another lazy night with a takeaway. My house stayed clean for longer than five minutes, and if I wanted to pop out for coffee, I just… went. No planning, no packing a bag the size of a small suitcase with snacks, nappies, and a full toddler entertainment kit.

Now? Oh boy. Life is harder. Everything requires more thought, more effort, and more energy. Because now, I have to keep another human being alive—and not just alive, but ideally happy and thriving too. And that’s no small task when you’re raising a tiny tornado who sees bathwater as his personal playground (for hours!) and has an ever-changing list of food preferences. Don’t get me started on the early years. Archie’s journey with laryngomalacia meant sleepless nights, feeding struggles, and a lot of worry. We got through it, and he’s thriving now, but it was a lot. Could I do that all again? Nope. Nope. Nope.

Having one child feels enough for me—physically, emotionally, and mentally. I want to pour everything I have into Archie, to give him the attention and love he deserves. Adding another little person into the mix? I just don’t think I’d have the bandwidth to do it all over again without losing myself in the process. Some parents thrive in chaos, managing multiple kids like superheroes. Hats off to them! But for me, one is perfect. Archie is perfect. He fills my life in a way I never thought possible, but also in a way that makes me sure our family is complete.

So, to anyone who wonders if I’d have another one, just know that this is my version of happiness—one child, lots of love, and slightly less chaos than if there were two!

Part Two—The Journey to Motherhood

Let’s get real: even the journey to having Archie was hard. Getting pregnant wasn’t simple. In fact, it was a nightmare. I have so much sympathy for anyone going through fertility issues because it’s such a cruel, emotional rollercoaster. For me, the heartbreak came from miscarriages. My little babies just didn’t like to stay for too long.

The physical side of miscarriages is awful, but honestly, it was the mental toll that hit me the hardest. It’s impossible to grieve properly when your body is still dealing with the aftermath. And then Covid happened, making everything worse. Jay couldn’t come to appointments with me or be there for procedures. I had to do so much of it alone, and it was devastating.

Eventually, after a lot of tears and some much-needed counseling, I started to understand just how common miscarriages are. That realization helped me feel less isolated, but it also made me angry that no one talks about it more. It’s such a silent struggle, and it really shouldn’t be.

After multiple losses, Jay and I had to make a decision. I couldn’t keep putting myself through it. The physical pain, the emotional weight—it was too much. So, we gave up. We asked our workplaces for sabbaticals, planning to travel the world together. Travel has always been our passion, and we were ready for a new chapter. But life, as it so often does, had other plans. One very drunk night later—BAM. I was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it. After all the struggles to conceive before, I hadn’t even considered it as a possibility. And let me tell you, the pregnancy was no picnic.

I was on edge the whole time, convinced something would go wrong. Every little twinge sent me into panic mode. The nerves, the anxiety—it was overwhelming. Covid made everything worse. I had to self-isolate, and my teaching job became a lonely stint on Teams, staring at a screen instead of a room full of faces. It was a hard nine months, and I didn’t enjoy a single moment of it. But then Archie arrived, and somehow, everything felt worth it. Still, when I look back at the journey to get here, I know in my heart: I can’t do it again. I won’t.

That’s why I’m so content with one child. Archie is my miracle, my little ray of sunshine after so much darkness. Our family feels complete with him, and I’m happy to leave it at that. Some stories don’t need a sequel—they’re perfect just the way they are.

Part Three—The Birth That Nearly Broke Me

If the journey to get pregnant wasn’t hard enough, the birth of Archie cemented my decision that one child is absolutely enough for me. People talk about the miracle of childbirth with all its beauty and joy, but let me tell you, my experience was more comedy-horror than anything else.

First, let’s rewind. I had always been terrified of giving birth. It’s the reason it took me so long to finally say “yes” to Jay about having a baby. The thought of it filled me with so much anxiety that I couldn’t even imagine going through it. Thankfully, my consultant understood and scheduled me for a c-section five days before my due date. Perfect plan, right? Of course, life doesn’t work that way. The night before my c-section, I went into full nesting mode. Suddenly, I was convinced the house wasn’t clean enough. (Spoiler: it was absolutely fine.) So, there I was, scrubbing and tidying like a woman possessed, when—bam! My water broke. I didn’t even panic at first; I found it hilarious. I must have been in shock because all I could do was laugh. Jay, on the other hand, went into full meltdown mode. First, he pulled dinner out of the oven without a glove—classic panic move—and burnt his hand. Then, when he tried to pack the car, he realized his golf stuff were still in the boot. As he pulled it out, about 50 golf balls escaped, rolling down the drive and into the road. It was chaos, and I was soaked through because, fun fact: when your waters break, they don’t stop.

Then came the hospital. Oh, the hospital. I wouldn’t describe it as the most supportive experience. My contractions started almost immediately, and the pain was... next-level. But because it was my first baby, everyone assumed I had hours to go and left me in a corridor to “wait” 11 hours for my scheduled c-section. Let me tell you, I was not fine. I screamed. I begged. I did everything but throw myself on the floor, and no one believed me. “It’s your first; you’ve got loads of time,” they kept saying. Meanwhile, I was in absolute agony, surviving on a cocktail of every drug they would give me. Finally—FINALLY—they decided to check me and realized Archie wasn’t waiting for anyone. Cue an emergency c-section. Except, it wasn’t smooth sailing.

I remember being naked in a room full of nurses, contractions hitting every 30 seconds, and someone telling me, “Don’t move while we put the epidural in!” How do you stay still when your body feels like it’s being ripped apart? The first attempt failed. The second one barely worked. By the time they got me onto the bed, it was too late.

“You’re going to have to give birth naturally,” they told me. At that point, I was so out of it that I just said, “Yeah, fine, no worries.” I couldn’t feel anything, so how bad could it be? “Push!” they kept shouting. But how do you push when you can’t even feel your legs? I remember asking a nurse, “Am I actually pushing?” Her helpful response: “You can’t talk and push at the same time.” Thanks for the pep talk, love.

Eventually, Archie arrived, and of course, he was worth every moment of chaos and pain. But that experience? It broke me. The fear, the pain, the sheer exhaustion—it’s not something I’d ever willingly put myself through again.

Part Five—Illnesses and a Whole Lot of Love

I’ve touched on this before, but Archie’s early days weren’t what you’d call smooth sailing. Don’t get me wrong—he’s one in a million and an absolute superstar. But those first couple of years? They were tough.

Archie’s laryngomalacia was just the beginning. Throw in silent reflux, a milk protein allergy, colic, feeding struggles, choking episodes, and probably a few other things I’ve blocked from memory, and you’ve got a pretty clear picture of why one child is enough for me. Every feed felt like a mission, and every day was filled with worry. Would he choke? Would the reflux flare up? Would he even keep his food down? It was a constant cycle of stress, tears, and exhaustion. And it wasn’t just Archie—I wasn’t exactly thriving, either. Post-birth infections hit me hard, and there were moments when I felt like I’d never feel “normal” again.

But thank goodness for my parents. Honestly, me and Jay wouldn’t have made it through without them. They were there every step of the way, helping with feeds, cuddles, and general life-saving support. I don’t even have words for how grateful I am for them. They were—and still are—absolutely awesome.

The Final Word

So, do I want another one?

No. Absolutely not.

I’m sorry, but I just can’t go through it all again. The trying to conceive, the pregnancy, the birth, the aftermath—it was all too much. It’s that I’ve already been through the trenches once, and I know I couldn’t do it again. One child is enough for me because those early days were a marathon, and I’m still catching my breath. Hats off to those of you who can do it. And to the mums who seem to breeze through it or even do it back-to-back with multiple babies, you’re actual superheroes!

I know my story isn’t “normal,” but I bet some of you can relate to parts of it—the struggles, the exhaustion, the moments when you’re just holding on for dear life. Having a baby is no small feat, and it’s okay to admit when it’s been hard.

For me, Archie is more than enough. He’s my miracle, my little superstar, my one and only. And after everything he’s been through, I don’t think it’s possible to spoil him too much. He deserves to be treated like the prince he is, and I’m more than happy to be his queen.

So, here’s to the one-child mums, the two-child mums, and the mums of a whole football team. You’re all incredible, no matter how many children you have. For me, though, one is just right. My heart is full, and my family feels complete. 💙