In my (limited) experience, there is something about your child’s first birthday which makes your womb yelp “Helloooooo!! I’m still here!! And I’m empty!!” We only ever wanted two children. We have two children. We are incredibly lucky to have two children. (I like to remind myself of this quite frequently).
Bar any potential mishaps of the contraception variety, we have finished having children. And to stop my womb from getting the better of me in any future moments of weakness, here are some reminders as to why we are ‘two and done’:
1. The girls are a bloody nightmare at the moment. Individually, they are challenging. Together, it’s like firefighting while being doused in petrol. I mean, seriously, it can be horrendous and we are still a decade away from their teenage years. (Although at that time I’m hoping we won’t have to worry about one falling off the sofa). They want what the other one has and they kick off at the drop of a hat. Oh, the Drama. My poor other half is currently a shadow of his former self and when people tell me I look tired I tend to explain this is just what my face looks like now. “Have two”, they say. “They’ll play together, it will be so lovely”. Yeah. Ok.
2. They have their own rooms. (Not that one of them sleeps in it). Sure, they may share at some point in the future but it’s nice that they’ll always have their own space to retreat to when they need it. Or when I send them to it. Separate corners of a boxing ring, if you will.
7. My last pregnancy was joyous but also scary and worrying in equal measures. It was hard enough holding it together with one toddler in-tow, I’m not sure my nerves would manage it another time, not to mention my pelvis. SPD is a bitch.
8. Our eldest daughter is a sensitive soul and at a time when she would most likely be getting to grips with primary school it would be nice to be ‘here’ for her. You know, to get stuck in with her homework, to join the PTA (if they’ll have me), to be present rather than stumbling around bleary-eyed and covered in baby faeces while struggling to remember my own name.
I take my hat off to you parents of three or more. And Christ, if you were blessed (cursed?!) with multiples I applaud you. Imagine two stroppy, volatile three year olds. Hell, imagine two one year olds!! I can picture it now: they clamber onto separate ends of a climbing frame and are both poised to leap. Which direction do you run in?!? Towards the pub, I reckon.