Dear Society, what if we truly and actually only want (gasp) one baby?
I see your knowing smiles now that my sweet baby has become a toddling terror. When I don’t feel like a wine with dinner, and those looks are exchanged across the table. He’s 18 months. It’s time.
They must be trying.
When I’m at the grocery store and my little guy is tossing cereal boxes into the cart with an energy that only comes from being a toddler, and I get the well-meaning yet inevitable “You think he’s a handful now – wait until you have two!” comments.
And it’s not just directed at mums. My husband has started hearing it at work too. “Oh, your son is 18 months? Must be time to get busy again,” haha, wink wink.
I get it. I do. It actually feels like everyone I know is pregnant with their second right now. And each time my social media feed shows yet another baby announcement or gender reveal, I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia.
I hope you won’t stop reading if I tell you I’m one of the freaks who adored pregnancy. Every niggle and sensation. Even being sick made me excited because I knew it meant my levels were high. And it’s also important to say I love babies and children, and I love that my friends are having more babies for my baby (and me) to play with. I’m the first one to throw the baby shower or drop by with a lasagna.
But I don’t love having to combat familial expectations from strangers in the cereal aisle. Or the sad, sympathetic looks when they hear my affirmative response to “Just the one?” like something must be wrong.