Only

We're walking home from school.

"I was thinking," Henry says. "I was thinking it would be good to have a little brother."

I can't help but picture it. Henry holding a little boy's hand, guiding him as he toddles down the sidewalk next to us. He would have been such an excellent big brother.

"Or a sister," he says. "Yeah, actually? I think I want a sister. Because I like the girls I'm related to. So I think if I had a sister, I would like that."

I am murmuring noncommittally. "Huh!"I say. "Hmm!"

"So," he adds, looking at me, "can I get one?"

"I don't think it's in the cards for us, sweetie," I finally say.

"What does that mean, in the cards?"

"It means I don't think it's going to happen."

"That's okay," he says quickly. "That's fine. I was just thinking. "

I try to point out the advantages of being an only child. The quality time with us. He does not appear convinced.

"It could be fun, though," he says.

"Yes," I agree. "It could be."

*

When we made the move back to the city from the suburbs, part of it was because we realized we weren't going to try again. There are so many reasons, and if I give them, I'm afraid someone's going to pop up in the comments to argue that our reasons aren't good enough. "Oh, you can still have a second even if X!" this imaginary person might say. "My precious miracle came about even though we also thought Y and Z and you might be the same way so keep on trying!"

No. It's not going to happen.

And I am sorry. I am. It's so much more satisfying for everyone else, to have a successful pregnancy after a miscarriage. It's expected. You keep on trying, and then eventually you get pregnant and it all works out and the miscarriage becomes an unfortunate blip in your otherwise upbeat narrative. I realize that this is kind of a bummer.

*

Henry hasn't asked about a sibling for a long, long while--long before I had the miscarriage. It's interesting that it's come up for him now, just as my essay appeared in The Sun and I've been sort of overwhelmed by the feelings stirred up by the publication and its response.

I have to admit, I feel a little strange about all these Sun readers emailing me, responding as if I still feel the pain of the miscarriage as acutely as I did back when the essay was written. I wrote it well over a year ago, and when I finished, I felt like I had exorcised something. I exorcised it and saved it in a Word file and then I was free. And now all these people are expressing their sympathy, when that pain has dulled to an occasional ache, and I feel like I'm pretending to be something I'm not. Like I need to tell them they've made a mistake.

Then as I'm responding to them, something bursts open. All that pain I thought I had purged, that deep, awful well. It's right there, and I want to scream. Then I want to thank all these people who wrote to me, because part of me was afraid it was gone. Nope, still there. I still miss that baby I thought I was going to have. That baby who would have been one year old just a couple of weeks ago.

So many people writing to me want me to know about the children they had after their miscarriages. The happy endings they wish for me. I know they're hoping to make me feel better, I get that, but all I can think is, there won't be a second for me. And then I think: because I'm too selfish.

I am ashamed. Because I've made a decision, and at the heart of it, I made it for me. Scott and I made it for us. And for Henry, but who can really say what's best for him, at this point? I'm afraid we're doing Henry a disservice. That we're leaving him alone as we get older and more helpless, that we're depriving him of a soulmate and ally, someone to build forts with or whatever else I imagine he'd do with a sibling when I'm really beating myself up over my decision.

I wonder if he'll forgive us. I wonder if he'll hate us for it. I wonder if he'll be glad.

Of course I know, rationally, that only children can be happy and successful. I know that Henry's happy and well-adjusted and loved beyond measure. I do.

But it keeps coming up. They think I'm selfish, I think, when other parents ask me if Henry is an "only." Stingy. Not willing to spread myself just a little too thin. I want to give them my reasons. My very good, well-considered reasons. But I'm afraid they'd argue that those reasons aren't enough.

Henry is not an only, I want to say. Henry is enough. Can't that be the question? "So, was Henry enough for you?" I could confirm that without a trace of shame.

Just look at him, I could say.

Look at my boy. Look at all that I have.

Comments

[Susan]

You don't have to have an excuse for anything you do, Alice. It's your life, and the decisions you make are thought out and are the best things for your family. I frequently look at families after I've delivered their second child, walking down the hall with the first, and I wonder "what was wrong with that one? Why wasn't he/she enough?" And, as a person with younger siblings, I wonder the same thing, even now, about myself. "Why wasn't I enough?" I think when Henry's older, he'll look back and be glad that he was enough. I don't think there's anything wrong with only having one child. I don't think you should feel pressured to try again. People that tell you their "happy ending" stories are behaving as if your loss should be able to be pushed aside, when you're not ready for that. I think you're brave for the decisions you've made and for everything that you've gone through. Much love.

[Nony Mouse]

Meh, wish I could share the lovely sentiments of all your other commenters, but I am a deeply cynical reader of infertility blogs for close to a decade now. And there's one thing that reading those blogs has you believe, is that as soon as a mother posts "That is it! We are done! Our family is complete, we are perfect just as we are!" they penning a pregnancy announcement a few months later. Tertia, Karen Ovary, the list goes on and on.

You at least made sure to take a pregnancy test before you put up this post, right?

[Anna Marie]

Oh, Alice. It's such a personal decision. Henry is loved, and that is enough. That is more than enough.

[kaylen]

I have an only/enough child as well, and I'm hapy that he gets all my attention, and that we can live the life we do because we don't have to stretch our dollars a little thinner. He's my Only, but he's also Enough, and he's also my Everything. I think there are pros/cons to having more than one, but it's not as if we need to worry about populating the earth....there should never be pressure on anyone to have more than one. :)

I love love love that picture!

[Nat]

The Boy is an only. He'll be an only because I nearly died in childbirth. The Man couldn't go through that again. (I had a lot of drugs, I'm not sure I understood it all at the time... or even now.) I am... well, I'm not sure I could do it again either. For that I feel I am selfish too.

And I worry that he won't be ok, that he'd be better off with a sibling... but I know that deep down there are as many screwed up kids who have siblings as who don't. Try not to worry about them... and forgive you.

[mama without instructions]

It really does sound like you are very clear on what's right for your family. I have two and while I adore them both beyond my wildest dreams and all of that, it is so incredibly hard I can hardly stand it some days. For me this is the way it was meant to be but I look at several friends with only children and I feel a bit envious. And, of course, that makes me feel guilty. Peace to you as you work through all of the tough emotions again.

[Big Mama]

The only downside I've found to having an only child is the automatic assumption that you'll be the homeroom mom because it's not like you have anything else to do. It really cuts into my days of lying on the couch and eating ice cream after I drop my daughter off at school.

On a serious note, this was so beautifully written. You expressed being a mother of an only child perfectly.

[Twice Five Miles]

This is beautiful. Thank you.

We are trying to decide whether to have another - after just having gone through cancer and not sure how much more to put my body through. But my son is enough, more than enough, and I will make sure until my dying day that he knows that.

[Megsie]

And, Henry, he IS enough. I am glad that you came to a decision that was right for you, your husband and your child. That is all that really matters. And, yes, the grief is always there, under the surface. xoxo.

[vbd93]

We have made the same decision. One perfect baby, then 4 losses, and people still argue my reasons for saying "enough." I think maybe they don't know what else to say?

It is amazing how the hurt seems distant for a while and then bubbles right up to the top, without warning. We'll never stop missing our babies, but that doesn't mean we don't move forward and give our lives new hopes and dreams.

You and I have our beautiful, sweet boys - who would TOTALLY be the best big bros ever - and we give them love and life without regrets. They have to know that they truly are enough.

[Sparkle]

not to try to change your mind. i think you're decisions are you're decisions and i know PLENTY of happy "enough" children.

but i wanted to say that my grandmother was pregnant 11 times and only 6 of those pregnancies resulted in children. i never heard her speak of the miscarriages until my grandfather died -- when she told him those babies were waiting for him in heaven. i would say that anyone who thinks your miscarriage could become a blip is lying to themselves or really doesn't understand.

[Rose]

Thank you.

I have longed for a second child and can not explain why I am not happy with just my one. Tonight was a hard night for me, filled with disappointing thoughts of never getting a chance to provide my child with a sibling.

But after reading this wonderfully poetic piece, I am finally at peace. If you do not know that you make a difference know that you have tonight.

[Patricia]

I am an only. My son is an only. There are generations of onlies in my family.

But recently my aunt made a comment to me -- whenever you see a family with one child, there is always a story. There aren't always stories for the families with more than one -- but one, one is a story.

I liked being a story. I like my son's story. But you are most correct, the question is "Is he enough?"

Recently, my answer to "Is he an only child?" is "Yes, we figured out what caused it."

[beyond]

lovely piece. so well said.people criticise families for their choices all the time. i am very careful what i say to others -even it's a simple inquiry- because of what i have been through, but most people are not. (not that they mean to hurt you.) for some reason being an only is seen as strange, but i know a few adult onlys and they are great people. knowing the kind of mother you are, i'm sure that henry knows that he is both only and enough.

[Lisa V]

I had multiple miscarriages two decades ago. I can remember after my 3rd, when I was ready to move on and adopt, my OB told me that lots of women have multiple miscarriages. Why, he knew one woman who had 12 and had a baby. I was horrified. This was a very personal, private decision, and to have a doctor treat something minimized was really awful.

Every woman knows what she can or can't endure, what she is willing to risk emotionally and physically. No one should push her to do more than that.

[MemeGRL]

Oh, please let me tell you (again? I don't remember) how much I love, love, love, love, loved being an only. My home did not have as much stress as other people's houses. It was as great as every resentful sibling imagines it would be. My parents made it to every event. We took better vacations. We went out to dinner more often. When I grew up, it was a pretty seamless transition. And new people I meet always say, "Really? You're an only?" with the unspoken "So why aren't you selfish or maladjusted or any of the things my parents said I would be if we didn't have more kids?" (OK, that's probably not what they are really thinking. But there is that surprise.)Did I dream of having a sibling? Sure. I dream of having a million dollars and a house in Hawaii now. Just alternate realities, wondering what life would be like.You will have even more wonderful experiences, your tight family of three, and he will realize what he has when he grows up. Not only do I look at all you have, but I look at all he has too. And I rejoice for him.Please don't think this is a dismissal of your lost child. I still grieve for you and for that baby too. But don't worry about giving him a sibling as part of your grief. There's no telling how that would or would not have worked out. Enjoy each other and your perfect triangle. It really is a magic number. Honest.Hang in there. Thank you for your writing. It really does bring me joy.

[Elizabeth]

My son is an "only" but, like you, I prefer to think of him as "enough". He is plenty enough for me. Happy, well-adjusted and a good person. What more could you hope for?

[Rachael]

Before we moved and I had a "not trying, not preventing" pregnancy, we were considering letting our son stay an only child. Even though I saw advantages to giving him a sibling, there is also something pretty cool about giving all your love to one kid as far as I'm concerned. I don't understand why people judge others for having one child. I know people who don't have siblings, and they are perfectly fine and happy. They have their parents, and have made their friends their honorary family, and I love it because I get to be so close to them and their kids. I think that Henry will be fine, you obviously love him to pieces. Things happen. Life is what it is. And I think that Henry will have a great one.

[kate]

Love, love, love this.

[Susie]

Thank you for posting this....AND thank you to the people that responded that said they were either an only/enough, or have one. I only have one girl and feel kind of guilty that I am not giving her a gift of a sibling (not my words). It seems like everyone that I KNOW has more than one that I have been thinking I should create a club or play group for people with one child.

Anyway....I just wanted to say thanks for making me feel not so alone!

[janice]

Alice,Thanks, and yes, beautiful writing. I was the baby of 3 kids, I could have honestly done without the other 2. I know they felt the same. I envied the only children I knew. I have a son now, who feels like he is enough, if not too much sometimes. I can give him all that I have, which sometimes, is not enough. I can't imagine giving more. I decided to terminate a pregnancy this fall. And, I felt selfish and horrible, and I felt somehow responsible to all of the people with more to give than I who I could have adopted that baby. But, I had to do what I felt I should do. And, now I know, without a doubt. One. One is plenty, enough, and perfect for us. Recently, an older lady told me "One is a lot. Quit while you are ahead"

[Kelly]

I'm an only. My parents copped criticism for years - although it wasn't their choice, as dad was diagnosed with cancer when mum was 6 months pregnant with me. I was it, and they were grateful.Henry won't know any different, and that's okay. I don't wish I had siblings. Growing up I was a little adult, so I'm told, and that's just me. I always preferred spending time with adults over other kids.

The advantage? I'm incredibly close to my parents. Very, very close, and it's something that many people, including my fiance, are very jealous of. They don't understand it.

Your choice is just that, YOUR choice. And I applaud you for sticking by it, and saying it how it is. And you definitely don't need to justify that decision to anyone else.

Thank you for posting this, it's beautful.

[Amanda]

You're worrying about a hypothesis with no possible control group, which means there's no real theory to prove here in the first place.

Whatever works best for you is what works best for Henry. He'll know it was the right thing. He's obviously already an amazing kid - how he could not?

[Anne]

such a beautiful post.

i'm sure you and your husband have thought of this, but what about adoption?

[CS]

You said it. Thanks for both the essay in The Sun and this post. You write beautifully, your humanity and humor are practically *tangible*, and you seem to be a wonderful mother: so glad to read you!