“When are you going to have another baby?”
I’m hearing this phrase more and more frequently these days.
And honestly, I am used to hearing it from friends, family, and even complete strangers — but not from the person I love most in this world. Hearing this phrase escape from my daughter’s cupid mouth has been a whole new challenge.
The first time she said this to me was shortly after a friend had a new baby. My daughter also happens to be close friends with their oldest daughter.
“It’s not fair!” she cried from the backseat one afternoon. “Everyone I know is a brother or sister. Everyone but me.”
I felt like I’d been punched straight in the gut. My heart was in my throat as I gripped my fingers around the steering wheel.
Up until this moment, my husband and I have had a few fleeting conversations about having another baby; but this time was different. I could tell my daughter was clearly upset and this made me feel like the worst parent in the world.
Before I had my daughter, I assumed I would be a stay-at-home parent. I imagined having at least two — maybe three — kids running circles around me. However, after I had my daughter, I started to feel like I needed more. I realized I had other dreams I wanted to pursue. Having my daughter made me realize that I had been afraid to step outside of my comfort zone. My daughter inspired me to overcome my fears.
Becoming a mother had changed me; but not in the ways I had thought it would.
The endless baby snuggles, the sloppy kisses, and the long list of “firsts” are memories I wouldn’t trade for anything in this world.
However, I also craved more. I loved being a mom, but I found myself needing an outlet. So, when our daughter was 2 years old, I decided to return to college. With the love and support of my family, I made the leap into unchartered waters. I was terrified; but I was excited.
With this choice, came many sacrifices. Our life is often chaotic and unpredictable. (But really, whose isn’t?) The one conversation that continues to bubble to the surface centers around whether or not we’ll have more children. As I begin the final year of earning my degree, the conversations are becoming more and more frequent.
I think about having another baby every time a friend announces her pregnancy. Every time I see a growing bump on a stranger at the grocery store. Every time I breathe in that intoxicating new baby scent. And now, every time my daughter says to me, “Mama! I want to be a big sister.”
Mom guilt is nothing new in motherhood, of course. I’ve experienced my fair share of rude and intrusive comments. I’m caught off guard every time I’m faced with another judgy comment. But I’ve also developed a thick skin over these last five years. I think it’s a necessity for motherhood. But, when the pressure to have another comes from your own daughter, the guilt often feels insurmountable. Her words are impossible for me to ignore.
I know how lucky I am that the possibility of having another child isn’t off the table. I know that there are so many people out there who want to have more children, but are not able to, for reasons beyond their control.
And yet, I worry. I worry that I may not ever want to have another child. I worry what that will mean for my daughter. Will she grow up to be lonely? Will she resent us for not having another? Will I regret not having another? Am I selfish? Am I the only one who feels this way?
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So, here I am. Feeling pressure from the inside. From my own daughter. I know she does not dictate our decision, but she does have a right to express her feelings, and I can’t help but feel the weight of her words.
I know in my heart that my husband and I are doing the best we can. We are paving our own path, and I have no idea where our little family will end up.
But one thing is for certain: I know that my daughter is loved. My goodness is she loved. And, for now, that will have to be enough.