The Only Child Dilemma

At 40, a currently single and motherless woman thinks two things when it comes to the possibility of having children; how many do I really want at this late stage and how much time do I actually have in which to do it safely?

There's a fight to be had for having just one. The fact that even if I met the father of my child today, I'd still want us to take the time to really get to know each other first. You know, actually be a proper couple before kids enter the fray. Perhaps not as important but still a point for consideration is that I'm an only child myself. I know what that looks like, with all the inherent challenges and pluses it encompasses. In short, I know how to do that. Well... as much as anyone can know how to raise a child without having actually done it. However, being the sole product of my parental loins is also the reason I'm seriously pondering the idea of a second one, should I have bestowed upon me the luxury of time.

Being an only child is a burden and a blessing. I was indeed an equal product of that dichotomy. The blessings are exactly what one would expect – lots of attention, an independent streak caused by having to entertain and take care of oneself for hours on end, especially when both parents work full time. Not to mention studies show that only children mature emotionally at a much faster rate. This prepared me well for the unorthodox and rather grown up adventures I would later take at a young age, like moving to London on my own as a mere teenager.

However, the burdens run aplenty too. Being an only child often comes with the suspended belief that the kind of focused attention one received growing up, will have some sort of real world application later on. It doesn't. It's a shocking realization that the entire world does not indeed revolve around you, and as a result, major shifts, attitude adjustments and a surrendering of that particular brand of narcissism must follow if one is to forge quality friendships, working relationships and fulfilling romantic encounters. Easier said than done, I can tell you.

Perhaps the most daunting burden of all, at least in my case, is that you become your parents equal, their “friend”. Therapists call it “triangulation” which sounds pretty cool in theory; you’re not treated like a kid, they talk to you like a proper adult etc. Ask any child and they'll tell you the last thing they want is to be talked down to like they're a miniature moron. In essence you're one of them which, in it's finer moments, seems like the holy grail of child/parent dynamics. And in some ways it is.

The sinister underbelly of this dynamic leaves said child feeling like they have to manage situations well beyond their maturity level, leaving many aspects of childhood in the dust. You see, my parents shared with me their marital woes, thinking I could handle the truth of their precarious marriage. For the record, they broke up twice though I am proud to say ultimately worked it out. In fact, they felt like I would actually BENEFIT from knowing the truth, so tight knit was our family. However, the damage was done. Having the familial rug pulled out from under your feet is a big burden to bear when you're still too small to ride a roller coaster. I felt compelled to pick sides and tried to hold it all together when they weren't able to. I couldn’t of course, and that made it all the worse. I was the only witness to their chaos, the moral compass in a sea of turmoil but was equipped with none of the emotional intelligence or life experience to guide the three of us through the murky waters safely to the other side. As an only child, there were no siblings to share the burden with, no other little beings with which I could seek refuge or parcel out some of the pain. I took it on, did my best until eventually they evolved past their own "stuff" and created a safer space within which to raise me for my remaining years under their roof.

Despite the tumultuous times, there was an undeniable bond, a thread of goodness that balanced out the bad. They were there for everything I did. 10 years of playing competitive sports – which meant exhaustive practice and game schedules, tournaments on weekends and major holidays - choir performances, acting auditions, parent teacher meetings. They played endless hours of board games on the floor, and created the most magical holiday celebrations a kid could ask for. We always had dinner together, went to the drive-in movies, and engaged in real conversations about life, books, art, movies, life, sex, drugs, alcohol - anything that seemed important at the time. Mum would read books with me for hours. We’d take turns reading chapters from the likes of Judy Blume and Roald Dahl, until we'd literally fall asleep on my bed. Dad would painstakingly teach me how to hit a slap shot,or sit down with root beer and pretzels as we watched the hockey game Saturday night. He could have done that with his guy friends. But he did it with me.

My parents never questioned my curiosity about the unorthodox things I was intent on exploring. I was never a traditional girl, something that hasn't changed even today. For some reason, they made that ok. Though it is my belief they would have treated all their children in the same manner, the fact that I was their sole focus has certainly contributed to my success in life, as both a career woman and a well-developed human being. They didn't have to spread their attention, time, energy and resources on anyone other than me. And if I don't mention the fact that I was never allowed to be a spoiled brat, my mother will kill me. I tried once, around the age of 5, to throw a temper tantrum in a supermarket, an outburst that was swiftly thwarted and never attempted again.

We've talked about what our house would have been like had I had siblings. It used to be hard for me to imagine ever sharing my parents, "I would've eaten them alive." But now I wonder how I might have developed differently if I did have a brother or sister. Would it have mitigated some of the pain along the way? Might I have appreciated their company in times when none of my friends were available? How fascinating would it have been to see another extension of my parents living and breathing in my midst? And who would they have become, despite being from the same environment? I'll never know the value of having someone who knows the ins and outs of my family the way that I do. There's no one else to keep the memories alive.

It would be really nice to have that bond now, that impenetrable connection and link to another human being, especially once my parents eventually pass on. I think it might be nice to experience that through my own children. I'd like to give them that. If I have time. If I don't, well I certainly know how to raise just one. And that will be just fine too.