Why does society judge single-child families like mine so harshly?
My husband and I agreed we'd have just one child years before I got pregnant. For me, it was about re-creating the childhood I had as an only child – the undivided attention, the quiet, the unit of three. For him, it was the financially sound option; he'd grown up as one of three, with money tight at times, and he didn't want us to feel stretched.
Back then it was just our plan, like all the decisions you make before your hypothetical child is born, a seemingly rational strategy we didn't debate.
Then she was born. She brought the kind of joy we hadn't thought possible. I wavered; how could we not relive this utter bliss? I mourned each milestone a little bit, knowing a part of her childhood was over, never to be revisited with another baby. My husband was steadfast in his decision, though, and ultimately I agreed.
The financial reasons for sticking with one still stand for both of us, and while I've seen the happiness of larger families as our friends have had second and third babies, there are new factors at play. My career is just getting back on track and, as much as it's a constant juggle, that juggle is evolving alongside my child.
My husband, meanwhile, is building up to a PhD. And as our daughter grows up, the possibilities for all of us seem to widen, from small things like having a lie-in, to a summer-long sabbatical together in Italy. I love the dynamic of the three of us, and she's never wanted a sibling. So far.
Still, as one of the very few one-child families we know, we often think of ourselves as an anomaly. And so, it seems, does everyone else. Although our families and friends rarely comment, strangers are full of opinions. An old woman in the post office queue told me I ought to get cracking on baby number two, as my toddler waggled her tongue at her from her buggy, "so she doesn't get too used to being an only child". And everyone, from the mortgage adviser to the train conductor, tilts their head to one side before asking, "Is it just her, then?"
With this kind of commentary, I assumed we were in the minority. But the number of one-child families is on the rise. According to new data from the UK, nearly one in five mothers born in 1972 has just one child, compared to one in seven for their mother's generation.
"Women today are eager to complete their educations and settle into careers before starting families," says Dr Susan Newman, social psychologist and author of The Case for the Only Child. "Late starts often lead to fertility issues. Costly medical intervention is prohibitive for many couples or single women hoping to have more children, and the economics and practicalities of raising children lead many to stop at one."
While we knew what we wanted from the outset, for others it's decided when that child becomes a reality. Bek, 36, realised when her son, Seth, was born that one was enough. "My husband and I always spoke about having two children. But when our boy was born, he completed us as a three."
A copywriter for four years before Seth was born, Bek decided to change career when her son started school and is now studying integrative counselling, which would have been far less manageable with a second child. "I realised I am being a better mum by making sure I am happy, and for me that meant going back to school."
But when we one-and-dones say we are not having any more babies – even though it's increasingly the norm in our society – other parents don't seem able to accept it. The responses range from curious ("But who will look after you when you're old?") and rude ("How can you be so selfish?") to reductive ("But she'll be so lonely!") and downright insulting ("Aren't you worried she'll be spoilt?"). The one that upsets me the most is when people ask, "Was it that bad the first time around?"
Your reasons are never good enough. ("Oh, you'll change your mind!") The conversation can also be loaded, because like most parenting decisions, people often think that you disapprove of their path if you take a different one – as if by having just one child, I'm automatically casting aspersions on those with more.
What baffles me is why such an intrusive question is bandied around so freely when the answers are so private. I say that as someone lucky enough to have had a choice. Katie, 34, suffers from narcolepsy and feels that while she could have another baby, it would jeopardise her mental and physical health: "I might seem high functioning, but actually I cannot imagine how I would manage with another child."
Katie insists that, despite her decision being caused by these circumstances, she is comfortable with it. "I am so close to my siblings that I do feel bad not giving my child one, but I know I'm the best parent I can be for her like this."
Still, strangers' comments do wedge themselves uncomfortably in my brain. Is there any truth in it all? Is my daughter more likely to be lonely?
According to Susan Newman, that isn't a given. "Overall, studies have shown that only children are no more lonely than children with siblings," she says. "In fact, they have as many friends."
So why do only children get such a bad rap? Newman traces that cliché back to 19th-century American psychologist G. Stanley Hall, who concluded that being an only child "is a disease in itself". Says Newman: "We live in a totally different world now, in which children are socialised early and not isolated. Nonetheless, assumptions about only children have become part of cultural thinking."
Take the idea they're spoilt and find it hard to share. Child psychiatrist Dr Sarah Vohra says, "Some studies suggest only children receive too much attention and praise and that this makes them 'less agreeable'. Others found that only children are less inclined to share because there has been no expectation to do so at home.
"The studies are fairly woolly, but there isn't much research to dispute these specific theories. There are, however, many studies that speak about the positives of only children: for example, finding them to be more creative, more motivated and to have higher self-esteem, which could be down to the level of parental attention.
"Frankly, we need to look beyond just the 'lack of siblings' as reasons why a child may be struggling. There are many factors in a child's environment that can determine their temperament." Our daughter will most likely remain an only child, but I'm hoping not alone.
She has so many cousins and second cousins, I've lost count. Not believing that family begins and ends with people you're biologically related to, we've also made our own family of friends. Our best friends have one son, so we've forced our kids to be pseudo-siblings – we've even spent Christmas together – along with my godson, his sister, and our best man's daughters.
My daughter knows they're all in it for the long term. Which assuages the residual guilt that we're making a selfish decision, as do the stories of families who bely the stereotypes.
"I did occasionally worry that my daughter hated being an only child," says Jane, 58, a local government officer. "But she didn't. She's an outgoing, adventurous soul and I love how confident and assured she is. She also has the most wonderful bunch of friends. I know if anything happens to me, she has a solid support network."
This article appears in Sunday Life magazine within the Sun-Herald and the Sunday Age on sale March 31.
Stella Magazine, The Sunday Telegraph (UK)
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