The Five Little Ducks Blog

How do you know when you are “done”?

When its time to donate all of your baby items and pack away your baby dreams; confident that your family is as large as its supposed to be?

Some families seem to “know”. Some families say “one kid is enough work for us!” Others have health issues that absolutely rule out any more procreating (or make conceiving again impossible). I know women who have suffered through such difficult pregnancies that the idea of carrying (or attempting to carry) another baby to term is unthinkable. Age might be a factor. Then there are those who don’t want to go backwards; to sleepless nights, endless nappy changes and feeding around the clock. The cost of having another child is too high. The toll on the marriage might be too great. The family might feel stretched already. Perhaps the finances are already so tight that both parents need to work and the budget wins the debate.

For some women, that desire to have more babies is simply gone. For others, an inkling of that desire never completely disappears, however, logic prevails.

Around August last year, as I could feel the year’s progression and Mr J’s approaching second birthday, I began to feel “clucky” again. When my first two children had had their second birthdays I was pregnant with the next child, so it felt strange to be breaking this pattern. One night, when I was up with a feverish Baby J who was screaming for the third consecutive night, I decided that the next time I felt clucky, we were going to get a puppy. By October, “Scout”, a Jack Russell x Foxy pup had joined our family.

Reasons why I should not have another baby:

-we already have five children. Five is more than enough. Life is crazy!

-two of our children still don’t sleep through the night and are regular visitors in our bed.

-we live in a rented three bedroom house. There is not a corner to spare as it is.

-I already struggle to keep our house clean.

-the washing is endless. If we added the clothes of another human being into the mix one of the children might fall into the washing basket and never be seen again.

-we only have one spare seat in our car. Adding another baby seat would be quite a squeeze and we might need to consider upgrading to a mini-bus.

-speaking of the car, it already takes long enough to get everyone in and out.

-our finances have been really tight lately and we live from fortnight to fortnight, slowly trying to build up our savings.

-another child would eventually need all of the things the other children require; swimming lessons, childcare, uniforms, shoes, haircuts, dental check ups, medicine…

-having another child would further delay my ability to contribute financially to our family or my return to study.

-I would need to slow down and cut back from my commitments for a time.

-a sixth child would mean my attention would be further divided, and there would be a little less of my time for each child. That wouldn’t feel fair to my other children. I need to learn to appreciate them more; to be content with each stage and not looking backwards.

-my husband and I are getting along so well. It might not be wise to place further strain on our relationship. In saying that, it’s not easy to find time to spend together.

-pregnancy is exhausting. I would need to take a nap everyday. I would feel tired all the time.

-I would need to go through every common early childhood illness again. The constant barrage of sickness is one of the worst things about having multiple young children.

-I need to drop children off at school by 9am and collect them at 3pm. It would be extremely awkward to fit a newborn’s feeds and sleeps around that schedule.

-right now, I have the freedom to go out in the evenings. I have hobbies. I’m enjoying life.

-for the first time in seven years, I am not pregnant or breastfeeding. I am not an infant survival machine. We could go away overnight if we really wanted to.

-I can’t imagine going back to juggling a baby on my hip while I cook dinner, pack lunches, supervise homework…

-pregnancy and childbirth can be dangerous. Numerous health conditions can arise. Labour hurts! I remember during Baby J’s labour thinking, “I never want to do this again!”

-it is challenging finding affordable holiday accommodation for a family of seven. A family of eight might be impossible to accommodate.

-another baby would not stay a baby. They would become a toddler, a preschooler, another school child in the house, a teenager… Eventually I will need to make peace with leaving the baby stage of parenting and grow up with my children.

-having another baby would force people to be supportive of me, and I don’t want to take advantage of people’s kindness.

-I don’t want to face the judgment of people who might be critical of my contribution to Earth’s overpopulation, or those people who make comments like “you know what causes that, don’t you?” or “don’t you own a TV?!” Ha…Ha…Ha.

-I have other dreams, like developing my writing further or recording music, or performing in a musical. Another baby would set those dreams back by years.

Twenty-five logical reasons for why we shouldn’t have another baby. We are definitely not planning to have any more children.

So why do I sometimes find myself hoping that we will accidentally fall pregnant again? Why do I stockpile baby names and imagine that I am feeling those first precious flutters? Why won’t I give my blessing to my husband to get a vasectomy? Why do I daydream about looking in the mirror to see a swollen belly, or imagine sitting on my lounge room floor with a sweet-breathed newborn in my lap gazing up at me as the children play around us? Why do I read that logical list and not care?

A few months ago, I convinced myself that I was expecting another baby (I have a strange, irregular cycle; sorry if that’s “too much information”). In that week where I thought I might be pregnant, I had already compiled a shortlist of names, knew which month the baby would be born in, imagined going about life with that sweet little secret growing in my womb, thought about how the children would react… Then, I knew that I was not pregnant. And I cried for a couple of hours. I was OK. But sometimes when I think of that day, my eyes mist over and my heart aches a little.

For couples who try for years to have a baby, or have multiple miscarriages, this pain must be multiplied by an enormous scale. If they were to read these words of mine, they might think of me as selfish and ungrateful for what I already have. They would be right. I am selfish and I am ungrateful. I have been blessed with three healthy pregnancies. I married young and was able to conceive without the aid of emotionally and physically painful, expensive fertility treatments. I have borderline poly cystic ovaries. If I had met my husband later in life, my journey to motherhood might have been very different. My pregnancies were relatively uncomplicated. I look back on them fondly; in my memories they are coloured by a mystical glow.

Newborn babies are very demanding of your time and body, but I adore them. Babies (and to an extent, toddlers) have much simpler needs than older children. They don’t lie to you, or say they “hate this stupid family”, or need to be nagged to clean their room. They don’t whinge about not owning a Lego robot, or whine that life is so “unfair”, nor do babies have the complex social and emotional lives of older kids. Babies might vomit on you daily and require you to change their nappies, but at least they don’t leave poo in the toilet, forget to wash their hands then walk around with their finger up their nose (revulsion is quite a common feeling in parenting).

For all of the frustration that the kids cause me, my children are great. It is so exciting to see Mr E and Miss A doing well at school, bringing home new maths skills, reading from books and writing sentences. Mr E is so thoughtful and kind towards me. We have the best conversations. Miss A continues to amaze me with her acrobatic skills; it’s quite a thrill to see her flying across the monkey bars (yesterday she showed me her newest trick- doing the monkey bars backwards). Miss L and Miss R get so involved in their play; it makes me laugh to hear the crazy little plot details in their stories (a dead parent is usually involved). Miss L and I have grown so much closer. She seems quite happy here, and I am developing better skills to handle any issues she has. Miss R is becoming more of a performer; singing, dancing, making up songs and putting on voices as she tells stories. The four eldest children put on two performances of Little Red Riding Hood in January. I enjoyed making plays when I was a child; seeing them being so creative warms my heart. Mr J has typical toddler moments of screaming and indecision. However I love having him around. Mostly, he’s a very cheerful, cheeky, expressive little guy. At home, he entertains himself quite well. If he’s hungry, he gets a carrot from the fridge or grabs a slice of bread. If he hurts himself, he only needs a quick acknowledgment of his pain, perhaps a little kiss of the sore, then he runs off to play. He fulfills my baby needs without the constant demands of a baby. And I would like him to stay my “baby” for a while longer.

In three years, all of my children will be at school. The years go by so quickly. I’m aware that even though I really like being a stay-at-home mother, at some point I will need to find a way to make financial contributions to our family. Perhaps that is why I get anxious about drawing a line in the sand; some solutions are just too permanent. I know how quickly life changes. Having another baby would complicate everything, but we would find a way to adjust, because I know that if God ever gifted us with another little baby, I would be utterly thrilled to see those double pink lines. There would be enough love to go around.

I am not ready to say “never again”.

But for now, I am content with “not yet”.