ONE CHILD: ‘You’re selfish and it’s not a real family’

ALICE WRIGHT, 46, is married and has a son, Stanley, ten

I don’t know when I realised that I was a ‘one and done’ mum. I don’t think a decision was taken, but when my son was born I instinctively knew he would be my one and only.

Yes, labour was a bit of a struggle but my son wasn’t a difficult child – far from it – and my experience was probably similar to most new mothers: tiring, guilt-ridden and confusing. It certainly wasn’t bad enough to make me shut up shop for good. I just couldn’t see myself with another child because I already had mine. At first it was inconceivable to even imagine having another while still cradling the energy thief that is a newborn. But, as time stretched on, it became even clearer to me and my husband that a second child wasn’t going to be part of our lives. We didn’t even try and we were absolutely happy with that decision.

Strangely, no one else seemed to be. I was told on countless occasions by well-meaning friends and family that I ‘didn’t mean it’ or ‘you’ll change your mind’ – or worse, that it was ‘a bit selfish’. Other new mums I had met were disconcerted when I was getting rid of outgrown Babygros because shouldn’t I keep them ‘just in case’? I was even encouraged to start thinking about ‘number two’ during a hospital checkup.

When the second babies started coming, it was suggested that surely I was feeling broody again by now. Well, I wasn’t. Having a cuddle with someone else’s child doesn’t make me want to change my life and, besides, I have lovely, fuzzy memories of my own boy for when I want to take a trip down broody lane. To go back to babyhood always felt like a step in the wrong direction. So we never turned back and I haven’t regretted it.

I’ve run the whole gamut of motherhood and I’ve experienced it all, but during conversations with other parents I’ve been made to feel that having only one isn’t a real family, as though we haven’t done it properly.

Someone once told me I was ‘lucky’ because I only had one to worry about, suggesting they were a bit more stretched than I was – as though we didn’t have the same concerns for our only child, or that he wasn’t enough to worry about. It was as if having two or more kids gets you a bigger tick in the parenting book. Even now, as we approach the teenage years, there is still a look of surprise when I mention that my son is an only child. There’s suspicion he might be strange, lonely, bored, selfish or spoilt. I know he’s none of those things. Well, maybe a little spoilt because he hasn’t had to compete with any siblings for his parents’ love, attention or funds. So perhaps he’s the lucky one.