Will I ever wear my pants again? You know, the kind that actually zip and fasten with a button. The kind that are marketed as “skinny” even though I’m not. The kind that close without spandex and a prayer.
"HAVING ONE CHILD…AND KIND OF, SORT OF, BEING 'OKAY' WITH IT" BY LOURDES DIAZ ISCOVE
I’ve read countless blog posts about why some families choose to be “one and done.” The litany of reasons: They loved being an only child; they have practical financial reasons to consider; they had a difficult pregnancy and don’t want to endure that again. I don’t want to repeat what you’ve probably already read countless times. Instead, let me take you through my thought process for my decision and, why, at first glance, my choice may seem ambivalent.
For me, motherhood does feel ambivalent at times. I can’t encapsulate such a monumental change in my life into one emotion which is why I can’t see being “one and done” as a black and white issue either. It doesn’t feel and probably will never feel like a solid decision for me. Instead, it feels like several opposing forces battling each other.
One of the earliest memories I have of my mother is of her reaching underneath the tablecloth during dinner, grasping the flesh on my upper thigh with her long, richly painted fingernails, and digging in until I bled. I suppose it was a shock to me the first time it happened, but I learned to expect it, so that all she had to do was look at me after a while and I instinctively reached to cover my legs with my hands. Her family and friends always marveled at how well-behaved I was and, to this day, my mother loves to brag about what a flawless child I was — always quiet, always clean and always pleasant — she could bring me anywhere!