Room for More

I vividly remember being gripped by fear in the weeks leading up to the birth of my second child as I honestly believed we had created the perfect human being in our first child Abby, and I thought it was grossly unfair to expect another child to ever live up to her.  Admittedly, she was only two years old at that point and scarcely had the opportunity for fault to be found. 

Abby was a text book child, sleeping ten hours at night by ten weeks of age, feeding easily and rarely crying.  She had big blue eyes and chubby cheeks framed by gorgeous honey curls.  In her toddler years, she ate fruit and vegetables daily, giggled often, never threw tantrums and greeted me each morning by saying 'Hello darling, good sleep?'  She was divine.

I was afraid there was no room left in my heart for more, and it seemed neither possible nor fair to get another perfect child.  The labour with Charlotte (my second daughter) was more difficult than my first, and her eventual arrival was all the more emotional because of it.  I wept with relief when she was born, and was overwhelmed by my feelings of love for her.  These feelings were instantaneous and I knew that my fears had been in vain as the bond was immediate.

When pregnant with my third daughter I didn’t experience the same fear I had with my previous pregnancy as I knew there was room for more love in our hearts.  At the twenty week scan I found out we were having another girl, and my heart initially sank as I knew that Tubs was desperate for a son.  Our plan at that point was to have only three children and I didn’t like knowing the dynamic of my family before this child had even arrived in the world.

Once again, the minute Lulu arrived and was put in my arms, I was overwhelmed with love for the warm bundle of squirming pinkness - my little princess.  The adrenalin rush which ensued caused me to send a text message to everyone I knew, announcing Lulu’s birth and promising a boy would be next.  

Despite this, having three children remained the plan for the two years which followed, but that all changed when we spent a summer holiday by the sea with a family of six, made up of three daughters and one son.  The children were aged between eleven and five and the mother spent her days sunning herself and reading magazines while the children frolicked by the sea.  Charlotte bonded with the 7 year old boy who was so divine that we made many offers to adopt him.

The mother of these children convinced me that four was a wonderful dynamic and that no mother should be without a son.  I was easily persuaded by this glamorous woman who made it all seem so easy.  She took down my postal address and promised to send me the ‘recipe’ for a boy.  Sure enough, it arrived soon after we returned home, and we conscientiously followed the instructions.   Tubs did things he will never live down, and which clearly demonstrated his determination to produce an heir.

We conceived very quickly and with this pregnancy my fears returned.  I was not afraid of not loving this child, as I knew I would, but I was very concerned about having no time to care for it.  At the end of each day I would stare into space in my exhausted state, and wonder how on earth I would have cared for an infant in the day that had just been.  I never had an answer to comfort myself and just hoped against hope that it would all be ok.

This time we didn’t find out what gender the baby was, I even went to the extreme of not letting Tubs come to the twenty week scan as I knew he would insist on finding out.  I was genuinely afraid he would lose interest in this child before it was born if he discovered it was not a boy.  I was quietly hoping for a girl as I had no idea what I would do with a boy – or with all the pink clothing, toys and linen!

My fourth labour was very quick and Tubs only attended the last twenty minutes of it.  A veteran of three previous childbirths, he was somewhat hardened to the process and coped well in the lead up. But when our fourth child arrived and was pronounced a girl, he rapidly went pale and retreated to an armchair in the corner.  Tubs no longer proposes we have more children, and maintains that he doesn’t care that he has no son.  Perhaps he is feeling as overworked as I am, or it may be that the pediatricians prediction that he would be ‘greeted like a rock star’ every night of his life is coming true.   He knows that his daughters adore him and they will dote on him forever.  He also looks forward to the day the girls will bring their boyfriends home for a beer with their dear old dad.

In conclusion, and in response to the question I am so often asked; there will be no more.  I love the dynamic of my family and do not yearn for a boy.  I love the idea of a grown son, but am happy to make do with son-in-laws in the future.   Tubs meanwhile, is consoled by the thought he is living proof of the theory that all great sportsmen only have daughters (he still holds the record of ‘all time leading goal kicker’ in his footy club – a legend he’d be happy to tell you all about, but this is my blog, not his!).