In those moments, a deep, instinctive feeling touches me, and honestly, after nine years, I feel more ready for motherhood again than ever before. Yet, when I truly reflect on whether I want a second child, the answer is clear: no.
The UNFPA’s 2025 report "The Real Fertility Crisis" shows many around the world wish for a second or third child but face various obstacles. These can include health issues, housing challenges, job insecurity, the costs of raising children, fear of the future, or simply not having the right partner to expand the family.
Often, it’s a combination of factors, as it was for us:
A birth my body and soul carried for a long time (and still do)
My daughter’s birth didn’t go as I had imagined. Although I had a midwife, she was on shift that day and could only be partially by my side. The system swept me along: unnecessary tests and interventions that, looking back, weren’t needed. I spent three days in the hospital completely alone with a newborn, and nurses only came in to pull the blinds as they wished. The doctor’s visit happened from the doorway—in words only.
Those three days were the hardest of my life—not because of labor pain, but due to feeling helpless and vulnerable.
Then my daughter had five months of intense colic that nothing seemed to ease, though believe me, I tried everything. (Looking back, it’s no surprise she showed symptoms too.)
The confusion, despair at not being able to help my own child, and overwhelming exhaustion... these memories haven’t faded in nine years. I know it’s not inevitable that it would happen again, but the thought still lingers: what if it does?
We consciously built our life around one child
Over time, we shaped our life not just emotionally but physically around having one child. We didn’t want to cut corners—not just financially, but also with time and attention—and our home was built with “two bedrooms are enough for us.”
Sure, we could expand or renovate, and we both grew up sharing rooms with siblings—but this is about more than square footage. Our focus has always been to give our daughter everything we missed as kids.
I’m not just talking about material things, but safety, peace, quality presence, and opportunities that both of us had to give up for various reasons.
We’re not perfect, and our goal isn’t to spoil our only daughter, but we’ve stayed consistent in our intentions. Another child wouldn’t fit into this setup without taking away something we truly value.
My work is not a burden, it’s part of me
I only took one year off after my daughter was born (and I’m so grateful for the perks of working from home), but even then, I longed to get back to work. It wasn’t duty or money driving me, but the joy of writing. This isn’t just a job or obligation—it’s an active part of my life. When a topic comes to mind, it keeps buzzing until I write it out.
Luckily, this ability didn’t fade during pregnancy—in fact, I’ve trained in two new areas since then, where I also want to grow.
I know that with a tiny baby—even with help—it would be impossible to keep all these threads in good hands. I’m not saying it can’t be done, but for me, it wouldn’t work without feeling scattered. I’d get exhausted. And I’ve learned that when I’m too tired, nothing good comes of it.
My body would react differently now
I don’t feel old, but I know my body isn’t the same as nine years ago. When my daughter was born, I hadn’t even turned 27—I can’t (and don’t want to) compete with my younger self. Old sports injuries remind me to slow down, and I fully understand the physical toll pregnancy takes.
I’m not just talking about carrying extra weight (which is plenty) or waking up at night, but about how the body shifts to a different rhythm, loses some control, and—even though I loved being pregnant—it was hard to experience. Now, years later, I see clearly: if I don’t feel physically strong enough, I have to accept that. There’s nothing wrong with that.
This feels complete to us, but others find fulfillment differently
I believed a family was only “real” with at least two kids—until my daughter was born. Since then, her dad and I have felt more and more that this is complete and perfect. We travel several times a year, exploring new countries together, and now we can confidently take her anywhere. But because of her age, if we go somewhere just the two of us, we can leave her happily with the grandparents.
I don’t feel like starting a family has drained us; rather, we’ve found balance. Yes, having one child can be tough (I know this well), but I feel we’re not constantly overwhelmed or exhausted.
We don’t have to split ourselves two or three ways, and there’s so much more time for patience, hugs, and calm than not—because two adults focus on one child.
Maybe for some, having multiple kids brings this sense of arrival, or for others, a child-free life does—and that’s the point. Not everyone needs to feel good the same way, but we all need to know how to thrive in our own lives.
