I'm Not Having More Babies. Here's Why.

Over the summer, our family of five drove two hours to spend three nights in paradise, in west Wales. Packing began just a few hours before we left, throwing random clothes and toiletries and beach gear into large carrier bags. I thought more about what we needed for the dog than I did about what we needed for the kids.

The drive was pleasant, with a stop at my coffee shop of choice, Gregg’s. As an aside, I have had a lot of cappuccinos and Gregg’s, at only £2, has one of the best.  

Over the next three days, we didn’t consider bedtimes, sleeplessness, naps, nappy changes, or what the kids would eat at meals. At the beach, no child ate the sand or smeared it in their eyes. I finished a book, perched on the sand with a coffee while the kids played on their own. The kids can all swim so I wasn’t constantly worried someone would drown. We watched films at night that were actually funny, even to adults. The kids could even take the dog out for a walk on the farm we stayed on, while we stayed inside.

Whereas holidays in the past, with babies and toddlers, can often feel like harder work than they’re worth, this holiday felt like a rest, a reset.

It isn’t just holidays that are easier without babies and toddlers.  

I sleep soundly most nights, rested after years of dark circles under my eyes. I don’t breastfeed. I don’t wake up at 5am. I shower without worrying someone is going to break a bone. The kids bathe themselves. They get themselves breakfast. They talk to me about interesting topics when I take them for coffee and cake. There are typically a lot less tantrums. A routine doesn’t have to be stuck to religiously. I can put the TV on for them on when I need to work, or if I just need a little bit of a break. They can be dropped at birthday parties, so I can do the shopping. Speaking of shopping, I don’t have to worry about tantrums or soiled nappies while I’m filling my trolley with food for the week.

While having babies and toddlers has some absolutely magical moments (gazing into a baby’s eyes while they feed and twirl your hair, catching their first word, doing arts and craft projects they are genuinely excited about, wanting to be with you all the time), it’s also very, very intense. Or at least I found it that way.

Yet despite the perks of moving into the parenting older children stage, I’m starting to reminisce about some of the lesser remembered benefits of having super young children, especially when I see friends of mine that have babies and toddlers.

When you’ve got little kids, people want to talk to you when you’re out and about. Introverts might hate this, but for someone who loves a chat, I adored when someone would notice and comment on my kids’ long eyelashes or inviting smile, and then follow it up with a full-blown conversation.

I miss playgroups – natural, yet unnatural, contexts to meet new people going through the same things. I rarely meet new mums now. And if I want to meet up with friends for a cuppa, there is no set-in-place meeting time and place – we have to work around work schedules and after school clubs.

Surprisingly, I miss a “slow” schedule. I get it. Having a baby in arms or toddler running wild isn’t slow. But we’re now at the stage that every day apart from Wednesday is a club. Swimming, climbing, and football times three.

And even though it is physically gruelling to be needed 24/7 to keep another human being alive, I miss being needed in the same capacity. For years, I knew exactly what my purpose was. I had chosen to stay home with my kids, and so I threw my everything into that. There’s something entirely satisfying about being consumed with raising children, and equally, overwhelming.

But I’m not in that phase anymore. My kids are 10, 8, and 6. While I would have actually loved to have more, we don’t make heaps of money (although, much much much more than the most of the world – I’ll never forget that), don’t have access to childcare help, and I had three absolutely terrible births.

So it’s decided. No more babies. And really, I’m relieved.

But as every parent through the ages knows, parenting doesn’t stop when you aren’t needed to literally provide food for a child via your chest.

We are now entering a territory that is completely unknown to me. Raising tiny kids was second nature, in a way. I babysat since I was 11 and got my university degree in early childhood education. I knew all about little kids.

But pre-pubescent and teenage children, I haven’t got a clue. I’m heading into murky waters, and I’m already lost, often going to bed replaying the day and all that I could have said or done differently. Then, getting up the next day, and making a whole new set of mistakes I will ruminate on in the evening.

It feels like, a lot, but I’m starting to see glimmers of who my children will one day be. Sifting through their attitudes, peer pressure, disinterest, arguments, and poor decisions, I see them, who they are and who they might become. And I love it. I love them. I love being a mum, but am so done being a mum to babies.