I lack maternal instinct for stopping at one. Really?

BBC newsreader, Kate Silverton, recently revealed that the arrival of her second child heralded a massive change in her family dynamic.

It’s hardly the most shocking of revelations, but it’s worthy of consideration, none the less.

Kate discussed feeling torn between her children and admitted to putting one before the other, regardless of the latter’s feelings.

She revealed that she’ll never be able to parent them in the same way.

And she admitted she felt guilt over her varying approaches to her children.

All of the above are the main reasons I happily chose to stop at just one.

I made a conscious decision not to become pregnant again because I found Ella’s presence so overwhelming. My love for her was all-encompassing and her presence was larger was than anything I could have ever anticpated. I reasoned that if I struggled to tend to her and her needs, how would I ever manage to divide my time in two or even three?

“You just will,” my mum insisted. “Everyone does.”

“Not me!” I responded brightly.

If I was meant to feel guilty, then they were looking at the wrong woman.

Guilt? I felt proud that I had decided to dedicate myself to one child and patted myself on the back for not pretending to be something I’m not.

Don’t get me wrong, I applaud women I see who are dealing with a brood of children with remarkable patience and grace, but I know I could never ever do it. 

Loathe as I am to admit it, I fear I would resent one at some points and the other at different points.

They would encroach on each other, they would encroach on my time with one and they would never, ever, ever get the best of me.

“They would,” my mum told me, almost choking back tears as if I was throwing my chance at motherhood away.

I reminded her of the child playing at our feet as she subtly lamented my lack of maternal instinct.

“Think of everything Ella brought to this house. You would get that and more with a new arrival.”

But I wasn’t buying it.

I don’t expect everyone to understand where I’m coming from, but I know the person I am and I know the person I never want to become, and the arrival of another child will almost surely bring that person about.

My heart breaks for women I know who would give anyting to extend their family, but I don't question their desires and I don't understand why I have to explain mine.

Am I selfish for not even trying? Am I being short-sighted? Am I failing to see the bigger picture? I don’t think so.

I’m trying to give my child the very best of myself. And I know, for me, there's only one way to do that.