I always thought I’d have two or three kids, but after a perfect first pregnancy and birth, things went terribly wrong. Three weeks post-partum, I had to have emergency surgery to remove retained placenta. The procedure caused me to develop Asherman’s syndrome, which caused me to go into septic shock. After another surgery to remove my lady parts, I can no longer have kids—and I’m actually OK with it.
At least I have one beautiful child.
I obviously didn’t plan to stop with one only child, but I was surprisingly OK with it after the decision had been made for me. I didn’t have a feeling of dread that I couldn’t have more kids. I had one perfect daughter and I considered her a blessing.
Being a mom doesn’t define me.
Some women want to be moms really badly and their whole lives revolve around children, but that wasn’t me. I love being a mom, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not my defining thing in life. I didn’t need more kids to show everyone that I’m a strong woman. I’m strong in my own ways. I run a successful program with at-risk youth. I own my own home. I drive a nice car. That’s enough for me.
I don’t have a period!
No female reproductive system means no periods. It’s so nice not to have to carry around tampons or pads just in case for those emergency situations. It’s so nice not to have cramps once a month. I remember what a pain it was waiting for my period to come around every month and now I literally never have to think about it. It’s amazing.
Birth control is a thing of the past.
I was on birth control since I was in my teens. I actually got pregnant while on birth control, so not having to take it daily is freedom. Of course, there are things like IUDs and implants now that take all the guesswork out of pregnancy prevention, but it’s nice not to have to be on top of it anymore.
Kids are expensive anyway.
How do those families on TV afford 20 kids and counting? They’re so expensive—from the moment they come out, they cost a fortune. It’s a constant drain on the bank account, and it certainly doesn’t get better as they get older. Toys, clothing, soccer fees, dance recitals, etc.— you name it and the little human I pushed out wants it all. I’m not sure I could afford another child, so thankfully that decision was made for me. Plus, it allows me to buy a pair of shoes for myself every once in a while.
I actually have time for myself.
We’ve all seen those mothers who are at the grocery store with one kid in the cart, one kid walking, and another in a carrier. She looks frazzled and tired. That will never be me, thankfully. I have one child who can be left with her grandparents often as they love to see their only grandchild. I stroll through the aisles stress-free; I have the store to myself, not a kid dragging along asking for those damn toys or candy they put at the checkout counters. I have time to myself. If I want to go after work and get a pedicure, I can. It feels pretty damn good.
I can be Supermom if I have to be.
Because I have one child and won’t have any more, I can be the parent who makes the fancy cupcakes for school. I can be the mom who goes on every single field trip, even to a farm in the rain. I can be the mom who makes it to every soccer game. I can do and be all these things because I only have one child to focus on. As much as my daughter would probably love having a sibling, I also know she’ll appreciate having my undivided attention as a parent, so it’s all good.
I don’t have stretch marks.
I bathed in coconut butter during my pregnancy because I didn’t want stretch marks. This may have helped, but either way, I came out of my one pregnancy without one single mark on my body. With future pregnancies, I’m not so sure I would have been so lucky. Not that stretch marks are the end of the world, but because I only had one pregnancy, I think I’ve saved myself.
I never have to go through labor again.
I had probably a pretty easy labor and delivery compared to some women—it only took five hours for my daughter to be born. That being said, I still never want to go through that again. It’s hard work. I’ve never spoken to a woman who found labor fun, and if I ever did, I’d think she was crazy and back away slowly. After labor, you get to wear fancy mesh granny panties to keep the giant pad you wear inside, but nope, I’m not doing that again. After labor, you get to squirt warm water up your vagina when you pee to stop the burning—no thanks! While I’m so glad I got my beautiful daughter out of the experience, I’m also glad I’ll never go through that again.
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