Posts tagged children
I "only" have one child

I "only" have one child. I can hold my son's hand in the parking lot and still carry my Starbucks coffee in the other. He gets my undivided attention at all times and I never miss a somersault. I "only" have one child.


I "only" have one child. I never thought it would be this way. Everyone asks when another is coming and the truth is? I don't think one will. His only playmate, besides his dad and I, is our dog. There's no one his age to play hide and seek with and no one else in our house fits in his little hiding spots. I wish my family's circumstances allowed us to have more. Part of my heart breaks when I think he will grow up alone. I "only" have one child.


I "only" have one child. It sometimes makes me feel like I don't really count as a mother or that my struggles aren't real because it seems everyone else has double, triple, or quadruple the diapers and chaos. I feel bad discussing the difficulties of bedtime because I "only" have one bedtime routine to complete. Everyone says having "only" one was so easy as if having one wasn't still a life altering experience. I'm still tired at the end of the day and I still feel like no matter what I do, I'm not giving enough of myself. I "only" have one child.


I "only" have one child. There will only be one 1st birthday celebration in my house. There will only be one 1st tooth lost, one 1st day of school, and one 1st heart break. There will only be one baby, one toddler, and one teenager. There's only one time I will feel the joy of childbirth, the refreshing feeling of a first full night's sleep during the newborn phase, and the utter amazement at the first time my baby calls for "Mommy." I "only" have one child.


I "only" have one child. I still get tired of the constant touching. I still struggle to get the laundry done or the dishes unloaded. I still am woken up in the middle of the night and get up before dawn. I am still in a state of constant worry about his well being. It is still my responsibility to help him grow into a kind, peace-seeking, and loving man. I still matter because he needs me. I may "only" have one child, but every child "only" has one mommy, and he chose me.


I "only" have one child. I never miss a smile, giggle, or cry. There is no fighting over toys, no sharing of clothes, and no jealous tantrums. Our house can still be quiet. We can still easily and inexpensively go out for dinner, take a quick trip to Target with minimal struggle, and comfortably fit our whole family into a sedan. There's only one college tuition to worry about, one extra mouth to feed, and one booty to potty train. I "only" have one child.


I "only" have one child. My heart is still bursting at the seams. My child is my life. He is my joy, my creation, my pain, my inspiration.

I "only" have one child.

Written by, Alyson Halberstadt

Head on over to her website to read more!

Conquering Personal Goals

My goals are always evolving, moving with the wind; they sway with the breeze and change with the seasons. There are those so deeply rooted and others that are so whimsical they wither and die, not nourished and fed, their roots not planted in the depths of my mind. Then there are those sweet few that serve for a short time only, like the tulip blooming, beautiful and glorious but then slowly fading with time. It is wonderful and fulfilling in that fleeting moment, giving you a sense of pride and wonder, even though short lived.  

My husband and I were on holidays in Europe when we found out I was pregnant with my first child; we were celebrating the end of my university degree. I wasn’t 21 years old. I was 30. I had made choices to this point in my life that meant I had only just begun the journey of pursuing my passions and sometimes my mind was so full of the cavities of regret, I felt that I had left my time too late. If only I’d had the courage to begin this degree when I was still young enough to throw all my energy into a career. Now here I was at the threshold of another new beginning and I was both wonderfully joyed at my pregnancy and secretly a little despondent that it hadn’t happened a year later. 

As leaves drop from the trees, the cold winter leaves us hibernating, like my goals, placed on the back burner, gone but not forgotten; waiting for the burst of sun for the energy to give it new life, for spring to awaken seeds for new growth. When my first born arrived, my creative root appeared withered and lifeless, I was fearful it had died as my mind seemed so absorbed in finding my role as a mother and tending to dirty nappies ripped my soul of creativity.

Before kids, we used to begin each year with a list of goals, everything we wanted to achieve that year. Time and freedom allowed us to throw all our energy into creating the life we wanted, and we ticked those ambitions off our lists, month by month, year by year, we achieved aspirations of overseas travel, promotions, study, new business ventures and home ownership. Now 3 years into this parenting role (another life ‘goal’), we’ve stopped these lists. The first year we continued our tradition but then forgot about it as the days of the year were consumed in daily tasks, no longer goals, it was survival, it was the day to day, it was work, eat, clean, sleep. The attempted holidays were wonderful but not bucket-list, goal-ticking achievements. They were short escapes close enough to home that we didn’t have to endure long travel time with a restless toddler. We avoided anything with winding roads and boat trips after discovering (the bad way) that we had a poor baby who suffered from travel sickness. Goals didn’t matter anymore. Family time mattered, as simple as it was.

Sometimes the drought drags on, the inspiration of my heart and mind on a steady decline, we toil with no reward; we see the weeds, tenacious as they are take place of the beauty, the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the mundane, they grow and flourish and destroy the glorious. Then it takes hard work to clear the land. We need to rip and dig and shed and discard the weeds to make room.

Some days it feels like I exist only in 2-hour segments, there are 6 of them in a day. And some days by segment 3, I’ve had enough, I’m ready to curl up on the couch with a book or a movie and switch off mentally…from the noise the activity, the need to entertain and the obligation to achieve. Other days I feel angry because it seems no matter how busy I am, no matter how much I run around and wear myself out, I still fall short of the basic goals I want to achieve. The pile of books I long to read, the thoughts that take bloom in mind to write down are all but lost and the quality time with friends I so crave. Instead, life consists of clearing the washing pile, cooking dinner and attempting to mop the floors. 

If you ask me what my goals are now, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe it is to confidently call myself a writer.  But the truth is I think I stopped working on these things and allowed the daily tasks and to do lists to take over. After all, it takes work to sow the land and conquering goals takes dedication. I don’t aim to wake before the sun, before the birds and before my children to toil away at those pressing goals, instead like the last falling leaf of autumn I allow myself to drift and float, I meander through the meadows of my mind and I let my motivation take its free will, to come and go as it pleases.  But as the winds change, my heart slowly drifts with the changing season, it returns with a new depth and new shoots of leaves (after a little pruning) show promise of new growth. No longer do I have long term goals for job promotions and overseas travel, as I grow, the goals may seem a little less ambitious, perhaps more philosophical; I’m focused on finding myself, finding peace in the slow everyday moments, more patience, more acceptance and I’m learning to stop and be in the moment.   

Recently my youngest was struggling to fall asleep, so sapped of energy myself I lay beside his cot, my hand stretched through the bars to settle gently on his back, when I felt his breathing settle into those deep long breaths I withdrew my arm and lay listening to the gentle rhythm, until after a moment a small hand dropped through the gaps, tiny fingers circling the air searching for a lost hand. In the darkness I couldn’t make out his face, just his small hand sitting softly in mine and I realized what everyone tells you, cherish these moments for they are so fleeting and one day when I look at my grown son, I’ll long for that time when his hand searched for mine.

There are moments in drought when a single flower blooms, and inspiration takes hold. Words flow freely, the mothering load is light, you’re the person you want to be, your children don’t fight, they listen, they laugh instead of cry and you’re winning at life. Your garden is blossoming and it’s glorious to admire. Standing back, for a moment in time you feel immensely proud, you feel you’ve made it, taking in the lay of the land and my isn’t she beautiful. But you know nothing sits still for too long, the grass will grow, the seasons will change and the petals will drop ready for you to toil again. It takes work, sometimes nature helps you along, a long day of rain feeding the soil, luck and inspiration coming your way and opportunity opening up. Then other days the rain doesn’t come, the sun doesn’t shine and the roots don’t take hold. You’re sowing and reaping no reward. The weeds take over, you lose inspiration and you forget to tend to the land. This can be motherhood; your personal goals seem long forgotten. But don’t lose hope, as the sun will still shine, the rain will come and when the conditions are right, you will reap again.

Journalist: Katy Andrews