Growing up with just one sister – my mum’s own backlash against her own upbringing as one of 13 kids – I often felt we were missing something. Games of tag, hide and seek, and Uno felt a little lacklustre with just two participants. So wisely, I resolved that when I grew up, I would have three children.
But after two births involving excessive blood loss, then experiencing the extremes of sleep deprivation and the isolation of maternity leave, my husband and I are resoundingly on the same page – we are two and through.
My childhood fantasy has given way to the reality of parenting, and our idea of a comfortable, happy life. Our three-bedroom house and medium-sized car are at max capacity, and we have no interest in shelling out the cash for an upgrade on both to accommodate more kids. We’ve just about mastered the morning and evening routines with two, and have a work-life balance that feels good.
We also love to travel – with family and friends in Australia, it’s non-negotiable. As a family of four, we’ve not only been to Australia twice, but Dubai, Thailand, Estonia, Greece, France, and South Korea, and this half term we are going to the Seychelles. We feel like we’ve cracked traveling as a family of four, from finances to time zones and jetlag, to routines, activities and child-friendly food.
From a personal perspective, I also need a decent amount of downtime away from working and parenting to keep my mental health afloat. With two kids, I feel I’m already at my maximum limit – a third would send me straight into overwhelm.
And having experienced pregnancy and childbirth twice, I don’t want to put my body through that again. It served me well both times, breastfeeding both boys for 18 months each, so I have a lot to be proud of. Some might call these views selfish, but I’m entitled to them.
Two kids isn’t too far off the national average, with families in the UK having an average of 1.44 children (based on the number of children born to women in England and Wales between 2022 and 2023). In fact, more families are opting for one child – in 2023 there were estimated to be around 3.7 million one-child families in the UK, with a further 3.38 million two-child families, and 1.18 million families that have three or more children.
So it’s settled – no more kids. Or that’s what I think, until I see someone in my peer network deciding to go for a third, or even fourth child.
I’ve clocked two just in the last month, and I have to admit, this is stirring up a Fomo and comparison crisis in me. There’s the obvious regret at not having another small baby to take care of – I am painfully conscious of experiencing “last” moments with our two-year-old as he gets bigger – but what I’m more worried about is what it says about me.
Knowing what I do about my own mental and physical limits, when I see another mum pregnant with a third or fourth child, I can’t help thinking they must clearly be a better mother, and overall human, than me. I’m amazed – even jealous – at how they’re able to cope with such little downtime, not to mention the sleep deprivation small babies come with.
I wonder what superhuman capabilities, or super loving personalities, people with more than two kids must have – and why don’t I have them? What am I missing? Are some people just wired to have harder boundaries than others, or higher coping abilities for everything that having more kids involves?
Dr Frankie Harrison, a clinical psychologist who specialises in working with parents of premature babies, says yes.
“Everyone has a different-sized stress bucket. We all have different capacities for stress and demand. Some people have a bigger bucket, meaning they can take on more before they feel overwhelmed. Others have a smaller bucket, where stress spills over more quickly,” Dr Harrison assures me.
“Some of this is down to personality, temperament, adaptability, and resilience. But life experience plays a huge role too.
“Parents who have been through trauma, mental health struggles, or other significant challenges may find that their bucket is already pretty full, or that it’s naturally smaller because they’ve had to carry so much already. This doesn’t mean they are ‘less than’ or ‘not strong enough’. It just means they’ve had a different path, one that may make the idea of adding more children feel overwhelming.”
While comparing ourselves against others is our way of finding where we fit, Dr Harrison adds, it’s also worthwhile questioning where those feelings come from.
She recommends asking myself if this is actually about wanting another child, or is it about feeling like I don’t measure up to others? Am I making this choice based on my values or on a fear of being left out? If I had more support, energy, or capacity, would my decision change? Or would I still feel done?
Seeing how much my two boys, who are two and five, idolise each other, of course I would love them to have another sibling if I had that extra capacity or energy – and if we weren’t already in our forties. But beyond my own personal limits, support also does come into it. With my family in Australia, we have just one set of grandparents to rely on, who are in their seventies, so their own energy and capacity is a factor, too. And ultimately, I don’t want to become a screaming, stressed out mum who has no idea who she is any more. I don’t want to ruin the family equilibrium we’ve carefully created.
These are questions I am not alone in asking. Liz Mosley, 39, a graphic designer from Cardiff, has two children, and also feels she’s reached her limit.
“I have been open to having a third child – as I was one of three myself, I really enjoyed having two siblings. As time has gone on, though, I have felt like we are at capacity,” says Mosley.
“My husband and I both work for ourselves, and neither of our kids were good sleepers. I feel like the financial, physical and mental stress that having another kid would result in would be more than we have capacity for, based on our current life circumstances.”
Mosley says her husband feels the same way. They’ve both agreed that taking a break from their businesses would have a big impact financially, and having done one maternity leave already with statutory maternity pay, it would be a noticeable change from their current standard of living.
But Mosley also hasn’t managed to keep the Fomo at bay. “A lot of my friends have had third and fourth kids, and when I see them it sends me into a little spiral of questioning our choice. I think deep down I feel confident we have made the right decision for us, but there is always this little seed of doubt,” she says.
For some, Dr Harrison points out, the decision to stop having children (or have them at all) is something that has been taken out of their hands. “Whether due to infertility, birth trauma, medical reasons, financial constraints, or other life circumstances, not being able to grow your family when you deeply want to can be incredibly painful,” she says. It’s a humble reminder to recognise the privilege of choice.
But to stop that seed of doubt from taking root, Dr Harrison advocates assessing whether your decision to not have more children aligns with the life you want to live.
“If your biggest values are connection and presence, and you know another child would stretch you too thin to meet those, stopping at one or two may be the best decision for you,” she says.
“If your biggest values are growth and challenge, and parenting more children fits into that, you might decide to keep going. If your biggest value is mental well-being, and you know another child would impact that, choosing to stop is an intentional act of self-care. When we shift the focus from what others are doing to what aligns with our values, the Fomo becomes easier to sit with.”
In a culture that glorifies doing it all, setting a boundary around your own limits can feel like failing, Dr Harrison acknowledges. But in fact, she says it can be an act of deep self-awareness.
“Taking this into account when deciding whether to have another child isn’t weakness, it’s strength. It’s being attuned to your own nervous system, your own capacity, and your own life situation,” she says.
“Recognising your limits isn’t failure. It’s making an informed decision based on what’s right for you, rather than what others are doing. And that is something to be proud of.”
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