Why you should never ask a new mum when she’s going to have another kid

My friend gazed down at my newborn baby, Theo, and gently stroked his silky-soft cheek. 

‘He’s absolutely beautiful,’ she breathed. Then, looking up at me, she gave a cheeky grin. 

‘So, will you be having another one?’

As I looked back at her, I genuinely didn’t know what to say.

I already knew I desperately wanted another baby. Although my labour hadn’t gone to plan and I’d ended up having an emergency c-section, the minute I’d held Theo in my arms, I knew I had to experience it all over again.

Even my husband, Tom, a naturally cautious fellow who had always been wary of committing to two children, was so swept in the moment that he agreed that yes, we’d definitely go for a second one.

But was I going to tell my friend? Absolutely not. 

Because the question she is asked is one that nobody should direct at a new mum. 

And it’s because, really, it’s not that simple, is it? You can never take conceiving and carrying a baby to full term for granted and I didn’t want the pressure of someone knowing that I was thinking about trying again, before I even was.

We had been extremely lucky with Theo, now five. We had fallen pregnant on our honeymoon in Sri Lanka and although we had a few bumps along the way, my pregnancy went relatively smoothly.

However, I knew that was no guarantee that I would fall pregnant again so easily. As a journalist, I’ve spoken to dozens of women who had had a first child but then had been unable to have another. 

Secondary infertility, they call it. Absolutely devastating and made more so as these parents feel unentitled to their grief because they’ve already had a child.

There was also the fact that I was 33 when I gave birth to Theo. Not old at all, granted (although older than the average first-time mum which, three years later in 2020, was 29.1) but I’d been told, because of my c-section, it would be best to wait for 18 months before we started trying again, to allow my scar to fully heal.

That in itself wasn’t a problem. Although I wanted a second child, I was in no immediate hurry. After all, I already had a gorgeous baby to focus on and enjoy – I wanted to take the time to get to know him, to devote myself to him and give him my full attention.  

However, the healing time required would take me up to 35, the age that every woman is conscious of; the age where your fertility levels supposedly fall off a cliff and everything starts to become a bit more difficult.

And if that wasn’t enough, now that we were parents (gulp!), Tom and I also had to look at the practical elements of having two babies at once.

I’d had to save up money before having Theo to make my maternity leave more manageable, something I’d been able to do when it was just me and Tom. But would I be able to do the same when we were paying for Theo to go to nursery?

Plus, we then lived in a two-bed flat, which had seemed huge when we moved in two years before with its two double bedrooms and an ensuite in the master. 

But it had already started to shrink with Theo’s Moses basket, his new wardrobe, baby bath etc. I couldn’t imagine having two babies in there, so we’d have to factor in a move at some point, preferably before our second new addition came along.

Have you ever been asked this question and hated it? Have your say in the comments belowComment Now

And of course, my inquisitive friend didn’t know whether I might have been traumatised by a particularly horrific birth or that I wasn’t suffering from crippling postnatal depression, both things that are more common than you’d think.

All of these thoughts ran through my head in the few seconds that followed my friend’s seemingly-innocent question.

I’m usually all for honesty and I know that if I was actively trying for a baby and having difficulty, I would have confided in her.

In fact, I did, when just over a year later, we started to try for Immy and nothing happened for three months. I told her, and a few others, that we were struggling to conceive.

Of course, we weren’t, not really. Not compared to how long it takes some couples to conceive. But after it had happened straight away with Theo, those few months were agonising.

However, back then, so soon after giving birth, I couldn’t have blurted out everything that was involved in that decision. Instead, I answered with a wishy-washy, ‘We’ll see’, before asking if she wanted to hold Theo.

And she wasn’t the only one, not by a long shot. It was one of the first questions everyone asked me – even the woman in the café next door and the lady who served me in the supermarket. They were all being nice and showing an interest but that didn’t stop me feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

So, if you know of anyone who has just had a baby, please, don’t ask them about their next one. Just concentrate on the one, quite literally, in hand – because that is enough for now.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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