And my dark, bitter response to this (as it didn't make me happy or joyful or appreciative or any emotion that you normal BBers felt):


Dear mother of many children.

Wow, nine children. I'm allowed to say wow. But your life isn't harder than mine. It's different.

My child is not heavy, he is great (well, OK, he is heavy if he's tired and I've carried him in my arms for a mile because we've packed the baby carrier away now). I enjoy time spent with him. Sure, I miss adults and would love for him to have a sibling to play with, but he is a great person and I don't miss seeing him develop. When my 6-year-old wakes at night I used to say "this will pass", right from the start, now I just ask "when will this pass?" as I'm sure you would if you had a non-sleeping screaming school-age child. There aren't that many of them, from anecdotal evidence. Aren't I blessed with a lovely rare gift? You cry from sheer tiredness? When you have "only one" child, and that child is at school, suddenly the sympathy of "baby kept me up all night" goes. I miss the sympathy. And I don't give a damn what others think of my parenting skills (I know they're great - despite my son not sleeping, which is clearly my fault) or my son (he's awesome, if they don't see it they miss out).

You know what is harder in my life than yours though? I want more children. Each day that goes past I see what I have and the so much more I should have. I'm a mother of ONLY one, and I will use the word only. Cos I should be the mother of many. And don't you dare take that away from me with your little platitudes and how great your life is when you have nine children. I can only imagine and turn green. You have a husband who loves you and wishes to make your life fulfilled. Wow, I do look like the wicked witch of the west now.

Sincerely,
A bitter, twisted and unfulfilled woman.