ADHD, motherhood, and learning to say when
The reason I stopped at two kids and why Trump's $5,000 is not enough to change my mind
The overflowing cereal bowl. The overworked cheese grater at the Olive Garden. The globs of nail polish that would never dry. Shredding paper with the saturation from my markers. Clogging every toilet I ever used with too much TP. For me, a raging ADHDer, more has always been better. I never knew when to say “when”.
I know the reason I’ve never found much in the way of articles or blogs on this topic (motherhood, not cheese). It’s because motherhood and the choices we make around it are extremely personal. Women fear writing their truths because it could offend or hurt the women in their lives with different experiences or perspectives.
I’m writing this piece about me and no one else.
I know and admire many women who have three, four, five, six, or more children and make it look easy. I know and admire women with zero children and unimaginably fulfilling lives.
There’s no one way and no single right choice to do anything. Just ask the internet! But I’m writing this piece because it’s the one I needed a few years ago.
If this isn’t relevant to your experience or your choices — if you’re fortunate enough to have them — then you’ll find (or write) what you need. I needed this perspective. I needed to hear it’s okay to stop at two.
I needed to hear it’s okay to say “when”.
Being “done” is difficult
I’ll always miss the feel of a chubby diapered bottom on my hip. The magic of nighttime feedings when me and my baby were the only souls on Earth. The smell of Dreft. The sound of baby giggles and blowing raspberries. Tiny toes against my cheeks during changes. Onesies and sleep sacks. Learning new ways to care for them and discovering my motherhood one scary and magical milestone at a time.
I love my kids so much. Of course, I want more. Wanting more is - for me - innate, biological, emotional, impossible to escape. Being “done” is not an easy choice to come to.
But as much as I lament that choice, I rejoice in it. I know the decision to have two children is 100% the best one for me and my family.
Limits don’t have to be limiting
The last few years of self-discovery have helped me understand and embrace both my incredible strengths and the realities of my limitations. They have also helped me grasp a vision of the person I want to be and create pathways to that vision.
The reality is, I may not be able to do all the things I thought. And that includes adding a third child to our family, something I wanted so desperately for many years.
For the good of my family, I’m doing something I’ve never been proficient at (especially when the choice is highly emotional): having restraint.
I had to reframe what restraint meant. I had to understand how this restraint does not limit my life but instead expands its possibilities. It leaves room for wonder, playfulness, slow days, and discovery, allowing me—a person who doesn’t know when to say “when”—to have more of the two children I already have.
To be there for every game, match, or practice.
To have the ability to step up and take on more for others without overextending myself.
To be able to prioritize my marriage and other relationships.
To have time to nurture passions, hobbies, and health - the things that make me a better, more joyful person and mother.
To have mindful space to appreciate the way their little fingers wrap around the back of my hand.
To have room in my day for an extra story before bed or to lay with them when they’re scared.
To have capacity to tune into the things that make them special, laugh at all their witty remarks, and marvel at their amazing thoughts.
To be as hyperfocused as I want to be on each of my kids and fully immerse myself in the wonderful I already have.
For me the choice wasn’t about the practical things. Yes, we already have the bedrooms, the third row in our car. The answer was never going to be a logical one for me. It had to speak to my heart.
Now I know, there’s more than one way to have more of them.
Support for moms can make all the difference
This isn’t to say moms with more kids can’t do these things. Those moms know themselves, and they understand the internal and external supports they have.
Sure, money - like the proposed $5,000 baby bonus Trump wants to offer to incentivize births - would have helped me… but it’s not nearly enough to cover the support needs of new motherhood. Not. Even. Close. Plus, when the cost to raise a child from birth to 18 is nearly a quarter of a million dollars, this feels like a drop in the already leaky bucket of support for parents.
Things like paid maternity leave, job flexibility, affordable childcare, mother-centered healthcare, paid help like house cleaners, access to therapeutic services, and a village of supportive family and friends to rely on are the things that make the real difference between barely surviving motherhood and loving it.
I know what I didn’t have… and what I still don’t have. A third baby is just not in the cards for me.
It’s about coming to terms with my reality and not only accepting it but embracing it.
I already have all I need
A singular kind of grief is born the moment you realize the distance between reality and the life you once imagined. And yet, so is a kind of gratitude.
In a newsletter titled “The magic of an unwanted life”, author Mary Adkins, who recently released her memoir on pregnancy loss, talks about finding beauty in the life that’s different than the one you envisioned…
“But here in 2025, I find myself mother of an only kid, which has amounted to a life in which I’m invited to play every day. And that’s honestly beautiful—not something I would have planned for myself and exactly the thing I need.
Last week, I wrote about how we show up to write when we feel like we’re at the end of the world. This week I’m thinking about the same question from a different angle—how the realities we didn’t ask for, even those that we actively hoped against, can turn out to be magical.”
While I would never equate my grief to that of anyone who has experienced a miscarriage, I can relate to Mary’s commitment to surrendering to the life she’s been given and embracing what she has more than regretting what she does not.
I’ve finally learned how to paint my nails thoughtfully in thin coats so they dry faster. I finally know when to tell the server, “That’s enough cheese for me, thanks.” I can taste the main dish better this way.
I think about the Rolling Stones lyrics, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need.”
Or you realize you already have it.
I’m a big fan of listening to your body, something else I’m learning how to do after a lifetime of not doing it. If this article made you feel tense, sad, regretful, or angry - perhaps that’s your body’s way of telling you that you disagree… that you aren’t done.
Or if you’re angry for another reason, remember it’s never too late to ask for the support you need and deserve in order to change your reality.
If this article brought you comfort, perhaps you already have everything you need, and - like me - you simply want more of it.
Maybe this wasn’t the perspective I needed years ago… maybe it’s simply the one I need now.
Or you realize you already have it. Boom!