f you were to ask me when I knew I was done having kids, I would tell you, “I knew I was done the day after I brought my son home from the hospital, the day postpartum depression sucker-punched me in the face.” One year after I became a mom, I was getting a mani pedi next to a woman who asked if I had children. I told her I had a 1-year old boy. She then asked the dreaded question most people follow up with. “When are you having your next one?” I told her I wasn’t–that my husband and I decided one was enough and the right decision for our family. Our family felt complete. I don't even know why I felt like I had to justify my decision to a complete stranger. I guess I didn't want my response to be met with the usual, "You will change your mind." Or "What do your parents think? Don't they want lots of grandchildren?" "Don’t you think he should have a sibling to play with?" But she surprised me. She replied that, “She only had one son and that sometimes when you create a masterpiece, it doesn’t make any sense to paint another.” Saying you are "one and done" isn't always met with such acceptance. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I made the best choice for my family. I wanted to be the best mommy I could be to my son and part of that meant always taking care of my health. I chose to give him a happy, healthy mommy rather than a sibling. When Mason turned 1, I finally felt confident and happy as his mommy. I felt like I had come so far. I went through so much in that first year and I just knew I couldn’t go backwards. No more pregnancies, no more infant stage, no more sleep training or bottles of formula. I just wanted to keep going forward, growing as my son’s mommy, as he continued to grow into a little person. Also, I didn't want to get PPD again. I already missed so much of his first year and I refused to miss any more. He'd also be old enough to see his mommy sick and suffering. My baby has grown into an independent, brave, strong, compassionate, opinionated, social, curious, amazing 8-year old. He is my masterpiece. I'm proud of both of us. And on a more superficial level, an airplane row fits us perfectly. Mommy, daddy, and son. iPads out, headphones on, and away we go!