My second was a miracle. They both were, really. My ex had pretended for years to want a family. The first time, he got furious with me when I was 5 months along and chased me out of the house. We went to therapy and supposedly figured it out.

At one point in the years following, he got a vasectomy and never told me. We were trying to have a second for three months before he broke down sobbing, and I guessed what happened. More therapy, he got a reversal (his choice) and then promptly threatened to leave me multiple times. One time in the middle of this, I let him have sex with me and I got pregnant. Then he tried to throw me out of the house in front of my screaming toddler.

That time, I realized I was being abused and started divorce proceedings. That’s when it really got bad. I had intense stress, put on no weight until my 8th month, she was 10 days overdue and still a bit underweight.

But she is the light of my life. My oldest is extremely troubled, and if it weren’t for my second, I’d think I was a complete failure. Because of her, I know I’m just largely irrelevant. Kids come with their own personality. She is a rock, and without her my oldest wouldn’t cope nearly so well.

Every child is different. Just when you think you have no room in your life for another, your life expands and you know you’d have a huge hole without them. I’m so glad I didn’t stop with one, if for no other reason than they need each other.