My older sister (a mother of four with twins on the way) and I often talk about motherhood, and how hard the days are to be a lonely mother with one child. She always insists that it does get easier the more children you have, but I’ve never really believed her until I read this article (totally worth a read for all you mothers of one!).

But I don’t know, perhaps you can relate to me.

My days are spent sitting on the couch or floor, lonely and friend-less, piecing the door back onto the toy schoolbus for the eighth time that morning. I’m bored out of my mind, trying to come up with anything besides cleaning the kitchen and folding the laundry to keep myself occupied.

Most days I don’t have any conversations with someone who speaks English (instead of gibberish) until my husband comes home in the evening. Four out of five days of the week I don’t have a car, and if I did I’d probably just roam mindlessly around Target making purchases we don’t need and talking the cashier’s ear off.

Some days we go to the zoo, but won’t you admit it’s kind of pathetic walking around, just me and a baby? I must look ridiculous pointing at the elephants and clapping my hands, doing a little dance to get my toddler excited. Who am I kidding? He thinks those are just giant rocks out there on the lawn.

Many days I eagerly await naptime, only to find that I’m still lacking the supplies to make the one craft I’ve been drooling over on Pinterest. And an hour into naptime, I find myself lonely and wishing said baby would wake up again to play. But who am I kidding? Half an hour after he’s up I’m lost in baby talk and wishing I had taken a nap too. Don’t they tell you to “sleep when the baby sleeps”?

I took several things for granted before baby life. I can’t go to the bathroom in peace anymore. I can’t run into the bedroom to grab something really quick. He knows, and I get little hands knocking and jiggling at the door handle, whining to be let in. Where did my privacy go?

Most days I worry too much. I won’t even shower without Jack safely in his crib. I had a nightmare the other night that someone broke into our house and cut off my baby’s little limbs. I woke up crying and grabbing onto a sleepy husband for comfort as he assured me everything was fine. Husband has dreams about being Jack Bauer from 24. I on the other hand get nightmares delivered in my sleep about my child being slaughtered by a stranger in our house.

This isn’t a sob story about “how hard my life is”. I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m complaining (although we’re all allowed a little venting here and there, right?) I just want to know: does it really get easier with more kids?