One-and-Done - Part Deux: The Letting Go
I had considered writing a new editorial for this Mother’s Day issue. But instead, I’m choosing to share this one from last year.
While many of the stories in these pages celebrate the beauty, the joy, and the fullness of motherhood, I felt compelled to begin this piece with something we don’t talk about enough: the letting go.
Since writing the article below, my son has left home to build his life in California. And while I am deeply proud of the man he’s become, nothing prepared me for what that moment would actually feel like.
It felt like a break-up.
A quiet, disorienting kind of loss that comes when the person who once needed you for everything no longer needs you in the same way.
On my flight back from California, I cried THE ENTIRE WAY - like ugly crying! I didn’t sleep for days. I couldn’t walk past his room without my eyes filling up. The silence was louder than I expected. The absence, heavier.
We spend years pouring into our children, loving them, shaping them, equipping them to go out into the world and build a life of their own. And when they finally do exactly that… no one talks about what it costs you as a mother. The emptiness.
The constant worry that never fully leaves. The shift in identity when you’re no longer needed in the same way. And yet, this is the goal! To raise a child strong enough, capable enough, confident enough to leave. There is pride in that. But there is also grief. Both can exist at the same time.
So before you read this piece, written in a different season, know this: everything I wrote then is still true. But there is another chapter to motherhood that quietly follows.
The letting go.
One-and-Done: My Love Story
Written on April 22, 2025
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine wrote a Facebook post that touched me deeply. She shared her journey as a “one-and-done” mama—the conscious choice to have just one child. Her words resonated with me profoundly, not only because I made the same decision, but because her reasons echoed the emotional landscape I’ve walked for over two decades.
Like my friend Tania, I am also the proud mother of one incredible child. While she attributes her decision to a clear understanding of her limits—emotionally, physically, spiritually, and professionally—for me, the story is a little different. I became a mother in the context of a loveless marriage, and although I sometimes wish I had met my present husband earlier in life, so we could’ve had more children together, I don’t regret having just the one. Not for a second!
What I do cherish is the presence I’ve been able to offer my son. The closeness we’ve cultivated is something I wouldn’t trade for the world. Even now, with him at 23, we’re the best of friends. He’s my favourite travel partner, and—perhaps most importantly—my fiercest fashion advisor. We’ve grown together, side by side. He’s seen me through joy and heartbreak, through rebuilding and reinvention. And I’ve had the privilege of watching him become a remarkable human being.
Motherhood, as many of us know, is expansive. It demands so much of us—financially, emotionally, and energetically. For me, there was no balancing act between a partner and a child. That decision had already been made. My marriage was broken, but in that brokenness, I found clarity. I poured everything I had into raising my son. He became my focus, my anchor, and my inspiration.
I have immense respect for women who navigate the complexities of raising multiple children while juggling careers, relationships, and personal dreams. But I knew my path was going to be different. I had aspirations too—I wanted to build something of my own, and I had a lot to prove, mostly to myself. My son, Chris, grew up in the wings of that journey. He watched me build my business, fight for what I believed in, and persist in the face of uncertainty. He learned about resilience not from lectures, but from living it alongside me.
Of course, there are things he missed out on—siblings to fight with, confide in, or team up with on family road trips. But what he gained was time, undivided attention, and an emotional intimacy that’s hard to come by in larger families. He saw me dream big and chase those dreams. Today, he’s an accomplished young entrepreneur himself. And I can say, without hesitation, that he knows he is loved—fiercely, unconditionally, and endlessly. He sees (in action) that I’m his biggest fan, that there’s nothing he can do to change the way I love him unconditionally. That’s my legacy.
There’s a book that helps to better understand and appreciate this path: One and Only: The Freedom of Having an Only Child, and the Joy of Being One by Lauren Sandler. In it, Sandler explores the stigma around raising only children and debunks the long-held myths that “only” means “lonely.” Her reflections validated what I had long suspected: having one child doesn’t mean giving them less—it can mean giving them more; much, much more!
Like Tania, I believe that because I was grounded in who I was—and committed to becoming the mother my son deserved—I raised an extraordinary person. And that, truly, is enough.
Being a one-and-done mama isn’t about lack. It’s about intention. It’s about choosing presence over pressure, and depth over duplication. And in the end, it’s about love—the kind that is whole, constant, and unconditional.
