I have an only child. It's none of your business why.

• I'm the mom of an only child.
• People always like to comment on why I have just one, saying things like he's spoiled.

I have one child.

And for some reason, that fact tends to set aside conversational decorum. You name it, I’ve heard it. “Oh, the spoiled only!” “He’s your golden boy.” And once from a medical professional during a consultation: “Are you sure you don’t want another one?” Behind every question or comment, the shade is searing. How dare I not give my child a sibling?

The simple answer: it’s none of your business. But here’s the longer version.

I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome

My husband and I advanced our careers and grew as a couple before welcoming a new person into our family. After we’d been married five years, I found out I was pregnant. We were thrilled.

I was simultaneously awed and freaked out by my body’s metamorphosis. Once morning sickness subsided, cravings kicked in, and all was well at first.

But in my second trimester, each sip of water I took seemed to stay in my system, inflating me like a balloon. My tests were normal; my doctor wasn’t overly concerned. But my mother — a registered nurse — suspected something was very wrong. She begged me to stay on top of my blood pressure, but it stayed in the normal range.

Turns out, I had what’s known as HELLP syndrome. I got the rare diagnosis during a scheduled induction the day after my son’s due date. HELLP is a dangerous and sometimes deadly pregnancy complication that can lead to hemorrhage, seizures, and liver failure. The only remedy is for the baby to be born as soon as possible.

The delivery was scary

I had always planned for pain remediation, but my doctor explained to me and my husband that an epidural was impossible. My blood platelets were now dangerously low, and a spinal injection might cause spinal hemorrhaging and paralysis.

The rest is mostly a blotted-out blur to me, but after 15 hours, my baby boy arrived. Only after the fact could I fully comprehend how scary his birth really was. Every day, I’m grateful I made it through and that my son was born at term and healthy.

Later, my doctor advised me that I was at an increased risk of HELLP should I become pregnant again. I was not a risk my husband or I wanted to take.

He's OK being an only child

It’s been the honor of a lifetime to raise my child. Once he was old enough to fully understand his birth story, he accepted his “only” status without quibble or question. He’s never expressed sorrow or regret that he lacks a sibling, and studies show common myths about maladjustment or selfishness in single children are just that: myths.

Several years after his birth, there was a barrage of inquiries, most along the lines of “When will you try for another?” Now that I’ll soon be an empty nester, I field them again.

Sometimes, I gently recount to them the circumstances of my son’s birth and that I chose not to risk another pregnancy to ensure I was around for the child I had. If I’m especially annoyed, I retort that having my only child nearly killed me. That tends to end the conversation.

Raising kids, or even just one, is hard. The choices we make to get them here, keep them here, and prepare them for launch are deeply personal, no matter how many we have.

Let’s extend some empathy and think before asking irrelevant, invasive questions about choices that are not our own. It might benefit all of us as we fumble through this thing called parenthood.