Alison Curtis: One of my deepest worries was dispelled by my six-year-old

'Single children have always been presented to us as lonely and needy. This is a farce. They are so loved, so encouraged, and find close bonds elsewhere in life'

'It became such a huge focus for me, the never-ending thought process: How could I face another pregnancy?' Picture: Marc O'Sullivan

A few times in this column I have talked about the guilt, acceptance and celebration of a family of three. When we had our daughter Joan there was huge trauma around her arrival. Joan thankfully arrived safely despite me suffering an abruption and pre-eclampsia — but I was in a bit “of trouble” for nearly two weeks after she arrived.

Despite constant medical checks, being in high dependency, and being discharged on 14 tablets a day, I almost immediately started putting pressure on myself to have another child.

I remember so clearly a conversation with an incredibly kind midwife who said to me: “Don’t you worry, I will see you back here in two years' time!”

It became such a huge focus for me, the never-ending thought process: How could I face another pregnancy? How could I go through it all again? But I have to — Joan needed a sibling, right?

Families in Ireland are huge, and everyone loves a sibling. I love my twin like nothing else. I wanted to give Joan this person to love as much as I love my sister.

A brother or sister is a built-in buddy. Someone who travels through life with you with a common experience. They are the only ones who know exactly what you know. An unbreakable bond.

Single children have always been presented to us as lonely and needy. I had to speak to grown solo kids to learn that, of course, this is a farce. They are so loved, so encouraged, and find those close bonds elsewhere in life.

Admittedly, for Joan’s first six years I constantly had the conversation with myself and my husband about getting pregnant again, that we really should have another child. I put an unhappy amount of pressure on myself.

I am ashamed to admit that each time I heard the news of a friend having their second child, I would have a sinking disappointment. I knew deep down inside of me I couldn’t face it again.

Around Joan’s sixth birthday, something switched. I realised how insanely lucky I was to have this wonderful, kind, sweet and funny little person in my life. I never ever took Joan for granted, not once — but I needed to appreciate that my husband and I already had so much. We had something that tragically so many couples want.

Then, out of the blue one morning before school, Joan said: “Mommy, we are a triangle family. We are the strongest shape there is!”

I was floored. I kept saying it over and over again. We are a triangle family. I wrote about it and spoke about it on my show and so many people got in touch to tell me about their triangle families too.

Fast forward to last week and after a very, very long time of thinking about and wanting a tattoo, I finally cemented our triangle family into something I will always treasure. I got a tattoo of three interlocking triangles on my left wrist. I picked my left because both my husband and daughter are lefties and I love it.

I love what it means, I love how it looks and, most of all, I love that it was entirely inspired by something my favourite person in the world said when she was only six. We are a triangle family, and it is the strongest shape in the world.

There is no need to feel guilt or jealously about the numbers in other families. Families after all come in all shapes and sizes and should always be celebrated. We are a triangle; we are three and we are totally in love with one another.