Why big families really are the
best
by Amanda Foreman
Amanda Foreman with her children Helena,
Halcyon and Theodore
Historian Amanda Foreman had just published her best-selling
biography of the Duchess of Devonshire, when she met
her husband. Now the couple have three children with
another two on the way. Here she explains why she's convinced
that big families are best:
My drawing room contains a beautiful photo of a naked
woman posing behind a huge column of books.
Blonde, slim and immaculately groomed, she's looking at
the camera with a smile on her face that says: "I've got
the world at my feet."
I look at that photo now and I laugh. Was that woman really
me? After three children - and with twins arriving in June
- there's no way I would dare strike that same pose now.
My hair may still be blonde but by the time I've bathed
three children and brushed three sets of teeth, personal
grooming is really the last thing on my mind.
But there's another much more fundamental difference.
Back then with my book top of the bestseller charts, courted
by editors and TV companies, I thought I had it all. Certainly,
that's what everyone told me. Now I know that it's impossible
to have it all. Instead I've got what I really want - a
wonderful happy marriage and five children.
At a time when over 80 per cent of British families have
no more than two children I've completely bucked the trend.
And in doing so I've come to believe that having a big
family is so much better. In fact I'm convinced that the
bigger the family, the happier it is. So why is it that
women today feel so browbeaten into sticking with the 'normal'
two when it is not necessarily best for them - and certainly
not for society?
Children in large families have so many benefits. They
always seem more relaxed around each other, more confident
and independent because they do not have such an intense
focus from their parents as only children or those with
only one sibling.
Those with lots of siblings learn so much from each other
- how to share everything from toys to their parents' attention.
Through the rough and tumble of family life they learn
how to negotiate and compromise. They grow up knowing they
are not the centre of the universe - which can only be
healthy. In times of trouble, they always have each other
to lean on.
Smaller families' parents meanwhile are inclined to be
so much more intense, loading their standard two children
with all their own dreams and desires - mini me's if you
like. Because they've only two chances to 'get it right'
they're much more likely to push their children to conform.
There's this unhealthy desperation for their children
to succeed. Failure just isn't an option. Their children
have to go to the right school, follow the right hobbies
to get ahead - I know little girls in my daughter Helena's
class who are already studying chess aged four, for heaven's
sake. It's all too much.
On the other hand, parents of large families are usually
so much more relaxed and less pushy - giving their children
space to develop their own interests and talents. Quite
simply, when you have a big family, you are less likely
to have the time, energy or money to hothouse your children,
let alone the inclination.
Instead, children in large families are often to be found
racing around the garden to let off steam rather than hunched
over a chess set. These children get the priceless gifts
- independence and the freedom to discover their own interests
at their own pace. Plus a real childhood - not one where
they are hothoused to distraction but where they actually
get to play.
Nor, crucially, are they burdened with all their parents'
hopes and dreams. Their parents are too busy looking at
the big picture.
And yet, as a society, Britain is so negative about big
families. It's extraordinary how cultural attitudes over
the past few decades have influenced something so personal
as the number of children we have.
Women have been encouraged to think they should liberate
themselves from childcare and return to work as quickly
as possible. As a result, having a maximum of two children
has become the norm. Beyond that it becomes incredibly
tough to juggle work and family. But it's not just this.
The hurdles to having a large family in Britain are myriad.
The tax system favours small families. For example, child
benefit is on a falling scale depending on how many children
you have - unlike in France where couples are rewarded
for having children. Modern living is geared around
two children - from the housing industry which churns
out three bedders to the car industry which thinks a sixseater
car is a luxury model.
Why must we assume that two is the ideal number?
Of course having so many children is exhausting. I sometimes
think I will spontaneously combust with fatigue and stress.
Not to mention my career which has ended up very much on
the back-burner. Some people may wonder why on earth I've
made so many personal and financial sacrifices - we won't
be going on any beach holidays any time soon. But the fact
is that I've never felt happier or more fulfilled.
Not that I ever imagined I would be in this situation
when that famous photo of me was taken for the February
1999 edition of Tatler magazine. It caused a huge furore
at the time.
Aged 29, my biography of Georgiana, the racy Duchess of
Devonshire who stunned 18th century Britain with her wit,
beauty and scandalous affairs, had just been published
in a blaze of publicity. I won the Whitbread Prize for
Best Biography and was courted by editors and TV producers.
I'd spent the previous seven years as a graduate student
at Lady Margaret Hall College, Oxford. My thesis was the
basis of my book. Working ten hours days, six days a week
was solitary, badly paid and extremely unglamorous. So
I emerged blinking into the spotlight.
For two entire years my feet didn't touch the ground.
There was a TV documentary and a radio play starring Judi
Dench. I discovered the joys of Harvey Nichols, of fabulous
restaurants and first class travel. And then something
totally unexpected happened.
I fell in love. I'd never believed I'd get married. I
was so work-focused that friends teased me that I'd remain
a lonely blue stocking. And as for having children - well
babies simply didn't figure in my solitary, academic life.
But then I found myself sitting next to Jonathan at a dinner
party.
We stalwartly ignored each other until dessert - a sublime
cheesecake. Saucily I offered him some from my plate. The
moment his lips touched my fork we both knew it was love.
That was September 1998. We married at London's Victoria & Albert
Museum in June 2000.
By then I had begun research on a new book: tracing the
stories of Britons caught up in the American Civil War.
My editor describes it as a cross between Gone With The
Wind and War And Peace. My publishers, Harper and Collins,
urged me to finish it - to capitalise on the success of
Georgiana.
However, I was 33 and Jonathan and I wanted a baby. In
fact we knew already that we wanted lots of them. Jonathan
is one of four children and I'd spent my childhood fantasising
about belonging to a huge, rumbustious family instead of
having just one brother. I'd soaked up films such as The
Railway Children where broods of children roam the countryside
having amazing adventures.
I'm very close to my brother Jonathan, two years older
than me. Our father, the Hollywood script writer Carl Foreman
- the man behind classics such as High Noon and The Guns
Of Navarone - died of cancer when I was 15.
Jonathan and I have always been extremely close - never
more so than when Dad died. We leaned on each other and
it brought home just how much you need siblings.
And so, aged 33, I visited my doctor. His words sent a
chill through me. "You can't wait much longer and be sure
of having children." When I explained about my career,
he was blunt. "You can still be writing at 80. But you're
only fertile for the next ten years."
I was fortunate. I realise many women leave having their
first child too late - and then simply don't have the option
to have a large family. Naively, however, I still assumed
that I could produce both babies and books with equal speed
and efficiency.
After all, hadn't society brought me up to believe I could
do it all? I vividly remember my reaction in the late 1980s
to reading a brave article by a woman explaining that women
could either reach the top at work or have children. They
couldn't do both.
"Why ever not?" I huffed. Stories abounded of top barristers
and bankers who had a baby one afternoon and were back
at their desks four days later. Now I shudder at the agony
they must have been putting themselves through. But, at
the time, I took it all as gospel.
On April 2, 2002 our sunny natured little Helena arrived.
The second she was put in my arms, I fell totally in love.
Gazing in adoration at this vulnerable little creature,
I knew every ounce of my happiness and sense of fulfilment
was bound up in her and always would be. I've never felt
more ecstatic - nor more vulnerable.
Back home, I struggled to get used to my new life. In
the old days I'd started work at 7am and often still been
at my desk at 10pm when Jonathan, who works extremely long
hours, came home.
Now whole days passed in a blur of nappy changing and
feeding. I was exhausted and often frustrated by my incompetence.
But I was happy. I'd told my editors I was taking three
months off. I hired a nanny - a wonderful girl, Caroline,
who's still with us. And then the day arrived for me to
start work.
It took me exactly 20 minutes to realise it was impossible
to work full time. I heard Helena cry and instantly I melted.
I might have hired a nanny but I hadn't given Helena up
for adoption. So I explained to my publisher, HarperCollins,
that my book might take a lot longer than expected. They
were disappointed but understanding.
In September 2003 - 17 months after Helena was born -
our son Theo arrived. Then, in June 2005, our daughter
Halcyon. In June I am expecting twins. We will be a family
of seven. And I know then - and only then - our family
will be complete.
With every child, finding the time and energy to write
has become harder and completing my second book looks ever
further away. With so many children there are endless crises
and dramas.
I have lists everywhere and a huge chart on the wall recording
which child is supposed to be where, when. Jonathan is
a very hands on, devoted father but since he has to work
extremely long hours in an office and I work from home,
inevitably most things fall to me during the week. It's
not sexism. It's life.
Most people think we're utterly crazy to have such a huge
family. And strangers invariably regard us as freaks. We
took the children to a restaurant recently. When the waiter
realised we didn't just have three children (taking up
every single high chair in the entire restaurant) but I
was actually pregnant, he shot me the most pitying glance.
Did I care? Of course not. Strangely, the more children
I've had, the more relaxed I've become. I know I probably
don't do anything to the level I should but being a good
enough mum is absolutely fine.
Meanwhile my next book is still progressing slowly. I
have written 250,000 words and hope it will be ready for
publication in late 2008.
Until then I will be busy enjoying every moment of my
children's lives. Today, as every day, Jonathan and I woke
the children at 7am. There were excited squeals as they
rushed into our bedroom and we all piled into bed together
for a cuddle and a chat. It's become our routine - and
the most glorious moment in my day.
It may be chaotic and noisy but I wouldn't swop it for
an orderly breakfast with two children for the world.
