Why 4 years is the perfect age gap (for me)

If there’s one thing I know about motherhood, it’s that having a child who can wipe their own bum and put pyjamas on unaided makes it a hell of a lot easier to introduce a newborn into the mix.

That’s why I was happy to play the long game and leave four years between my first and second child, even as most parents around me leapt into action for the usual two to two-and-a-half year age gap.

Of course, I was very lucky to have a choice when it came to the exact timing of my kids. For lots of women I know, it’s a case of if not when the second sibling will appear, so I’m well aware that it’s a position of extreme luxury to be able to ponder the ideal age gap between your children.

I have, however, spoken to quite a few pregnant women who’ve told me that, due to various fertility issues, they’ve ended up with a much larger age gap than anticipated. It’s a source of much sadness and guilt, as they worry the children will not be as close when they grow up, or that it will be an awful shock for the older one when a baby comes along after such a long period of being an only child.

To these women I always say the same thing: that choosing a four-year age gap between my kids is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. That’s not to say it’s right for everyone, but even as the second sibling wave was crashing around my ears I just knew that the chaos of #2under2 or even #2under3 that other parents thrive on would not work out well for me.

There’s a lot to be said for bigger age gaps, even though they’re surprisingly unpopular (the average age gap in the UK is two years and four months, according to the most recent census). Far from being outraged, my four year old daughter has adapted extremely well to her new “cutie baby”, and I think that’s partly because of the big age gap - rather than feeling jealous of a rival, she sees him as a sort of joint pet that we all look after together. She’s also super helpful with the day-to-day baby maintenance; I can always ask her to fetch baby wipes, sing to him on grumpy days or find his missing sun hat when we’re in a rush. She’s pretty good at “here comes the aeroplane” style spoon-feeding, and can be trusted not to drown herself in the bath while I get the younger one out to be dried and dressed.

When you’re dealing with the full-on needs of a baby, it’s a huge bonus having an older child who can feed themselves, go to the loo alone and reliably sleep through the night. While my older daughter is far from easy-peasy, she does at least have some common sense, can be reasoned with and crucially, bribed in to good behaviour. There’s also the not insignificant fact that I’ll never have to pay two sets of nursery fees at once.

Obviously there are downsides to a larger age gap too. Unlike closer-together siblings, I can’t send the two kids off to play together, which means my daughter still wants lots of entertainment. While I’ll swerve double nursery costs, the price I’ll pay is two separate drop-offs and pick-ups every day, which is a serious logistical juggle. I’ve also massively extended the length of my Peppa-Pig-and-playground years, which is why many parents I know have small age gaps to “get it over with” - “it” being the sleepless night/nappy changing/screamy stage of parenting. Again, I think this approach works well for those with a high chaos threshold, but mine is pretty low.

One unexpected upside to having a big age gap is how much more I appreciate the very baby-ness of my second child (I can’t think of a better word right now, after being woken up at 5.25am). The first time I had a newborn, my life could’ve been soundtracked by Daniel Bedingfield’s Gotta Get Thru This on repeat, largely because I had a new baby in an unprecedented national lockdown and didn’t have a clue what I was doing. By the time the second baby came along, however, my older daughter had already transformed from prawn-shaped screamy thing, through the toddler mayhem and into walking-talking human child. It happened so fast that I’m now ridiculously soppy about the blink-and-you-miss-it baby stage, and because there’s no toddler smacking me in the face with Duplo, I have the headspace to enjoy it.

Throughout this ramble, you’ll notice I’ve been at pains to stress that I’m talking about a personal preference, and not some all-encompassing life rule that I believe everyone should follow. This is not because I’m a simpering people-pleaser, I promise, but more because I’ve noticed a tendency for thirty-somethings to make big life decisions, then feel compelled to defend and big up these choices up like their lives depend on it. In reality, most decisions about your family and lifestyle set-up are a balance of pros and cons, whether that’s where you live, how many kids you have or indeed the age gap between them. I hope anyone reading this who has ended up with a big age gap, whether through choice or not, is reassured that it can come with big advantages. And if you’re at the other end of the scale with back-to-back bubbas - well, I take my hat off to you.

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