While reading the morning paper the other day I was saddened to hear about the death of a person I had never met. This was no actress or pop star but, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, the world's most prolific (if that is the right word) mother. The lady from Chile had given birth to 55 (yes, 55!) children. That's not possible, I thought as I read on to discover that this included nine sets of triplets and 11 pairs of twins. Oddly, this fact wasn't in the least bit comforting.

I thought back to my own early attempts at motherhood. The sleepless nights, the incessant crying, the discomfort and pain. And that was just the pregnancy. And returning home from hospital looking as large as I did going in wasn't such a thrill either. Though the former occupant of my body nestled cosily in his car seat next to me as if nothing untoward had happened, I vowed to never ever go through that again. Well, not until next time anyway. But imagine going through it again. And again. And again?

When I was little I had romantic notions that it might be quite good fun to be a member of a large family. As the only girl in the family, with two younger brothers that much later included another baby brother, I thought it would be wonderful to have a sister. A permanent best friend to share clothes and make-up and problems with. And to have lots and lots of sisters would be even better. We'd all sleep in a big room full of beds like a dormitory and never be lonely.

I suppose I'd been watching too many programmes like The Waltons and films like Little Women and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. In real life coming from a big family might not be that much fun. I remember a friend, a Catholic from a large family, who, on her first day of college, saw her room in the hall of residence and burst into tears. "What's the matter?" everyone asked, thinking perhaps that the room was a bit basic and maybe she was used to living in the lap of luxury or maybe she was homesick. "It's not that," she spluttered eventually, "it's just that I can't believe that I'm finally going to get a bed for myself. All my life I've had to sleep with my three sisters."

Later on she went into raptures at the sight of a Pot Noodle. "I've never had one before," she confessed. "My mother couldn't afford 11, one for each of us."

But there is more to life than Pot Noodle. Some of the world's most successful people hail from large families where they have learned to develop skills such as resourcefulness, imagination and creativity. And standing out from the crowd. The singer Madonna always put her success down to having come from a large brood where she had to hone self-expression skills in order to get attention.

Meanwhile, my only child is hanging from the banisters having thrown the laundry basket down the stairs and emptied a dustbin over himself.

Hmm, on the other hand, there is a lot to be said for small families, too.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.