A Camping Trip With My Only Child—and My Quiet Worry
This past weekend, my husband, daughter, and I went camping with my in-laws. I had been really looking forward to it—my husband actually won a lottery to reserve our spot at Steep Ravine.
Steep Ravine is along the Northern California coast, and the cabins are like fortified tents with walls. No electricity, no bathrooms, no mattresses. We packed our flashlights, camping oven, and sleeping bags.
Even though I was excited, I couldn’t help but wonder if my daughter would be lonely—a thought that’s come up here and there as we’ve been navigating secondary infertility.
She loves the outdoors and has been camping before. Just last month, we went on a trip with my sisters, their husbands, their kids, and some friends and their kids. She had the best time playing with her “cuzzies” in the dirt, using walkie-talkies to “call” each other, and staying up late making s’mores by the fire.
So this trip felt… different.
At Steep Ravine, it would just be me, my husband, my daughter, and her grandparents.
Before we left, I made sure to tell her that. I wanted to prep her so she would know what to expect.
Still, I wondered—would she be bored? Would she miss her cousins? Would she wish this trip looked more like the last one?
Then Something Unexpected Happened on Our Family Camping Trip
On Saturday morning, the three of us went on a hike while grandma and grandpa stayed back at the cabin.
While we were on the trail, we ran into a dad and his daughter. They were friendly, and the dad mentioned they were also staying at Steep Ravine. He even recognized my daughter from the night before—he remembered her jacket. We chatted for a bit and then went on our way.
When we got back, my husband made tuna sandwiches for lunch. As we were eating, we noticed a family moving into the cabin next to ours.
Another family of three.
I could see my daughter watching them through the window. She even popped her head out and waved hi, and kept asking to go outside.
It didn’t take long before she found her moment. On our way to the restroom (which, I think, was just her excuse), she introduced herself to the mom and daughter next door.
After we got back, she convinced her grandpa to take her on a “walk”—except it wasn’t really a walk. She led him straight to the neighbor’s cabin.
Then, not long after, the girl we met on the hiking trail showed up with her dad.
And just like that, the three girls were playing together.
My daughter is 6, and the other girls are 7 and 8. They clicked instantly.
They played all afternoon, and then again the next morning. It was like they had known each other forever.
Only Child Stereotypes That Didn’t Hold Up on This Trip
As I watched them, I couldn’t help but smile.
I felt so proud of my daughter—and honestly, all three of them—for how easily they connected, how comfortable they were, and how quickly they formed their own little world.
Because of my daughter, I ended up spending the afternoon outside too, talking with the other parents.
There’s this common assumption that only children struggle socially, don’t know how to interact with others, and are “lonely” (I wrote about the myth of being an only child—you can read that post here).
But what I saw that day was the opposite.
The girls were comfortable with one another and didn’t need any of us to get them to talk.
They played in the dirt, drew pictures, ran around the cabins, sang, and danced—just like my daughter had done with her cousins the month before.
Seeing Other Families of Three Made Me Feel Less Alone
Something else stood out to me that I didn’t expect.
It felt really refreshing to be around families that looked like mine.
The other parents were a bit older than us, and they seemed genuinely happy and content with their families as they were.
At one point, my father-in-law asked them if they were planning to have more kids. Both families said no.
Where I live, having multiple kids feels like the norm. Being a family of three doesn’t always feel common.
I’ve read about families like ours before—back when I used to scroll through Reddit, trying to find reassurance about how families of three turn out.
But this was different.
This was real life. A chance encounter with not one, but two families who looked like us.
And it made me realize something:
Sometimes you don’t even know you’ve been craving representation until you see it.
In a way, I felt validated. I’ve always felt like my family was complete with the three of us, but seeing these older couples was like seeing a glimpse into the future.
What This Camping Trip Taught Me About Being a Family of Three
Watching my daughter play with her new friends that weekend also gave me a sense of comfort.
All those worries I had—about her being lonely, about her missing out, and about whether she would know how to connect with others—started to fade.
Because the truth is, she’s going to be okay.
She is okay.
More than anything, this weekend reminded me that our family is enough, exactly as it is.
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