My dad in his early years was a Merchant Navy man who was torpedoed three times during the second world war. I don't know whether you would like to be on the same ship with him during those war days?
He would share tales of how before the ship got hit they would hear the sound of the torpedo heading towards them before the fatal collision. Resulting in days in a lifeboat set adrift on the tossing waves of the Atlantic before they were rescued and taken to Nova Scotia, Canada. He spent six months there lodging with a family.
As children, we would always know when we were about to receive a new addition to the family because my mother's tummy would begin to swell and then the annual visit from the midwife. We would hear the baby cry, and then the midwife would shout excitedly it's a boy! It's a boy! The midwife became part of the family. My mum gave birth to all of her children at home except the last one Diane; she was born in the hospital.
I don't regret being part of a large family with its positives and negatives. You never are spoilt for choice when you need someone to play with.