I can honestly state that I have no favorite child.
I wouldn’t say I love all five of them equally, because I don’t think that’s possible. I love each one for who they are. There are four boys and one girl.
I’m a big believer in the influence of birth order. And my kids are proof that the birth order stereotypes can be true.
I have a different relationship with each of my children
My oldest has definitely assumed the role of leader, especially after my kids’ father moved out. When he was 2, a caregiver supervising the toddlers in my mother’s group asked if he was an only child. Apparently, he wasn’t good at sharing. He learned to share when, after two miscarriages, I gave birth to his brother. He became a doting sibling and, from that day forward, oversaw the well-being of all the children in the house.
Very soon after my 2nd son’s birth, I became pregnant again, so this child was 2 when his brother was born. I felt guilty for diverting time from him to care for the newborn, but perhaps that’s why he’s always been my most self-sufficient, content to spend his time on solo adventures.
Personality-wise, my 3rd son is most like me. We tend to lead with our emotions. He’s also the family connector, working hard to sustain all our relationships.
Adoption changed the family dynamic
My daughter joined us as a 6-month-old foster child. We’d been doing foster care for a few years with several children cycling in and out of our family before she arrived. I have to commend my boys for controlling the daily chaos of our expanded family. My oldest would organize games after dinner and keep everyone’s excess energy in check. All three shared their rooms, their toys, and me without complaint, which was essential at the time.
It took over nine years to complete my daughter’s adoption, but even before it was finalized, the boys seamlessly accepted her as a sister. When she was in kindergarten, she started begging for a baby. She wanted a sister to balance the household’s male energy. I gave her another brother.
My oldest and my youngest share a birthday, 16 years apart
My youngest son was born on his oldest brother’s 16th birthday. His other siblings were 13, 11, and 7 years old. This age gap meant that, for most of his life, my youngest lived as an only child.
I was probably at my most confident in raising him, having already ushered the others into adolescence and beyond. Most of his elementary school friends were first children with mothers who panicked about everything.
While his brothers and sister learned to drive, applied to college, and ultimately moved out to experience adulting, he and I built a partnership as our own mini unit within the bigger family.
I shifted from home-based work to an outside job when he was in 4th grade. It was at the new school that my daughter attended. When I added hours the next year, he joined me, skipping 5th grade and enrolling in 6th, so he did not have to attend an after-school program in our hometown, 45 minutes away.
Maybe I am most connected to my youngest
He was close to two years younger than most of his male classmates, which concerned me when it came time for high school. We switched schools for 8th grade so he could repeat without embarrassment, and then again for high school, before making a cross-country move together that reunited us with his older siblings, who had preceded us westward. Each time I worked at the school, he attended.
When this youngest son moved out for college, I found myself living alone for the first time in 34 years. He’s 28 now and married, and the only one of my children who still lives nearby. I toy with the idea of moving closer to my other kids, especially my 2nd son, who’s the father of my grandchildren, but I’m having a hard time detaching. Maybe it’s because we experienced so many monumental moments together. Or maybe it’s because he was the last of my children and kept me tethered to the role of mother for the longest time.
Is that why he’s still on my cellphone plan? I’m not ready to kick him off. It’s not that he can’t afford the service. No, I continue to keep him on my plan because it’s one way for me to maintain the role I cherish — mother.
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