My husband is an only child, the product of many years of fasting and praying, the child carried almost-full-term after several miscarriages. According to Neylan McBaine, in her Spring 2008 essay “Just Mom, Dad, and me,” there’s a lot to envy about the only-child lifestyle: besides material advantages, she always had the awareness that she “was the legacy, the Samuel to my mom’s Hannah, the summation of her hopes and dreams. I grew up knowing I was that special.”
While Neylan begins by discussing the advantages of being an only child, she ends with the poignant realization that she is alone in caring for her ailing parents. And she’s grateful that her children have siblings, have a set of shared memories.
I have always had the same sense about my husband: he is the Samuel to his mother’s Hannah. And with that role comes responsibility. There are no other siblings to share the memories of his mother, who died four years ago. There are no other siblings to help care for his father. It’s just us. And while that prospect was daunting to me as a newlywed, I’ve grown into the role, and I am deeply grateful for it.
Still, I contrast my husband’s only child status with my parents, both of whom come from large families. In the past year both my grandmothers have suffered serious health problems, and in both cases, the siblings have rallied around, each person contributing to their care as much as their circumstances allowed. It’s a tender time. Both my grandmothers wish to be released from this life. And both of them have been blessed by all the children who love them, whose shared memories bring them together in the service of their parents.
Sometimes there is strength in numbers.
Read “Just Mom, Dad, and Me.” And tell me about your experience as an only child. Or about your only child envy. Or about how you’ve worked with your siblings to create something meaningful (that President Uchtdorf talk is popping up in all my thoughts now! is there anything more creative or compassionate than to create a blessed passing for your parents?)
My beautiful, mature, and wonderful cousin is an only child. At her recent wedding, it was joked that this would be my uncle and aunt’s “first and last wedding!” There was laughter, but there were a lot of tears, too. Because she had no siblings, and most of her cousins lived far away, her friends became her psuedo-siblings. For years she begged her parents for siblings and now she has 16! Her new husband is the youngest of 9 (or was it 8?) children, and the last to get married. All her dreams of a big family have come true.
Even though I would never trade my siblings for the world (and am grateful my children and my husband have siblings), I kind of envied her life. Vacations were often and easily attained; they attended every wedding, blessing, baptism, funeral, etc. because 3 schedules were easily worked out. She didn’t have to share after-school activity time with anyone; she could try any activity she wanted to try! She didn’t have to leave home to attend college; no one tried to take over her room. There was no sibling rivalry and she had lots of attention.
But she was lonely. And she had to do all the chores!
Ah, but seriously, I don’t know how it would be to have an only child or be an only child. My husband is the only son of an only son (although there were sisters), and I was so relieved to have 2 sons to “carry on the family name!” Is that weird? Ah, well.
I am the only child, and grew up knowing that even I was not planned. A welcome surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. I often feel the worry and burden of caring for my parents, and that is a major reason we decided to have more than one child (my DH and I). But we are done at only two. There is a big difference in my tolerance level for noise, acitivity, and day-to-day routines coming from such a small family, compared to what it would be for someone who comes from a large family. I had a wonderful childhood, and as much as I had struggles and a “story” just like everyone else does, and just like hopefully everyone else, I grew up knowing that I was loved, special, and had the attention I needed. Was I spoiled? Sure. Especially since my parents divorced, there was quite a lot of “guilt gifting” form my father, who I did not live with. There were tons of vacations, tons of memories of things I did that were cute or funny, those stories being told over and over because they were the only stories like it. While I think having only one child has its advantages, it has its down sides too. But so does having more than three or four children. Comparing the situations is futile, to me, because I didn’t know any different. I never felt lonely. I alsways had lots of friends, and they were always at my house at sleepovers, etc, etc. I never knew I was spoiled until I grew up and got a dose of reality. When my father is gone, when my aunt is gone, I will be one of only three grandchildren from my paternal grandfather’s line. That is sad to me, but it is what it is. We have a small family, but we lead great lives.
I agree with Mellocello that comparing situations can be futile. So often with things like this, people are making the best of situations they may not have chosen. I know there are people who consciously choose to have only one child, but most of the people I know in that situation did not choose it.
I think we have to find the great things about whatever our situation is rather than dwelling on what we don’t have, whether we’re the only child or one of many, or we’re the parent of the only child or the parent of many. My son was an only child for quite awhile, and there was never a guarantee of a sibling. I got comments often on how much having a sibling would help him to “grow” (according to the growth other people thought he needed, particularly with behavior). Well, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it, so to be constantly told things like this was pretty irritating.
My ds has a sibling now, but our family will be necessarily on the smaller side. I could make myself very depressed by focusing on all the downsides of a small family. Instead, I choose to count my blessings. If we can go on more vacations and do more activities and read more stories/spend more one-on-one time with our kids because there are fewer, I’m going to embrace that and be happy about it.
To quote Mellocello again, “it is what it is”.
That essay haunted me for a while, because I read it before I had my second child. And we will probably only have 2, though not by choice. But I think, like it has been said, children deal with whatever they get, and they handle it. I was encouraged when a teacher told me that only children are usually a delight in the classroom, and seem to struggle with the same issues that other children struggle with, so they aren’t all that different. My son has already told me that he wants to have a lot of children, so maybe that will be his way of making up for growing up with just him and a baby sister who will always be too young to play with.
Interesting. We may only have one child, too. I’d never thought about some of the implications you and the essay mentioned, however. It’s not a decision we’re making yet anyway, but it’s all something to consider. I don’t know what I’d do without my sister. I probably ought to keep things like that in mind for our son.
We only have two kids and may or may not have a third. Our kids are fairly far apart in age, and I admit that I feel envious of my friends who have kids who play well together because they are close in age. Growing up, I have a brother who is 22 months older than me and a sister 16 months younger, so we played together constantly (and fought too). I feel bad that my kids don’t have that closeness, but it just didn’t happen. I’m not sure my mom totally planned the closeness for us either
My husband is the youngest of 7, but for his last six years at home it was just him and his mom, so in some ways he was an only kid for a while. I agree that every family is different and it’s so hard to compare. We often don’t have as much control or choice in childbearing as we would like to think we have. On a sort of related note, my husband and I are both adjusting to having very different economic circumstances than we grew up with. We both came from larger families that were very poor, and now we have a small family and will likely have a good income in a few years. It’s hard to figure out what to give our kids and how to treat them because our situtation is not like what we grew up with.
My husband and I are the parents of an only child. Not by choice. Our son is intelligent, mature for his age and doesn’t seem to mind his lack of siblings. But I worry about him not having any family beyond us. We try to help him develop close relationships with cousins and hope that they will remain close as adults. We also plan to adopt, but with the age difference of 7 or more years it will be more like having 2 only children.
My husband and I both come from small (or disfunctional) families. We often feel lonely in the Mormon world of big family gatherings and huge networks of cousins. For me, it’s been a big loss. As a child I desperately needed (um, still do) a grandparent, aunt or uncle to love me, to tell me I was an OK kid. My grandchildren will have grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles and I am glad of that.
hmm, I didn’t mean to say small families are disfunctional! one of our families is small– the other disfunctional.
I have always been jealous of big, supportive LDS families. I am trying to create that with my children, and so far it really seems to be working. That makes me happy. But I still feel guilty sometimes for the things and opportunities I can’t give all my children because there are so many of them.
I sobbed after reading that article. My daughter is essentially an only child (half bothers and sisters who are much older and do not live with us).
I have always said that my daughter was blessed for all the same reasons Ms. McBaine stated. But when she got to the part of losing both parents and not having anyone to remember childhood with, I cried. I cherish being able to visit with my sister about our childhood, the love we have for our parents, and for each other.
I am afraid I have robbed my daughter of a wonderful gift.
Thank you all for sharing your experiences–I think that Mellocello had a great line: it is what it is, and there’s good and bad, like any childhood.
For my husband, being an only child meant that he received much love and attention from his grandparents. He treats his cousins almost like brothers. And because he had to grow up very concerned for his parents, he is a good person to be married to, self-sufficient and practical, which balances my impracticality.
Suedonym, ah, don’t cry. You have given your daughter so much–life and home and love. See the whole picture. She will be all right.
I am an only child as well and I can relate to many of the things being said. Some things I had never even considered like “being comfortable around adults.” Growing up, and even now, I never had a problem talking to people who were older and more experienced than me.
I guess I had sibling-envy every once in a while. While my parents went out of their way to provide a comfortable and loving (and yes, spoiled) life for me, our relationship often felt a bit distant and reserved, compared to my friends with big Mormon families. I often wonder if it was due to the lack of other children in the house.
I would never trade my only-child life. Even though I can see many fun and helpful aspects of having siblings, I think it was a positive influence in my life and helped me become who I am today.
I had serious one-child envy growing up as the first of six kids. I love my siblings, but I craved one-on-one attention (or just any focused attention) from my parents, and though they did their best, it was rare. I envied my friends who had their parents so involved in their lives.
The funny thing is, now that it’s possible that my son will be an only child (due to infertility), I worry about it all the time and I think about all he would miss out on by not having siblings. So I guess there’s an up and a down side to being an only as well as one of many.