The journeys of my children’s births were anything but ordinary. My eldest and youngest, born after much anticipation, shared the same obstetrician and entered the world with a familiar flair—bald, cone-headed, and crying for nourishment. They latched onto me with an eagerness that was both heartwarming and effortless. In stark contrast, my middle child, Oliver, arrived in a whirlwind of just four hours and is affectionately remembered as the baby almost born in a restaurant. With a head full of dark hair, he was quiet and took his time to latch on—an indication of his unique nature.
Let me clarify: my love for all my children is equal. However, (there’s always a “however”) I don’t express that love in the same way.
I find it easier to spend quality time with my eldest and youngest. It’s not for lack of trying to bond with Oliver, but the connection with him feels more challenging. I suspect I’m not alone in this sentiment.
My Oldest: Ethan
My oldest, Ethan, engages in conversations about topics that genuinely interest me. He is an inquisitive child with diverse interests. Now that he can read voraciously, he delves into subjects I’m not familiar with—like the complexities of ancient mythology and detailed strategies from historical battles. Our discussions allow me to confide in him, sharing secrets and navigating our experiences with mental health and ADHD together. He embodies the archetypal “interesting” child, the one with whom you can easily connect and converse.
Ethan expresses his opinions, even on mundane outings to the store. He’ll suggest what to buy, express his desire to leave, and he remains composed when we don’t linger in toy aisles. Instead, I might buy him another book, and we’ll discuss the expansive universe of his favorite franchises. His polite and insightful nature makes him a joy to be around. Some children naturally exude this ease—one of your kids might be just like that.
My Youngest: Max
Then there’s my youngest, my little sunshine, Max. At just four years old, he carries an aura of innocence and charm that is irresistible. His tiny voice requests cuddles and expresses love with such sincerity that it melts my heart. He curls up in our bed, snuggling close, and I cherish these fleeting moments. There’s something uniquely heartwarming about being the youngest child—the baby of the family. It’s easy to love him, especially when he shares his imaginative sticker creations and bedtime stories about his stuffed animals.
My Middle Child: Oliver
In contrast, Oliver is a complex character. He has a fervent passion for the color black and a deep fascination with animals, often gravitating toward the less cuddly varieties. Right now, he’s deeply engrossed in maintaining a worm farm beneath my kitchen table, a testament to my indulgence as a parent. As spring approaches, his obsession will shift to seeking out amphibians like frogs and toads.
His engagement style is predominantly inquisitive, often leading to a barrage of questions that can be overwhelming. I find myself snapping more often than I’d like. While I strive to maintain patience, the disconnect between us can be palpable. If you have a child like Oliver, you understand the struggles involved.
He tends to resist my attempts at dressing him in cute outfits, opting instead for his favorite Spinosaurus shirt. I genuinely try to nurture his interests, responding to his queries with care and even joining him in his pursuits at the zoo. I make efforts to show my love, hoping he feels it despite the difficulties in our connection.
The Complexity of Love
It’s an arduous journey. While I love all my children equally, the affection flows more freely with Ethan and Max. I often reflect on Oliver, remembering him as the baby who gazed into my eyes, and I feel a pang of guilt for the effort it takes to connect with him. Yet, love remains. This love is complicated, but it is love nonetheless.
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In summary, the complexities of parenting can lead to unequal bonds with our children. While I love all three equally, the ease of connection varies among them, causing internal conflict. Embracing these feelings is part of the parenting journey.