Updated: Jan. 19, 2016
Originally Published: March 26, 2009
Let me start by saying this: I love my son dearly and hold just as much affection for him as I do for my daughter.
During my pregnancy, I cherished every moment, carrying my baby with me at all times, eagerly anticipating his arrival. When my son, Lucas, was born, I was convinced that no parent could love their child more than I loved him.
For the first three years of Lucas’s life, we were inseparable. I was the mom who couldn’t leave the room without him, whether it was during music class or playdates at home. He would cling to me, and if his dad tried to put him to bed without me, it resulted in tears. While our bond was strong, I sometimes longed for just five minutes of solitude.
Then, when Lucas was three years and four months old, his sister, Mia, entered our lives. Seven years later, I find it difficult to claim that I love them equally. That may be the socially acceptable thing to say, but I honestly don’t understand what it means. They are both unique, and my love for them manifests in different ways. The space they occupy in my heart is equal but distinctly shaped by their personalities.
As a toddler, I would shower Lucas with kisses, much to his delight. Now, at ten and a half, the only time he permits a hug or kiss is at bedtime. The boy who once felt deeply upset when he disappointed us now engages in endless arguments. Conversations have become a challenge, often reduced to grunts and eye rolls. I constantly find myself asking him to do things multiple times. Each day feels like a battle, and while I miss him during the day, I sometimes wish for a break just moments after he comes home.
Conversing with him has become tricky; after the obligatory “What did you do at school today?” I struggle to connect. He loves sports, yet discussions about his favorite teams and fantasy football leave me lost. He excels at chess and piano, both of which are foreign to me. I attend his chess tournaments, offering little more than the advice to “take your time.”
The reality is, I see so much of myself in Lucas. I feel his sadness when he struggles and celebrate his achievements, whether he wins or simply tries something new. I am proud of the kind, considerate son he is and cheer him on during his games. We share special moments, like our weekend countdown of the top 40 songs, and I treasure our time spent playing board games or reading together.
Despite this, Lucas feels that I favor Mia more, and it’s easy to see why. Mia is a delightful presence in our lives. At seven, she embodies sweetness and enthusiasm. She greets each day with requests for her favorite cereal and a side of “huggies and kissies.” She eagerly helps with chores, shares her day at dinner, and engages with me in a way that Lucas no longer does. Their dynamic is different; Mia welcomes my affection while Lucas often pushes it away.
Last night, Lucas voiced his feelings, stating that I love Mia more than him. He’s perceptive; he’s always been wise beyond his years. I had assumed he understood that there’s a difference between the affection Mia receives and the love I have for him. This is where I realize I’ve fallen short.
Though he is mature for his age, understanding love and affection is complex, even for adults. I need to find ways to express my love to Lucas in a way that resonates with him. I can seize those bedtime moments to hug and cuddle him more. I must invest time to connect with him meaningfully. Perhaps I will surprise him with something interesting from the news tomorrow morning.
In the end, my love for both Lucas and Mia remains boundless, albeit expressed differently.
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Summary:
This article explores the complexities of parental love, focusing on the author’s experiences raising her son, Lucas, and daughter, Mia. While she adores both children, she acknowledges that her affection manifests differently due to their unique personalities. The author reflects on the challenges of connecting with her son as he grows older, recognizing the importance of finding ways to express her love for him.