Confessions of a Mom of an Only Child

Hard Questions

I wonder if the questions will stop being so hard to answer. Five years in and they still feel like a punch in the gut. The questions most often come externally—from innocent friends and strangers who I believe are genuinely curious. But, then, there are the internal questions—the ones that come from our 5 year old, who is an only child. Those hurt the most. 

The comments and questions from others sound like this: “Personally I hated being an only child”, “everyone else had siblings to play with and I didn’t. I had to make friends the hard way”, “only one?! How easy!”, “aw, no siblings?”, and the obvious–“is he your only?”

The comments and questions from our only child sound like this: “Why am I the only kid who doesn’t have a brother or sister?”, “Do you think one day we can get a brother for me?”, “I want a brother to play with so I don’t have to play alone.” 

Even though I am certain this is what our life is supposed to look like right now, even though it’s more beautiful of a life than I could have ever dreamed of, and even though the joy far outweighs the grief every single day–I have some things to say.

Fighting Comparison

I’d be lying if I said this was always an easy road to walk down. Don’t get me wrong, there are many perks, but there is also heaviness. Whether by choice or by circumstance, some of us are navigating this road without many people to turn to.

Sometimes I find myself quiet in a large group of moms all comparing their wins and their struggles with their little ones. I don’t get quiet because I have nothing to say, I stay quiet because I don’t feel like I belong. Like there might not be any room for me at the table. Like I’m some how less of a mom because I don’t know the other side. Trying to talk to a mom with 4 littles about what I struggle with at home with our 1 feels a little off-balanced. Like my problems can’t ever match up to her problems (and she’s silently judging me for my complaints.)

You see, there’s a lot of reasons my life as a mom with only one is really easy. There’s only one person to get ready, one round of extracurricular activities, no siblings to argue with, no one to fight for your attention, two parents to one child, along with MANY other reasons. There’s a lot of love and laughter and so much quality time. There are family dates and spontaneous trips. There’s less financial stress. There’s unlimited snuggles and never having to share mom and dad. And, while it can be easy and fun and happy a lot of the times, it’s also hard. It”s lonely and sad at times. It’s a pretty isolated path.

The Grief Feels Heavy

While some might see my empty hands and be envious of the ease of my life, know that while the people closest to me navigate another pregnancy or have a gaggle of kids on their arm, I sometimes find myself having to leave a room because the grief feels heavy. Sometimes it’s really painful to see what we don’t have. Know that when my kid turns to me at bedtime and asked for a sibling because he doesn’t always love playing alone, that my heart breaks. And it breaks over and over again.

Like all grief, it is never constant. Some seasons go by and there’s not a moment of sadness. I look at my life and my only child and I feel gratitude and joy and more blessings than I could have ever thought possible. And, some seasons come with a heavier load.

Just know, the grass isn’t always greener.