Being an Only Child Was Amazing—It’s Being an Only Adult That’s Tough

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I often feel like I’m navigating a war zone at home. My three daughters, all under ten, seem to have a perpetual conflict going on. If you’re a parent, you know the routine: accusations of cheating in games, sneaky kicks under the table, and the all-important battle for who gets to sit next to me. Just today, they’re squabbling over a video game remote, and I can’t tell if they’re acting like typical siblings or little hooligans.

My husband, the middle child in a family of three, insists their behavior is par for the course. For every tale of sibling rivalry I share, he counters with a story of his own. “Oh, yeah? One time, my brother hooked a fishing line into my hair and dragged me across the beach!” He says, parting his hair to reveal the scar. It’s all so foreign to me. As you can probably guess, I grew up as an only child.

I adore my kids, especially my youngest, who is a sparkling little charmer that lights up the room. But I’ll admit, their constant bickering can be exhausting. There were moments—especially after my third child was born—when I questioned if having three kids was the right choice.

Last fall, my father began a rigorous treatment for stage 3 cancer. When I received the news, I called my husband, who was traveling for work. After we hung up, I stood in our living room, paralyzed, unsure of who to reach out to next. I yearned for a sibling to share this burden with, but instead, I called my dear friend Lila, someone I’ve known since our teenage years. “I feel like I need a sister,” I admitted.

“I can be your sister,” she offered, but I knew she was juggling her own family and responsibilities. We belong to the sandwich generation—most of my friends are managing aging parents while raising their own kids. No one could fill that sibling role for me.

Meanwhile, my mother started showing signs of stress-related neurological issues from taking care of my dad. Our once-close family dynamic felt shaky, and with my husband traveling more often, visiting my parents became nearly impossible. I was left to handle the demands of solo parenting, often struggling to keep my emotions in check around the kids.

One sunny afternoon at the playground, I found myself pushing my youngest on a swing, desperately avoiding the other moms engaged in small talk. A grandmother nearby, who was pushing her grandson, shared that both her daughter and grandson were only children. I mentioned my own only-child status, and she asked, “Did you like it?”

I hesitated, remembering the mix of loneliness and the perks of having undivided parental attention growing up. That day, however, the ambivalence was gone. “I did when I was younger…” I trailed off, feeling the weight of my current reality.

She asked how I felt now, and I confessed about my parents’ health struggles and how I wished for a sibling to lean on. She nodded and shared her own story of loss, and we both stood in silence, understanding the challenges that come with being an only child.

Recent studies have shown that growing up with siblings can often lead to hostility rather than camaraderie. In fact, a 2010 British survey of 40,000 households found that only children reported higher levels of happiness compared to those with siblings. While these studies resonate with me, I still remember the idyllic aspects of being an only child. The real challenge comes with adulthood.

I didn’t expect my dad to pull through, but he did, and now he’s cancer-free. He joined us for Christmas, and my mom and I prepared our traditional roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner amid the usual chaos of my daughters. After years of wanting a larger dining table, I finally made the leap and bought one that seats eight. I wanted a table that could accommodate my daughters, their friends, and future families. Honestly, I would have opted for a table that seats twenty if it were feasible.

Perhaps it’s natural to crave what we didn’t have as kids. I still feel a twinge of envy seeing my friends’ happy sibling moments on social media. But as Shel Silverstein wisely said, “all the magic I have known, I’ve had to make myself.” Ultimately, the family I’m building today is what matters most. I chose to have three children to give them the gift of each other. They might not see it now as they argue over the last brownie or the first turn in Minecraft, but one day, they will.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the journey of being an only child has its perks, but being an only adult is a different story. If you’re exploring paths to motherhood, you might find resources on home insemination and family planning helpful. For more information, check out this excellent resource on IVF or learn about the Cryobaby Home Insemination Kit. Don’t forget to explore our terms and conditions.