What It's Like Being an Only Child

As a toddler, I would often wake up in hysterical fits, screaming and crying, whenever I had my most frequently recurring nightmare. The dream had the same plot each time: My mother came to me, and put her hand on my shoulder, and told me she was pregnant. I was going to be a “big sister.” I would let out a scream so visceral in my dream that I ended up screaming in real life too—as I slept. “No, no, no,” I would yell over and over. As the dream went, my mother had the baby, and eventually I was totally forgotten by her.

Fortunately, every time I had that dream, I woke up from it, still an only child. A much gentler reality would await me: homemade breakfast, hugs, and reassurances that no other children were on the way. My nightmares often alternated between this, and the evil characters from “My Little Pony.”

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Owning My Only-Child Identity

I took pride in all my quirks as a child. I was taller than my peers, I had two over-sized and widely-spaced front teeth, and I was the only one in my friend group without a sibling. It was an unimaginable reality for every other kid I spoke to; I’d wow them with the fact. In P.E., we’d play a game where you had to run to the other side of the gym if something yelled out applied to you. So, when my gym teacher said, “run if you have a sibling”—which was a surefire way of getting every kid to cross—I was always the only one who didn’t run. I’d be left standing alone, but with a big smile on my face.

When ‘Lucky’ Started to Feel Complicated

When I was younger, my friends would tell me how lucky I was to be by myself. “I wish I didn’t have a sibling,” they told me, and I beamed back, “yeah, it’s pretty great,” I’d respond with a flick of my hair. “Sooo many presents,” and their eyes got wide.

But, as I got older, my friends’ responses began to change. “Don’t you get lonely?” gradually became their most common refrain. And so, seeing my family dynamic in a new light, I began to reflect on how my solo upbringing might have played a formidable role in shaping me.

For example, perhaps not having a sibling is responsible for my deep love of attention, which has always been a central part of my personality. And as an only child, I have received plenty of attention all my life. I also prefer the company of adults much more than the company of people my own age… I have always found it easier to get along with people who have three decades on me… I’ve long felt a mutual understanding with my elders far more than with my contemporaries… And the list goes on.

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Learning to Be a Kid Among Kids

I remember my efforts to communicate with my peers in middle school as self-conscious and strenuous. I had to train myself to understand the odd behavioral quirks of teenagers. Along these same lines, from an early age, I viewed myself as an equal to my parents, playing the same role that they did in our triangular family unit. (This fact is backed up by psychological studies.) And as someone who perceived herself on par with much older people, I’ve always been self-sufficient too, never needing company nor particularly wanting it.

When friends began telling me that they couldn’t imagine life without their sibling(s), I’d respond the exact opposite—since I’d never known an alternative to being alone. And yet, though I was never bothered by loneliness as a young child. Adolescence has hit me a little bit harder in this respect. I hate taking vacations with just my parents. They don’t know how to have fun the way I want to. As well as they understand me, they can’t grasp the sorts of things that another teenager in the house might.

The pandemic did not aid my isolation either. The idea of a companion, who knew my upbringing just as well as I did (and was possibly as miserable in 2020 as I was), was not an unpleasant one—although not a thought that crossed my mind until years after the event…in retrospect.

Suddenly, I’m Not an Anomaly

These days, I am no longer an anomaly. Only-child families, though still not the norm in the U.S., are certainly on the rise. According to the Pew Research Center, the number of women ending their childbearing years with just one child has nearly doubled since the 1970s. Several factors play a role here, from the cost of raising children, to the fact that women are getting married and having kids later in life, to the increasing importance of career ambitions. All of which drove my parents to be content with their one (magnificent!) daughter.

The Myths We Keep Getting Wrong

Being an only child is not an alien existence. And, I don’t think “only children” really turn out that much different from those with brothers or sisters. If anything, perhaps we come out more sure of our own identities. Or, perhaps we just pop out already in middle age and skip the childhood part altogether. As for dubious allegations that we only children are spoiled, getting enough attention for two is not a cause of that. As far as I’m concerned, being spoiled is about being taught (or not taught) manners, regardless of who may or may not be sharing your room.

Where I’ve Landed

I am happy to report that nowadays, I don’t have that sibling nightmare anymore… Or, at least it’s a lot less frequent. My mother always manages to remind me that when she and my father are old and sickly, I will be the only one there to take care of them. As an only child, I tell her, I’m up to the challenge. And I add, “you better treat me well now, you reap what you sow.”

Being born into my family, I truly think I got lucky. There are a lot of reasons for that, not least of which: When I put my head on my pillow at night, I’ve never once had to negotiate with a sibling about when we turn out the lights.

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Growing Up As an Only Child, And What I Learned Without Siblings