parent opinion

I have a favourite child. Here's why.

I have two daughters. I love them both fiercely.  

But one is definitely my favourite.  

Not a particularly popular opinion to voice, I might add.  

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I recently gave birth to my youngest. Before she was born, I couldn’t comprehend how I could ever love anything in the world as much as my firstborn.    

I shared these concerns with friends. All of them told me they’d felt exactly the same way.

They also assured me that their fears were unfounded. That they love their subsequent children just as much as their firstborn.  

I agree with that sentiment wholeheartedly.

The minute I laid my eyes on my newborn, I was hooked. I loved her immediately.

A couple of friends opened up a bit more when I prodded about their feelings.

One who’d had a baby recently told me she didn’t love her quite as much as her toddler yet.

My friend Masha lamented: ‘I’d spent almost 4 years cultivating a relationship with my son. Then my newborn showed up. For the first little while, it felt like there was a stranger in our house.’

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I totally get it. 

That’s exactly how I feel.

I’ve spent more than three years forming an incredible bond with my oldest daughter. Every sleepy morning wake up. Every bedtime. And everything in between.  

She’s old enough for us to have personal jokes. I’ve finally figured out how to tickle her back exactly the way she likes it.

But my newborn?

We’ve spent a short seven weeks together.  

I do love her. But I don’t know her.  

Listen to this episode of This Glorious Mess, where host Leigh Campbell runs through the things you shouldn't say to your friends struggling with fertility. Post continues after podcast. 

Hell, she barely even knows the difference between night and day at this point.  

And the fact that she can’t communicate sure doesn’t help the situation!  

It can be hard to genuinely like something that just mostly poos and cries all day.

Yet I’m not worried. Not in the slightest. 

One day, in the not too distant future, she won’t feel like a bit of a stranger anymore. 

We’ll have our own language. Our special rituals.  

When I think about her, I’ll have a bank full of wonderful memories and experiences. 

And many years from now, I’ll probably even pine for the time when she was just an unknown. A clean slate. Full of possibilities and potential, without the inevitable tribulations and scars that lie ahead.  

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When her safety and wellbeing were wholly in my control.

I acknowledge that this is most likely a short-term predicament.  

I’m not worried about playing favourites in the long term.  

I can’t wait to get to know my little stranger.

Feature Image: Getty.

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