Mother's love: A mother admits: "I have a favorite child"

A tender word. And a mean one. Because children are different, our feelings for them too. A mother's honest confession.

I said the bad word yesterday. As if there weren't enough others. Baby, robber or just my son's name, Jakob. But no, there was another one who wanted to come out when he called out to me from the nursery. "Yes, my favorite child?" I heard myself answer. "Favorite child" is not possible. Only parents of single children can use this with impunity. From number two it belongs in the poison cupboard. We officially have our favorite son and daughter. That's not a lie either, because I love both, and I only have one of each variety. A Jakob, a Marlene. So beautiful, so fair. But there is another truth, and it is uglier.

Yes, I know I'm not alone in this. You confess that to each other over the second glass of wine after the parents' evening. Old Testament stories deal with that, and you can also google it. If you enter the term "favoritism" – for example: preference – then impressive percentages pop up on the screen. For example, a much-cited study by the American Cornell University: 70 percent of mothers and 65 percent of fathers, so hot in it, prefer one of their children. If you ask the children themselves, even 85 percent say: Sure, mom and dad have a darling. In the worst case, the same. Feeling that a child is closer to you than its siblings is accompanied by a brew of feelings of guilt, inadequacy and betrayal. Even if one pays the utmost attention to justice in everyday life – from the size of the birthday presents to the number of square meters in the room – children have a keen sense for the small differences. And these differences can have far-reaching consequences. Among other things, sibling couples who experienced injustice as children experience their relationship as adults as less sustainable; and those who feel less loved tend to have depressive symptoms later in life.

I would never have thought a few years ago that my daughter of all people might be affected. When I was pregnant for the second time, it was the other way round: my biggest fear was that there might not be enough feeling left for the younger baby. Because the position in my heart was already filled. Because my world was about a three-year-old who could look so sinister and laugh so heartily. My motherly love knew rashes up and down, but what love doesn't she know? When I was angry and she cried, I explained to her: You and I, we always love each other.

Right from the start

And then Jakob lay on my stomach in the delivery room, and I thought: It can be that easy. From day one, he and I made it easier for us to do our rounds like a practiced couple. While Marlene and I sometimes stood on each other's feet like two beginners in the first tango lesson. Everything about Jakob was straightforward: birth, breastfeeding, falling asleep. I even got pregnant the second time. I was relieved how much space suddenly opened up in my heart. As if I had found the secret code to an even larger vault. And hadn't Marlene had an equally intimate relationship with her father from day one? Now he was particularly in demand. So we parents played a new game, the "My child your child" game, and the rules were self-evident: toddler entertainment for dad and daughter, with a zoo, playground and ice cream parlor, sofa chilling for mother and son. Many parents do this with the second child, and it's not wrong either. Nevertheless, I believe today that Marlene felt backwards for the first time. Because the more Papa time could never fully compensate if I interrupted our reading hours for the little ones. Or I told Marlene if she clung to me while I was feeding the little one.

My daughter was never overtly jealous.

But maybe she noticed that I looked at Jacob differently, hugged me differently. Suddenly she was the child with the special requests, the sudden sensitivities, the abdominal, head and foot pains, always without an organic cause. Maybe her way of telling me: look at me! The main thing, attention – even if it was accompanied by annoyed looks. Jakob never needed this courting for me. When he was five, he went alone to the station baker and bought rolls for everyone. He shone with inner security, was always rock-solid: Even if he turns away, we're still there. This confirms what scientists at Brigham Young University in Utah found out last year: when younger siblings feel like their parents' darling, their self-confidence benefits enormously – if they feel less perceived than older brothers or sisters, they also suffer disproportionately. For the firstborn, the team led by Professor Alex Jensen, the rashes in both directions are less dramatic. The researchers also found something else: it is less painful to lose out compared to a sibling of the opposite sex. Good news for Marlene: Nobody can contest the title "Favorite Daughter". Other parents need a little more creativity. Perhaps a son or daughter is closer to them – but the other son is the declared favorite painter, the second daughter the favorite fun maker. Siblings often search for such niches on their own, we can confirm them.

We reflect our own wishes

Children are visiting our lives. Regardless of whether we invited them or if they happened to come by. The most binding blind dates you can have. As they grow up, they become more and more themselves, and we look for something in them that we can build on. Something familiar. Perhaps an ideal version of ourselves. Jakob is now eight, and he's more like me: For him, the world is a promise and a challenge, he is dressed in five minutes in the morning, easy to learn, and bravely on the soccer field even in the rain by. You like to be reflected there. For Marlene, the world is effort and imposition, she likes to stay in her pajamas until the afternoon, needs two hours to even start learning the vocabulary, and always drops candy wrappers next to the trash can. Perhaps it is no less a mirror – but more for the sides of me that I don't like. Incidentally, I am not alone in this observation either: science journalist Jeffrey Kluger explains that parents are often particularly delighted when they recognize their own traits in a child of the opposite sex. For example, when the mother who writes the poems feels particularly close to her tender, artistically inclined son and the athletic father of his footballer daughter. But there is also a kind of closeness that I can never have with my son, only with my daughter. And that is good for both of us. Because I know exactly how she feels in her body, which is beginning its journey towards being a woman. You just have to bring the conversation to it, and fall in love, feelings and the tricky things in life, then Marlene sits there with shining eyes and wants to talk. While Jakob shouts "iih!" And runs away. Then I think: Such conversations will remain with Marlene and me. They will still connect us when she is a grown woman – just as they connect me with my mother. By the way, Marlene was recently in the cinema with a boy from her class, including popcorn and holding hands in the dark. She entrusted it to me. Because she is his favorite girl. There are several types of balancing justice. And family is not everything in life. How fortunate.

This article originally appeared on Eltern.de.