- I grew up as an only child with a single mother in Manhattan.
- I enjoyed having her time and attention, as well as the opportunities being an "only" afforded me.
- It wasn't until I had to navigate my mother's death alone that I really longed for siblings.
I grew up as an only child in 1980s Manhattan with a single mother.
Though my family looked different from most of my friends' families — the majority had fathers and at least one other sibling — I never felt I lacked anything. It was the opposite, in fact.
I was afforded opportunities as an only child that I never would have gotten if I had siblings.
When my mother died in my early 20s, and I had to navigate the grief alone, I longed for a sibling to share the burden with me. The experience shaped my adulthood so profoundly that I ended up having four kids.
As an only child, my mother tried to give me everything
My mother lavished me with attention, affection, and opportunities.
She'd emigrated from Ukraine and wanted to make sure I had access to everything she'd dreamt of private education, French lessons, ballet classes, trips to exciting cities around the world.
I was spoiled, sure, but she felt huge pride in being able to provide her only child with the beautifully wrapped trappings of a lifestyle she'd always coveted.
It wasn't only about stuff, though. I can't remember a time when my mother wasn't there for me. Reading bedtime stories, providing emotional support, and wrapping me in her perfumed hugs.
I was also her favorite dinner date and shopping companion.
Our only-child, single-parent dynamic gave our relationship an intensity I'm not sure would have existed if I'd been one of many or had a dad.
Navigating my mother's illness and death showed me a different, less appealing side of being an 'only'
As I became an adult and started to cultivate my own friends and relationships, being an "only" with only one parent became more complicated.
I didn't have the luxury of simply doing what I wanted — spending holidays with my boyfriend's family, for example — because I had to weigh up whether it was OK to leave my mother alone or not.
I worried about her all the time.
It was hard not to feel guilty. Harder still to accept how heavy the weight of being another person's whole world was starting to feel on my shoulders.
My life imploded during my year abroad in Paris. My mother had a breakdown, began experiencing paranoid delusions and hallucinations, and became terrified of living in New York.
With no other family members to help, my mother came to live with me in my studio apartment in Paris.
Pretending to be just another college kid abroad, studying and partying in Paris while caring for my mentally ill mother, devastated me emotionally and physically.
When my mother died by suicide in a Parisian hospital several months later and the entire family that I'd grown up with vanished overnight, I felt more alone than I ever thought possible.
My experiences shaped my choices as an adult
My experiences may be unusual, but those months of not understanding my mother's mental health crisis, not having anyone to talk about it with, and dealing with death-admin while grieving the person I loved most in the world changed my perspective on being an "only."
Suddenly, the downsides outweighed the perks.
Nearly two decades have passed, but I continue to struggle with what happened in my early 20s. Though my friends were wonderful, loving, and helpful beyond measure, I felt like an imposition. I yearned for someone else to share my experiences and support me through them.
I have four kids now, and they don't have "only child perks" like getting lavished with gifts or holding my undivided attention.
But I hope they have something different. The thing I needed most: another person who could be there in the hardest of times.
And also, in the happiest.