Only Child Thoughts

Originally posted May 1, 2025

The other day I saw an Instagram Reel- it was clips of Wendy and Michael Darling from the 1953 Peter Pan, the animated Disney version. Over the clips was text that was something along the lines of “my first baby will always be my little brother.” Something like that. And it hurt my feelings, real bad. The 1953 Peter Pan is one of my favorite movies, of all time. The story and everything about it, every version, every movie, every character means so much to me. Michael was the younger of Wendy’s two brothers; a big plot point in Peter Pan is Wendy slowly becoming their mother.

This really doesn’t have much to do with Peter Pan, I really don’t need to get into it. Seeing the context of the Reel to the scenes of one of my most beloved movies was a combination I just didn’t need. Basically, I saw a Reel that reminded me of something I’m never going to have: a sibling.

I’m an only child, I have been for most of my life, and I’ve never much liked it. Of all one thousand of my cousins, they all have siblings. I grew up very, very close to my cousins, but it was never quite the same. At the end of the day, after I was done watching movies with Jazmin and Joey and Manny, they all got to go home together, and I went home alone. Almost all of my friends had at least one other kid in the house growing up. Of course, they were all jealous that I got my own room or had a lot of toys or didn’t have an annoying little sister stealing my clothes or whatever it is they complained about. I know that I had my lucky bits of life- but I would have given anything to have someone there to steal my clothes.

I remember being a lonely kid. I had my big family and plenty of friends, but I remember always feeling like something was missing. I developed my social anxiety early in my life, always having a really hard time talking to anybody. A big part of that comes from not having anyone but my parents to talk to. I had an imaginary friend, though. Her name was Bluebell and she was a fairy. She wrote a bluebell petal skirt and ballet flats and had a constellation of freckles on her face- I remember her very well. I particularly remember knowing she wasn’t real. I knew she wasn’t there, I knew very well that I couldn’t see her or feel her. I just wanted someone to talk to.

(This story isn’t all bad, I wrote my college essay about it and got into my dream school- that I didn’t go to! Go Huskies!)

In kindergarten, when we got Max (my dog), my parents brought him to pick me up from school wrapped in a blue baby blanket, and I remember being so excited that (by some miracle I suppose) my parents were bringing me home a baby brother. I have to have been the only kid in the world to ever be disappointed about getting a puppy.

I found out earlier last year that I was going to have a sibling, years and years ago, but I didn’t- we won’t get deep into it, but just know that. I found this out at a dinner with an ex and his family. Our parents were meeting, and mine told this story to his like it was a common anecdote, a small tidbit, not something completely new and earth-shattering to me. A little while after this bomb, my boyfriend at the time and I got in the car, and I felt like the world had just stopped moving. All my life, I wondered why almost everyone else I knew had this other person, someone closer to them than I ever could be.

At first, after learning about this, I was a little bit relieved to know I wasn’t supposed to be an only child, but really quickly this horrible and shattering realization came to me- I was always meant to be an only child; I was always meant to be alone. I remember sitting in the car, going back and forth and back and forth not being able to say anything except for that: I was always supposed to be alone. I’d always felt born to be an only child, no matter how much I pleaded otherwise. To know that I was so close to having what I always wanted, especially to not even remember it, just absolutely crushes me every time I think about it- which is quite often.

I’ve always been so, so, so jealous of the relationships people have with their siblings. There’s a closeness that I’ll never experience, someone that to them will always be more important than me. There’s jokes I’ll never understand and moments I’ll never share and love I’ll never get to feel.

My best friend of 15 years, Bri, I’ve always called my sister. So much so that when I mention being an only child, people are often really confused: “I thought you had a sister,” no, that’s just my best friend. She does have a sister, a real one, and I’ve always called her my sister too. We went to see her together, when she was born. But they live together. They go places together and see family together and watch movies together and make jokes together. We do those things too of course, but it will never be in the same way that they do. What they share will always be different, always unheard of to me.

My sister and I aren’t really best friends these days, and it kind of serves as another little reminder that I can’t ever really fill this space I’ve left open my whole life. No one can really step into the shoes that I bought knowing no one can wear them, yknow.

Growing up, watching everyone, everyone have a sibling, while feeling like I deserved one too, is really really, hard. I will admit, I was a spoiled brat as a kid, as only children stereotypically are, but I would’ve traded any of it for a brother, I always wanted a brother. Worse than never having a sibling when you always dreamed of it, is finding out you were going to have one, but it got stripped away from you. Finding out you were meant to be alone, knowing you spent your whole life wishing you weren’t, is a rotten, rotten feeling, truly. It’s like I’m mourning for something or someone I never had.

I just really, really, envy y’all with a sibling. or two, or four, or seven. Anything. I know the grass isn’t greener on the other side, but I would’ve loved to see that grass. I still would, a little bit.

Hug your siblings.

With love, Willianny