by Robert Needlman, MD, FAAP
Almost everything a firstborn does breaks new ground. First to be born. First to toilet train. First to go out on a date. First, egads, to drive. Like the pioneers of the old West, firstborns learn to be resourceful, self-reliant, and tough. They demand a lot of themselves, and of others in turn.
Psychologists and researchers often describe typical firstborns with a flurry of strong adjectives: serious, conscientious, take-charge, goal-oriented, aggressive, rule-conscious, exacting, conservative, organized, responsible, jealous, fearful, and anxious. Clearly, not all firstborns fit these descriptors, but as a group, most have more than their share of these traits. What is it about being born first that would shape a child's personality along these lines?
First, you have to look at the special relationship firstborns have with their parents. First-time parents sweat the details. They document every milestone, celebrate each small achievement, and worry if it comes later than expected. Because they are new to parenting and don't have other children to distract them, they often focus on their firstborn with high intensity. This usually ends up being a double-edged sword: They provide a lot of valuable one-on-one stimulation--talking and playing and teaching-but they also tend to put their firstborns under a great deal of pressure to succeed. They may criticize every small breach of manners, for example, or demand that their firstborns always "set a good example."
To the extent that young firstborn children are able to live up to their parents' high expectations, they reap precious rewards: praise and a sense that they really are special. They often become very skilled at knowing what their parents (and later, teachers and bosses) want them to do, and doing it.
Ironically, their very success often leads to anxiety: If being special hinges on performing up to high standards, what happens if they fail? To protect against this disaster, many firstborn children set even higher standards for themselves than their parents do, and, as a result, are rarely satisfied. Any success they achieve is not enough. Over and over, they must prove that they are not the failures they fear they might be.
The other area in which firstborns have special relationships, of course, is with their later-born siblings. Many firstborns are surprised (not to say shocked) by the appearance of a little competitor. The oft-heard term sibling rivalry really doesn't begin to describe the complex mixture of jealousy, anger, and guilt they feel. Some respond aggressively, but others become even more determined to be good as a way of protecting their status in the family. Most show a mixture of behaviors, helping with a diaper change one minute, pinching the baby the next.
Amazingly, younger siblings often idolize the older brothers and sisters who torment them. The firstborn becomes the leader of the children within the family, and may act as their protector in the neighborhood as well. Firstborns are often called on to babysit younger siblings and keep them in line. They learn to accept responsibility and to expect others to listen to them. These early experiences prepare firstborns to play leadership roles in the grown-up world. On the down side, this tendency to be the boss leads some firstborns to try to dominate every situation and run roughshod over any opposition.
Oldest and youngest children can usually find reasons to be glad about their place in the family. Not so middle children. They often aren't the biggest and strongest, they aren't the babies who get away with murder, they aren't really anything special, at least in their own minds. Sometimes they feel invisible.
But this uncomfortable feeling of not having a defined place in the family may actually turn out to be an advantage. Unlike first children, who often define success by their ability to meet their parents' expectations, middle children are more prone to rebel against the status quo. This observation is the main point of a fascinating book, Born to Rebel: Birth Order, Family Dynamics, and Creative Lives, by Frank J. Sulloway. The book also argues that birth order--the middle position in particular--is one of the prime forces behind the scientific and social revolutions that drive history forward. I'd wager that most middle children had no idea that they were so important.
Another result of having a less well-defined place in the family is that middle children often reach outside the family for significant relationships. They make close circles of friends. During adolescence, in particular, they may be especially influenced by their peer groups, often to their parents' dismay.
Parents may not have as strong a sense of what to expect from a middle child as they do for a firstborn or their youngest. In one way, that's a good thing, because it gives the middle child freedom to follow his individual path. On the other hand, the sense of being less understood makes some middle children feel unloved. From the parents' point of view, the fact that there are a thousand baby pictures of the first child, and only a few dozen of the second-born simply means that they got tired of getting rolls and rolls of film developed. But from the middle child's vantage point, it is documentary proof of their second-class status. In terms of sibling rivalry, the firstborn may be struggling to maintain her position on top, but middle children seemingly struggle just to be noticed at all.
For any middle child, the biggest point of comparison is the sibling who falls just before them in the birth order. Often, rather than competing head-on with that older sibling, the middle child chooses to go in a different direction. If the older sibling is a great student, for example, the middle child may become a musician or an athlete. (There's some research suggesting that middle children are more likely to engage in dangerous sports, perhaps because they are used to taking risks.) By choosing a niche that isn't already occupied, a middle child increases his chances of standing out and being noticed, and decreases the risk of negative comparisons.
Middle children, who are usually smaller than their older siblings while they're growing up, often learn non-aggressive strategies to get what they want, such as negotiation, cooperation, or seeking parental intervention. As the underdogs themselves in many sibling conflicts, middle children often develop a fine sense of empathy with the downtrodden, as do many youngest children. Where first and last children may tend to be self-centered, middle children often take a genuine interest in getting to know other people. Being in the middle, they may find it easier to look at interpersonal situations from various points of view.
Being the youngest child in a family has definite advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, babies are fussed over and pampered. They enjoy special status in the pecking order and often get away with behavior that other family members can't. On the other hand, many youngest children feel that they never quite measure up to their more experienced and accomplished siblings. To borrow a phrase from a famous comedian, they get no respect.
Psychologists use a variety of words to describe last-borns: affectionate, sensitive, people-oriented, attention-seeking, indulged, dependent, laid-back, tenacious, absent-minded, relaxed, fun, flaky. What family relationships might be at work molding youngest children into these diverse shapes?
Some parents look on their youngest child as their last chance to do everything right. In these families, the youngest may feel a great deal of performance pressure, similar to a firstborn. Other parents seem to decide that they will never allow their last child to be unhappy, ever. The predictable effect of constantly catering to the child's wishes is to make her into a demanding, dissatisfied tyrant. Psychologists sometimes refer to such a child as being "enthroned."
In most families, however, last born is a relatively low-pressure position. The parents have more experience under their belts and are more likely to take a laissez-faire attitude toward such issues as developmental milestones, toilet training, dating, and so on. They are more confident that things will work out for the best., and their relationship with their last-borns is less intense than with the older children. This makes sense because the parents have to divide their attention among more children.
Having somewhat more distance in their relationship with their parents can give last-borns freedom to explore new ideas and new places. On the other hand, if the emotional distance is too great, youngest children may feel disconnected, as though they somehow don't belong in the family.
Since last-borns are rarely the strongest or most capable during childhood, they often carve out a place for themselves by being clever and charming. If you're the smallest, it's important to be able to make people like you, and many youngest children develop impressive social skills. Within the family, they often become skilled politicians, learning to get through negotiation what they can't win by force. They may become the resident peacekeepers--but they're also perfectly capable of stirring up trouble when it serves their purposes, teaming up with one sibling or another.
Many last-borns capitalize on their position as smallest and weakest by elevating helplessness to a high art. They learn that they don't have to do housework, for example, if they can get others to do it for them. As adults, they may have difficulty keeping track of commitments and finishing what they start. Playing the "baby card" also allows them to avoid the consequences for wrongdoing, for example, breaking a sibling's toy.
Other youngest children, however, refuse to accept the helpless label. Instead, like determined terriers, they grab hold of a position and just hang on. The years of sticking up for themselves against the might of their older siblings prepares these children for careers as successful advocates, often championing the cause of -appropriately enough--the underdog.
Traditionally, so-called only children have gotten a bad name. Not many years ago it was common for people to assume that an only child was sure to be hopelessly selfish and spoiled. Experts added to the list of only-child woes, claiming that they were apt to be more aggressive, uncooperative, socially inept, less successful in marriage, and so on.
But none of this is necessarily true. Only children often grow up to be happy and well adjusted. In fact, being an only child has some advantages: They spend a lot of time interacting with adults, so they develop strong language skills, which serve them well in school and later in life. They enjoy their parents' undivided attention, and never have to suffer the pain of sibling jealousy. And they often enjoy educational, cultural, and travel opportunities that children from large families might miss out on.
But I do think that only children face some real challenges:
Every child is special, but some are too special. Being too special means that a child grows up feeling that she is the only person that matters in the family, and by extension, in the world as a whole. Parents naturally focus a tremendous amount of love and energy on their children, and when there is only one child, the focus can be very intense indeed. Sometimes, too, the events that led up to the child being an "only"--perhaps a long period of infertility, followed by a miraculous pregnancy--also contribute to the parents' conviction that this child must never be allowed to experience sadness or frustration.
Such an indulged child is bound to be spoiled, of course, but also often feels a great deal of pressure to be perfect. When parents watch every move a child makes with eagle eyes, she can easily come to feel that any mistake or shortcoming is the end of the world. This makes for very accomplished, sometimes precocious children, but also for a high degree of perfectionism. When only children succeed in meeting parental expectations they are richly rewarded with praise. An unintended consequence, however, is the fear that one day they might fail, and lose all. In a sense, they become addicted to praise and don't develop the inner resilience naturally ingrained in children who have to battle for family position. Not all only children are "overly special," of course. Many parents balance indulgence with limits, and make a conscious effort to keep the pressure down.
Children who grow up with siblings learn a lot about getting along with other people. They learn to tease and to take teasing. They learn how to make coalitions with other children, and how to get out of them when the time comes. They learn how to compete, how to compromise, and how to consider other people's feelings and needs. It's harder for only children to learn these lessons, and they tend to learn them later. Out-of-home child care helps in this regard. An only child who spends several hours a day in the rough-and-tumble world of a child-care center gets plenty of experience dealing with peers.
Days can be long for only children, with only their parents to keep them company. Without siblings as built-in playmates, only children depend more on friends for company. Parents can help by reaching out to other families in the community, getting to know the other parents, and in that way making it easier for the children to spend time comfortably in various homes. Only children also often develop interests in activities that they can do alone. They learn to enjoy their own company.
