Dating a first born child is like dating your biggest fan, your biggest cheerleader. They constantly see you and your potential and strive to help you get there. A first born child wants you to be your best, and they want to help you and your life be just that.
So when you stop dating an oldest child, you lose someone who instantaneously made your life better simply by being in it. You lose someone who pushed you in a nurturing way (not a nagging one) and someone who was always invested in figuring out how to make your life as successful as possible. You don’t miss one specific thing about an oldest child. You miss the overall sense of security and comfort and positive reinforcement that comes from being with one.
Somewhere In The Middle
Middle children are the peacekeepers, the fairest of their family, and the ones who are often the most level headed. They always able to see things from all sides and keep their cool when things get crazy. Middle children inevitably go with the flow and roll with any punch — it’s just who they are.
When you lose a middle child, you lose your rock. You lose the person who you could always go to when things got tough or you needed stability. Losing a middle child means losing the one thing you could always count on for consistency, for reliability. It means without question losing your person. When you miss a middle child, you miss the wholeness and the calm that they brought to your life. Because it’s very undeniable, and definitely noticeable when it’s gone.
A youngest child is the life of the party, the ball of energy, the star of the show. They bring a certain sense of magic and energy to their entire life (relationships obviously included) that is unmatchable and completely dynamic and exciting.
When you lose a youngest child, you lose that spark – that zest for life. You lose someone who made your life maybe a little bit of a rollercoaster, but nonetheless ridiculously fun. You miss their sense of adventure and their positive outlook. You miss the way they can always make people laugh and never fail to go throughout a day without smiling. Missing a youngest child is an empty, sad sort of missing someone and it’s one that will likely never go away.
Twins are used to being close with someone, and crave that sort of connectivity from their relationships. They are incredibly loving and warm and fill any room they’re in with that sort of comfy, nostalgic feeling. Twins bond quickly, almost instantaneously, and that sort of connection is incredibly difficult to shake.
So when you lose a twin, it’s most likely jarring and abrupt and difficult to give up. You find yourself routinely going back to them like a bad habit. Loving a twin is never superficial or simple, so losing them is equally as devastating. Missing a twin is like a missing a limb, like missing part of you. And it’s the sort of missing someone that stings for an incredibly long time even after they’re gone.
An only child is smart, confident, and resilient. They are incredibly independent, self-sufficent, and just generally tough little nuts to crack. But when they do let someone in, when they do get close with someone, it’s a big deal.
When you lose an only child, there’s often never a full sense of closure. You’re left wondering what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling, because it’s highly likely that a lot of things were left unsaid. You end up missing them not only because they were such a challenge and always kept you on your toes, but because you wonder if things were just ever-so-slightly different, if the two of you would have actually worked out. Missing an only child is one big “what if” that lingers far after the relationship is over.