To The Middle Child: You Are Second-Born, Not Second Best

Hindi ate, hindi kuya, hindi rin si bunso. 

Black sheep? Peacemaker? Troublemaker? On August 12, I was tagged in a social media post that said it's Middle Child Day. So if you are reading this and you are a middle child, I want to remind you that you are not forgotten. At the very least, there's a day that remembers us! Despite our place in the birth order, and the generalizations about what kind of people middle children are, I hope it ends with us.

Middle child feels

I'm writing this from the perspective of being the second-born among four daughters and as a mom who is about to give birth to my second child in a few weeks. Truth be told, my husband and I raised our firstborn with everything we have, and I feel sorry for my second born who, I'm sure, will never experience being the first and the only. 

One time, I was on my way to the hospital for a prenatal check-up when I just cried for the baby in my womb—I was sorry that unlike my first pregnancy, I wasn't taking a lot of photos of my bump, or taking notes of what I ate and how many times he kicked every day. Sorry, my son, that your father had to miss the first ultrasound; he needs to stay home to take care of your sister.

But I assured him, yes, that despite being a second child, and eventually a middle child, we won't love him any less.

As a middle child, I simply existed

Growing up, my eldest sister was the first granddaughter in the maternal side of our family. So, she got the coolest bike, a vast wardrobe, and she gets to eat whatever she liked. Based on old photos, my parents threw her grand birthday parties and gave her lots of toys, which she would eventually hand down to me.

Sadly, she was also my parents' guinea pig. They were on trial-and-error mode when it came to parenting her. To spank or not to spank? To allow or not to allow a boyfriend? To punish or not to punish? It wasn't easy being her. 

But when it came to me, the middle child, I thought my parents knew better. Corporal punishment didn't work? Then let's not do it anymore. I felt sad about my eldest sister, but I felt relieved that I never experienced getting spanked for doing something wrong. Well, it's because I grew up thinking I must never do anything wrong, or else I'll end up like my Ate.

My youngest sister, meanwhile, was raised with the royal treatment. Aside from being named after both my parents, she grew up the most loved and pampered (until now). During meals, she got to eat fried chicken wings, specially cooked for her, while we ate a piece of bangus or three pieces of lumpiang shanghai. She got first dibs on my mom's fast food take-out from her office, while we roll our eyes while eating a reheated ulam from lunch time. 

I, as far as I can remember, simply existed. I wanted to be the child whom my parents would feel worthy to be raised. 'Di ako magiging katulad ni ate, was at the back of my mind as I reap medals and fought to be salutatorian in elementary. I studied well and hard so I can get a scholarship in a science high school, and eventually in a state university. 'Di ako magiging katulad ni ate, and so I didn't. I also never get the chance to eat the fried chicken from my mom's take-out.

What they say about middle children 

Studies show that middle children tend to be independent because we get the least attention. After I graduated from college and landed my first job, I made sure to give a portion of my meager salary to my parents every month. It made me feel powerful, finally being able to provide something and contribute to the family. Still, it didn't merit me being called Ate. There's only one Ate in the family, and it's never going to be me.

Being independent though, is one of the benefits of middle children. I married a middle child, the second of three kids, and exercising our independence in raising our family is something we chose and loved to do. 

We are also known to be great negotiators because yes, we are in the middle. It's something that we can leverage on, but being the one who cares about both sides takes a toll on our mental health. It's not really a fun place to be in. 

As I prepare to welcome my second child, these reflections on my experiences as a middle child shape the promises I make to him.

For my second born, a middle child in waiting

Even though I have yet to met my son, there's one thing I assured him: You may be second-born, but you are not second best. I see you the way I see your Ate, and the siblings who will come after you. 

As a middle child, I may have experienced fending off for myself, studying on my own, desiring to be unlike my eldest sister, but as your mother, I will love you like you are the first and you are the only. I will help you become independent and empowered. I will listen to you, and be with you when you try to mediate between your siblings. I will see you the way I wanted to be seen.

I hope to be a mother whose love for my children knows no birth order. That their success and happiness isn't anchored on the generalizations and stereotypes put on them. 

But my son, in case you feel like I put your needs second or that I forget you, it's not your fault. Please tell me or your Tatay because nobody else in the world would understand what it feels like, and I promise you, we will make it better.

To my fellow parents, let’s ensure our middle children feel seen, valued, heard, and loved, as much as their siblings. It starts with us.

Judy Santiago Aladin is a section editor of Smart Parenting. She has a 5-year-old daughter, and a son on the way.

Read the heartbreaking childhood memories that Pinoy parents say they won't pass on to their kids here.