Disclaimers:
A. I am not a sociologist on middle child trauma.
B. I am not claiming I was actually denied affection as a child. I'm just needy.
I am a middle child. I crave affirmation. I can be babied at times, yet much is expected of me. I live in a household where I am the odd one out. Both my older and younger sister suffer from physical and mental ailments that make them often priorities. My brother, being both youngest and the only boy, enjoys the benefits such as his own room.
I don't know exactly what the stereotypes of middle children are. We can sniff one another out, that I know. We feel for one another. I read on the internet that the middle children try and find a role that is not filled by their older siblings. This is true I believe, which is why middle children can find each other. We are all different, yet unified by our overwhelming desire to be set apart.
***
But enough about stereotypes. What has birth order done to me? Naturally, I am a person who is desperate for affection. I like being told "I love you." I need you to HUG ME, damn it. A few weeks ago I was at a Bible study. I was having a hard day. And I kept waiting for someone to like, put their hand on me and bless me. No one did. But as I left the apartment, the hostess (who I'd known for two weeks) comes out behind me.
"Are you ok?" she asked. I nod and take a deep breathe. She is an incredibly discerning person and had somehow magically read my soul. Then she said, "I love you." And she hugged me. A real warm hug and a real "I love you."
(Since then she and her family has done more for me than I can conceive. I barely know them. This is a picture of Christ-like hospitality. But I digress.)
This sort of pointed attention is what middle children often get less of growing up. This is not malicious. I am not accusing anyone in my family or any of my friends of emotional negligence. I think middle children come to realize their place in the family order and begin to adjust accordingly. I think they assume they're going to get less, so when any comes their way, it's a bigger deal.
***
When Kate (the older sister, but you knew that) was finishing highschool, being the oldest grandchild, all eyes were on her. Hours were spent in my Titi's kitchens as her choices were reviewed, and her skills considered. Whether that level of attention was something Kate wanted is debatable. But nevertheless, she got it. I graduated without much drama, and lost momentum by taking a semester off. Then I impressed everyone I knew by halfheartedly starting at a community college in January of all times. The eyes were not all on me. Once again, I don't know if I particularly regretted the lack of attention I received, but I did notice the lack.
I do have an uncle, Uncle Steven. He is a middle child. He will always take me aside to discuss my life. Middle children call out to middle children. Even across the generations. But for the most part, the middle child gets less parties, less excitement, and less questions. This is ok though. I am not pitching a fit. My birth order has saved me from being the experiment. Kate, as the first, was always the experiment. What went wrong with her was mildly adjusted and tried again on me. I do not mind my placement in the family. I am just stating the facts.
***
I am also in the unique place where I am sort of all the birth orders at once. I am a middle child, because I am. But, the age difference between me and my younger sister makes me the baby of my "set." (My family, being two sets of two.) However, personality-wise, it has been a long running joke that I am Kate's "big sister" because I am generally more organized, responsible, and I emotionally coached her through N*icky, J*ke, P*rker, D*an, Ch*rlie, and all the rest.
Thusly, at times I play all roles. This makes it even more complicated and turns me into a MEGA-middle-child because now I am "all things to all people." Or something like that. According to an article I just read on the internet from a website I don't recall, middle children are more flexible than oldests and youngests. We fulfill our duties. We bend to our older siblings and bow to the younger. The internet calls this "Middle Child Syndrome." I don't really know what that means, but it sounds cool.
***
But back to "I love you." I love quickly and easily. I fall in love with everyone. If I don't love you, you might be my nemesis. I'm not in the habit of just sort of feeling ehhhh about someone. If I know you, I probably care about you, worry about you, have hopes for your future, and generally just wish you health and prosperity. In my personal experience, the middle child is often the most ready and desperate for love. (Not that we always show it. We also have the toughest skins of any birth-order. We cry on the inside, dammit.)
I think middle children seek that affirmation. (Maybe that's just me. I didn't do a survey.) We want to be liked, because our older siblings were cooler than us. We want to be indulged, because our younger siblings stole our thunder. The internet studies I read that I'm not citing all said that people keep their birth-order personalities, even when grown and miles away from their family. I believe this too.
So, if you're not a middle child, love the middle children in your life. They probably got way less for Christmas ortheir first birthday than their older sister did. They probably didn't get their first A framed. Someone probably forgot to throw them a graduation party once. They ate their big sister's leftover toast and stole their baby brother's bottle. They bore the brunt of the handmedowns. And maybe, their first swim meet or whatever was overshadowed by the birth of that ominous baby brother. I'm not asking you to randomly hug all the middle children you know. They might not all like being hugged. But ask them some questions. Show affection. Even if you've never met their family and they haven't seen their siblings in years, somewhere deep inside that person is a middle child whose second-rate exploits were being ignored at age seven. Make that kid feel loved.
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