“Do You Love Him More?” – The Words That Broke Me

Those words cut deep. They were painful to hear and even harder to process.

I don’t have favourites. My children are my world—each unique, each deeply loved. Their needs are different, but that doesn’t mean one child’s needs outweigh the other’s. My son requires more of my time, more of my attention, more of my energy. But my daughter? She needs me too.

I remember the first time she told me she thought I loved my son more than her. I froze. My heart shattered.

I immediately reassured her: That’s not true. How could you think that? You are both a part of me. But deep down, I understood. I could see her point. I spend more time with my son because we homeschool. I watch over him more closely because I worry—will he be able to handle this? Will he manage that?

The truth is, because she is neurotypical, life comes easier to her. Speech, reading, making friends—all things that my son works so hard for, things I naturally support him with. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need me too.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my own childhood, and a memory keeps surfacing. I once told my mother that I felt alone—that my parents had each other, my brothers had each other, and I was just… there. I remember the ache of that loneliness. And now, I wonder—am I being given an opportunity to heal my inner child through my daughter?

She is a force—passionate, driven, smart, courageous. She will carve her own path in this world. But I want her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is no competition between her and her brother. Yes, I spend more time with him because of his schooling, but my love for both of them is immeasurable. It has no limits, no conditions, no favourites.

So, I find small ways to connect with her, to show her she is just as seen, just as loved. Every night, as she listens to her audiobook, I sit beside her and massage her feet. I hold her tiny toes, willing the stress of the day to leave her body, sending her into peaceful sleep.

For so long, my energy has been focused on ensuring my son’s success. But now, I turn my attention to this radiant young woman beside me.

And as I gently trace the chipped nail polish on her toes, I am not just loving her—I am healing the little girl in me who once felt the weight of the universe’s loneliness.

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