When I turned six, something happened that was to change my life dramatically: my sister was born.

Before she appeared, I quite naturally believed that my little self was the very center of the universe. My mother, my nanny, our tiny apartment - all seemed to exist for me alone. I never voiced my feelings, no, but such was my perception of the world around me. My mother, she was everything to me. I could not imagine a life without her in it. Instinctively, I needed her presence and love much like all human beings need air, food and sleep. I was quite comfortable with what love and tenderness I got from her, for I did not know that love could be any different. Even though Mother did care for me, in a way, at the time she gave birth to me she was too preoccupied yet with her young life, too busy with her own problems with Father, and I only took a secondary place in her heart. My sister, however, with her ill health and all those constant worries she caused, conquered Mother’s heart right away. Mother loved her passionately, with all her might, she simply couldn't get enough of her; it was then that my sensitive childish heart learned what Mother’s true love could be like, and with that discovery there came an understanding: this new love is not mine, and I have to put up with what’s left. It’s not that anyone ever offended or punished me, it’s just that I was... well, pushed aside. I always felt unwanted: there never was room enough in Mother’s arms for me, for at all times they were holding my little sister. I kept hearing all those “you’re a big girl”, “give in”, “give it to her”, “step aside”, “get down”…

Later on, I was to face much grief and sadness; like anyone else, I lost my near and dear ones and cried over dead feelings, but the memory of those first lessons of pain, sorrow and loneliness that my seven-year-old heart felt will stay vivid while I live.

When I turned six, an event occurred which radically changed my entire life: my little sister was born.

Up until my little sister's appearance, the center of my world had always automatically been my little "me." I thought that Mommy, and Nanny, and our cramped little apartment, all this had been created exclusively for me. Of course, I didn't think this in so many words, but that was my view of everything. "Everything" being basically Mommy. I couldn't imagine life without her. I demanded her presence and her love just as instinctively as I demanded air, food and sleep. And the love and affection she gave me were enough for me, because I had known nothing else. And yet, even though my mother of course loved me, at the time when I was born she was also still so wrapped up in her own young life and her own personal drama with my father that I ended up taking second place in her heart. And my sister - perhaps "thanks" to the fact that she was sickly and my mother was worried about her survival - immediately came to take first place in my mother's heart. My mother loved her with a passion, she literally doted on her, and so with the sensitive heart of a child I came to see what true motherly love could be like, and I came to see that I wasn't getting that kind of love, that I had to make do with whatever was left over. I didn't get mistreated, I didn't get punished - I just got pushed aside. I always felt unwanted: there was no room in my mother's arms for me to be hugged, because my little sister was always there. All the time I kept hearing the words, "You're bigger, let somebody else have a turn, give it back, get out of the way, get off..."

Like most people, I've had to face a lot of grief in life, in one way or another - losing loved ones, giving up cherished hopes and dreams - but these first lessons in grief, anguish and solitude, as experienced by my seven-year-old heart, are something I shall never forget.

When I turned six years old, something happened, which changed my whole world in the most drastic way: a baby sister walked into my life.
Before she appeared, my own little “I” had always seemed to me, however unwittingly, the center of the universe. It seemed that my mother, my nanny, our tiny and cramped apartment — all this was created for me and me alone. Of course, these weren’t conscious thoughts, but such was my perception of the world. My mother was “everything” to me. I could not imagine my life without her. Instinctively I demanded her presence and her love, just as I demanded air, nourishment and rest. And I was satisfied with whatever love and affection my mother gave me, because I had not known any other. I have no doubt that my mother loved me, but when I was born she was still full of her personal drama with my father and her still-young life, so I always took a back seat in her heart. And my sister — perhaps “thanks to” her sickliness and fragility— immediately became the most important person in mother’s life. Mother loved her zealously, adored her every move; and with my tender childish heart I saw what true mother’s love could be and that I didn’t have that love, that I had to settle for scraps. I wasn’t mistreated or punished, I was merely thrust aside. I always felt like a fifth wheel: there was no place for me in mother’s arms, they always held my sister. I constantly heard the words: “You’re bigger, let her have it, move aside, make room…”
In any case, I’ve seen my share of suffering, just as anyone else: I’ve lost loved ones and buried feelings of the deepest kind, but those first lessons of sorrow, solitude and yearning that my seven-year-old heart had to endure will remain with me forever.

When I was six, my life changed dramatically. My little sister was born.
Before this blessed event I somehow believed my little ego was the center of the universe. I believed that my mother and my nurse and our small flat were all mine. Of course, I did not think about it with words like these, but such was my attitude. And my mother was indeed everything for me. I could not imagine my life without her. I instinctively felt the need for her presence and love, just as much as I had the need for air, food, and sleep. My mother loved and cuddled me. And this was enough for me because I never knew any other love and care. Of course, my mother did love me. Still, when I was born, she was too busy with her own life. She was young. She was having a personal drama with my father. I held only second place in her heart. And my sister got the first place at once. Probably, this was due to her delicate health. Mother was always worried about her life and came to love her passionately. She just couldn't get enough of my sister. And then I realized with my keen child's heart what a real mother's love is. I also realized that I was not loved like that and I had to go along with what was left. I was not offended. I was not punished. I was just … moved aside. I felt they didn't need me. There was no room for me in my mother's arms. The place was occupied by my sister. All the time I was told: "You're big, give way, give back, step aside, get off…"
For better or for worse, I had to go through many things in my life. Grief and sorrows. Loss of loved ones. End of dear feelings. But I will never forget these first lessons of sadness, anxiety, and loneliness, which I have learned with my child's heart.

Something happened when I was six which utterly changed my whole life: my sister was born.
Before she arrived, my own little “me” naturally seemed the centre of the my world. It seemed that Mummy, and Nanny, and our cramped flat had all been created for me alone. Of course, I didn’t think this in words, but that was the way I perceived the world. Mummy in particular was everything to me. I could not imagine a life without her in it. I also instinctively demanded her presence and love in the same way as air, food and sleep. And the love and care my mother gave me was enough for me, for I knew no other. However, although Mummy did love me, at the time I was born she was still too full of her personal drama with my father, with her own young life, so that I took second place in her heart. But my sister (perhaps “thanks” to her liability to illness, and fear for her life) at once took first place in Mummy’s heart. Mummy loved her passionately, literally could not get enough of her; and so, in my child’s soul, I realised what true mother love could be, and that this love was not for me; I had to be content with the left-overs. I was not ill-treated, I was not punished; I was just pushed into the background. I always felt unwanted: there was no place for me in Mummy’s arms, my little sister was always lying there. I was always hearing the words: “You’re a big girl now, give way, hand it over, move away, get off!» One way or another, I have had much grief in my life, as has everyone: losing those close to me, having to bury feelings dear to me; but I shall never forget those first lessons of grief, sadness and loneliness, which my seven-year-old soul endured.

When I turned six, something happened which radically changed my life - I acquired a sister.
Until she came on the scene, it seemed the world revolved around "little me". It seemed that my mother and my nanny and our cramped flat were all created just for me. Of course, I hadn’t put this into so many words, but that was my impression of the world. My mother was everything to me. I could not imagine life apart from her. I required her presence and her love as instinctively as I did air, food and sleep. And the love and affection my mother gave me was quite sufficient, as I knew no other. However, although my mother of course loved me, her young life was, at the point when I was born, too bound up with her personal love affair with my father, which meant I occupied second place in her affections. Whereas my sister, perhaps thanks to her frailty and to the worry over whether she would survive, immediately occupied pride of place in my mother’s heart. Mother loved her passionately. She literally could not get enough of her. And with my sensitive childish heart I understood what genuine maternal love could be - and understood that this was not directed at me and that I needed to make do with what was left over. No-one hurt or reprimanded me. I was simply moved out of the way. I always felt superfluous - there was no place for me in my mother’s arms as my sister was always already there. Constantly, I heard the words, “You’re a big girl, let her have a turn, give it back, move up, get down from there…”
One way or another I have, like everyone, seen plenty of grief in my life. I have lost loved-ones and buried cherished affections. But I shall never forget those first lessons in grief, longing and loneliness suffered by my seven-year-old heart.

After my sixth birthday an event has occured, which radically changed my life - my sister was born. Before her birth my little self-ego reluctantly seemed to me as the center of the universe. It seemed to me that my mother, our nanny and our small compacted flat, all of it was designed exclusively for myself. Indeed, I was not thinking of it in words, but such was my perception of the world. In general my mom was everything. I could not imagine my life without her. I also instinctively demanded her presence and her love just like I need air, water and sleep. And this love and tenderness that my mother gave me was enough, since there was not any other love or tenderness that I knew of. However, despite the fact that my mother loved me, during that period when I was born her life was yet filled too much with personal drama between my father and herself, as she was still young, therefore I took the secondary place in her soul. My sister, on the other hand, perhaps due to her sensitivity and anxiety for our mother's life, immediately ranked first in the mother's heart. My mother came to love her so passionately that she couldn't have enough of her. And so, my sensitive heart of a child made me realize what a real love of a mother is like, and I understood that I don't have such love and that I should be happy with the "last piece of pie" that I get. I was neither insulted nor punished, I was only pushed back. I always felt like an outsider - there was no place for me in my mother's embraces, since my sister always occupied them. I always heard the words such as: "You're big, let me win, give me this, move over, get up...".
One way or another, just like everyone else I had to experience sorrowful moments in life such as losing the close ones, giving up on precious feelings, but I will never forget those first lessons of sorrow, grief and loneliness that my seven-year old heart experienced.

When I turned six, my sister was born, and it was a significant event that completely changed my whole life.

Before she was born, my inner ego inadvertently seemed to be the center of the universe. It seemed to me that everything, my mother, my nanny and our tiny cubbyhole, were there for me exclusively. I certainly did not sound those thoughts out loud, but definitely it was my perception. My Mama was all to me. I could not have imagined my life without her in it. I instinctively demanded her presence and love just as I needed air to breathe, food and sleep. And that love and care that my mother gave me, I had enough, because I did not know other. Although my mother surely loved me, at the time I was born, she was still full of her personal drama with my father and she was living her own young life. Thus, I still felt like I took only second place in her heart. But my sister had instantly won the prominent spot in my Mom’s heart, possibly due to her weak health which made everyone worry for her life. My Mom passionately fell in love with her, and she literally doted on her. Deep in my sensitive little heart I recognized what real mother’s love could be, that I was not loved the same way, and that I had to be satisfied with what was left for me. No one ever wronged or punish me. I constantly felt neglected and not wanted, and my mother could never hold me in her arms since she was handling my baby-sister. I constantly heard from people, “You are a big girl, let her have it, give it to her, move aside, get off it, etcetera.”

Anyway, I faced a lot of grief in my life, just like anybody else. I outlived my loved ones and I had to hide my precious feelings. But, I would never forget how I felt as a seven-year-old girl, and nothing hurt more than those early lessons of distress, anguish and loneliness that I felt so deeply in my heart.

When I turned six, there was an event that radically changed my life: my sister was born.
Before she was born, my little "ego" involuntarily seemed to me to be the center of the world. It seemed like everything was specifically created for me, mom, the babysitter and our small apartment. Certainly, I did not put this thought into words but this was my perception of the world around me. Mom in general was “everything” to me. I could not imagine my life without her. I also instinctively demanded her presence and love, as air, food and sleep. The love and tenderness which mom gave me was enough for me because I did not know any other types of love. Although mom loved me when I was born, she was too busy with her personal drama with my father and her youth. So, I was the second on her list of priorities. My sister, probably “thanks” to her sickness and my mother’s constantly worrying for her life, had taken first place in my mother’s heart. Mom started to love her more than anything. She literally could not get enough of her. So finally with my sensitive child’s heart, I understood how a mother’s love can be. Also, I understood that I did not have her love and that I should be happy with what is left over. I was neither hurt nor punished only rejected. I felt like an outsider all the time. There was no place in my mom’s arms for me, that place was always taken by my little sister. All I ever heard was: “You are older, let your sister have it, get out of the way, scoot…"
Anyhow, one way or another, I have suffered a lot in my life. I have lost my friends and family. I will never forget how I buried my feelings. These first lessons of grief, melancholy and loneliness tested my seven-year old heart.

After I passed my sixth birthday something happened that changed my entire life to the core: my sister was born.

Before she made her entrance my little ego unselfconsciously appeared to me as the center of the world. It seemed that Mother, nanny and our small, crowded apartment – all had been created exclusively for my sake. Naturally, I did not put these thoughts into words, but such was the way I perceived the Universe. Mom was my “be-all.”

I could not envision living outside of her own being. I required her presence and love as instinctively as I required air, food, sleep. And as much love and caring as she gave me was enough for me, for I knew no other. Mother loved me, to be sure; however, at the time of my birth she had been still too full of her personal drama involving my father, too caught up in her own young life, so that my place in her soul was just second-tier.

As for my sister – perhaps thanks, so to speak, to her being a sickly baby and Mother’s worrying about her survival – my sister instantly took the front in Mom’s heart. Mom fell in love with her – passionately, she literally worshipped her; and that’s when I comprehended in my own heart, that of a perceptive child, what real mother love is like, and that I failed to get it and had to be content with leftovers.

I wasn’t being harmed, wasn’t being punished, I was just – pushed aside. Continually, I was made to feel redundant: I had no room in Mom’s arms, they always enclosed my little sister. All the time I would hear: “You are older, give in, give back, pull away, get off…”

One way or another, I met with a lot of grief in my life, just like everybody else – I lost loved ones, had to bury deep affections - but those first lessons in unhappiness, longing and loneliness taken in by my seven-year-old heart I will never forget.


The Days of My Life" by Tatiana Shchepkina-Kupernik

When I turned six, an event occurred that fundamentally changed my entire life: my sister was born.
Before she appeared, little “I” instinctively seemed to me to be the centre of the world. It seemed that mum, and nanny, and our cosy little flat – all had been created just for me. Of course, I didn’t think this in words, but such was my mindset. Mum was generally “everything”. I didn’t imagine a life beyond her. I also instinctively demanded her presence and love, just as I demanded air, food and sleep. And that love and affection that mum gave me was enough, because I didn’t know anything else. However, although mum obviously loved me, when I was born she was still a little too preoccupied by her personal drama with my father, by her young life, so that I took a back seat in her heart. But my sister – perhaps “thanks to” her ill health, the fears for her life – instantly occupied pole position in mum’s heart. Mum loved her passionately, literally doted on her; and so, with the keen heart of a child, I understood what real motherly love could be, and I understood that there was no such love for me, that I needed to content myself with leftovers. I wasn’t insulted, I wasn’t punished, I was just…pushed aside. The whole time I felt unwanted: there was no room for me in my mother’s arms; my little sister was always there. The whole time I heard the words: “You’re a big girl, give in, give up, step aside, get out…”
One way or the other, just like anyone else, I’ve come to see a lot of grief in this life: the loss of loved ones, the burying of cherished feelings, but I’ll never forget these first lessons in grief, anguish and loneliness experienced by my seven-year-old heart.

Russian source text: "The Days of My Life" by Tatiana Shchepkina-Kupernik
I was already six when something happened, which fundamentally changed my whole life: my sister was born.
Before her arrival, my diminutive "I" unwittingly seemed to be the center of the world. Mama, Nanny, and our cramped apartment: everything seemed to exist exclusively for me.
Of course, I didn't formulate those words, but this was my perception of the world. In essence, Mama was "my all". I could not fathom life without her.
As naturally as I demanded air, food, and sleep, so I demanded her love and attention.
And that love and those caresses which mama gave to me were sufficient because I didn't know any differently.
However, even though mama loved me, of course, because her life was still too full of her own personal drama with my father and her own young life at the time I was born, I took second place in her heart.
But my sister — perhaps "thanks" to her being a sickly baby and the anxiety over her well-being — immediately captured first place in mama's heart.
Mama loved her passionately and literally couldn't help doting on her. And this, I understood with my sensitive child heart, was perhaps the very essence of mama's love. I also understood that I did not have this love and that I must be content with the leftover crumbs.
I was neither being hurt nor punished — simply shunted aside. I always felt superfluous: I had no place in mama's embraces — my sister was always enveloped in them. The whole time I heard the words: "You are big, stop, give it back, move, tears..."
As with any life in one way or another, I have witnessed much sorrow in my life — loss of loved ones, suppression of cherished feelings — but these first lessons of grief, sorrow, and loneliness, which my 7-year old heart felt, I will never forget.

As I turned six, something happened that drastically changed my entire life: my sister was born.

Before her appearance I unconsciously saw my little "me" in the center of the universe. It seemed that my mother and the nanny and our narrow flat - everything was there just for me. Of course, I didn't realise this with words, but this was my attitude. Mother was everything at all. Living outside her was not to imagine. I demanded her presence and love as instinctively as I demanded air, food and sleep. And the love and caress my mother gave me were enough, because I had not known any other. Though my mother loved me of course, but as I was born, she was still full of her personal drama with my father, with her young life, so I took only a secondary place in her heart. While the sister, maybe "thanks" to her frailty and all the concerns about her life - took at once the principal position in the mother's heart. My mother fell in love with her obsessively, was simply all over her; and I realised with my keen little heart how the real mother’s love can be, and that I did not have that love, and that I had to do with the scraps. They did not treat me ill, they did not punish me, they simply - pushed me aside. I felt myself needless all along: there was no place for me in my mother's arms, there was always my little sister there. I heard it all the time: "You are a big girl, let her, give her, step aside, climb down..."

Anyway, I saw, like any other, much grief in my life: losing relatives, burying dear sentiments, but I will never forget these first lessons of grief, anguish and loneliness, that were given to my seven-year-old heart.