Defining 'Special'

I think every first born who is old enough to do so, anticipates the birth of a subsequent sibling with a bit of anxiety, excitement and wonder.

I know that when Alyssa was just three and a half and was anticipating the arrival of a baby sister, she probably pictured a chubby, cheerful two year old who was ready to play with ponies with her and watch movies and have fun.

She did not expect the sickly, screamy little creature that stayed in the hospital for eleven days after birth. She didn’t anticipate a mother who was coming and going all day every day in those first couple of weeks, who was so tired and overwhelmed by the NICU and the needs of her family at home that she sort of lost her mind for a little while.

She definitely didn’t expect a little sister who wouldn’t walk for the first twenty-nine months of her life, who wouldn’t interact in any significant way with her until she was at least three years old.

None of us anticipated this.

But we got it. And we rolled with it. We barreled through Olivia’s first few months of screaming. We started therapies and found therapists who told us that Alyssa was going to be Olivia’s greatest teacher and who let her play with the toys they’d brought for O’s therapy sessions.

I held a screaming O in one arm and read to a quiet, thoughtful Alyssa who was snuggled in the other arm.

And they grew and Olivia started crawling and walking and talking and interacting.

These days Olivia interacts with her sister in much the same way any other five year old would with her nine year old sibling. There are squabbles, there is competition for my attention.

Alyssa mentioned at the beginning of the year that there is a boy in her class who has special needs. She actually used the phrase ‘special needs.’ I asked her what that meant.

She shrugged and said, “He has a teacher who is in our class who works with just him.”

That was it. He had an aide and that signified to Alyssa that he had special needs. I’m sure she’d heard those words thrown around our house often in the last five years.

I asked her if she realized that Olivia also has special needs.

She tilted her head and said, “Why?”

I tried to explain about chromosomes and how Olivia is missing part of one of hers. Alyssa didn’t quite get it. I reminded her of O’s early issues, the late crawling, the late walking and talking. I reminded her about all the therapists.

She shrugged and said, “Ehh, so what if she didn’t walk as soon as Jaxon did. She’s still a really annoying little sister.”

My heart burst with love in that moment. I wanted to high-five her and say, “Sing it, sister!”

Because that right there is what I always pictured when I thought about a sibling for Alyssa. I wanted her to have an annoying little sister.

And she does. She treats Olivia the way most other nine year olds treat their five year old siblings. With indulgence one minute and distain the next. I wouldn’t have it any other way.