We all know it takes special parents to raise special needs children. But it doesn't only take special parents, it also takes special siblings. I know because my sister has Down Syndrome.
Because she is fourteen months older, there was not a day of my life that I wasn't Syble's sister. We potty trained together, played together, and went to school together. It didn't take long for me to notice she was different.
If you are raising a child with special needs, you know that you have a hard job. Some days are difficult, some days very rewarding. But your other children also have a hard job.
When they hear someone use "retarded" to describe a teacher (or movie, or outfit, or video game), they have to decide whether to laugh or walk away. When your son has to hold his brother's hand to cross the street to get to school, high school, he decides his love for his brother is more important than getting stared at by other people. When you miss something that is important to your daughter because her sister has another doctor's appointment, she learns that your love for her is just as strong for both of them, but that sometimes love means sacrifice.
Now with thirty years of experience as a "special sister" I can't describe to you how many blessings Syble has brought to my life. She has made me a better advocate for those who can't speak up for themselves. She has helped me care less about what other people think of me. And she has loved me unconditionally, teaching me to do the same for her.
And now it's my children's turn to learn similar lessons. The other day my three-year-old son sat in Aunt Syble's lap and wanted her to read him a book. She struggled to pronounce "Tidmouth Sheds" and "Topham Hatt." He asked her, "Aunt Syble, are you have trouble with the words?" And so he begins to process that she is different, and figure out how that makes him different. My special sister has become his special aunt.
How has knowing someone with special needs positively affected your family?
Photo by tillwe
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You'll never know how much this article meant to me – thank you for writing it.
My brother has Down Syndrome, and so much of what you said resonates with me. When I drop him off at the bus stop and see the other kids cut a wide path around him, I feel indignant. When someone uses the word "retard" or "retarded" as an insult (which is quite frequently in our society, unfortunately,) I am angry at the ignorance and intolerance toward people with special needs proliferated in our culture, and I'm passionate (and probably a little too zealous) about addressing that prejudice. Most of all, though, I look back at the moments before my brother when I, as a 12 or 13 year old trying to find my way, avoided the kids that were different in my school, or didn't say anything when other kids were making fun, and I feel ashamed of myself. And I'm determined that my daughters will be different – that by knowing my brother (and several other of our friends with special needs) they will be a voice for those who rarely get heard.
My brother is quite possibly the most genuinely loving, most selflessly giving, most incredible person I know. And knowing him makes me a better person.
Thanks for your comment Jen! Glad to hear about your relationship with your brother. It's not always easy, but I'm sure you're right, knowing him makes you a better person!
This is an incredible story, Sandra… and what a testimony.
I have a very special relationship with my autistic cousin. He is a very special person in my life, and he, too, considers me a special person in his. Not everyone understands him; not just his speech, but also his mannerisms. I have to help others adjust to him, as he enjoys sparkly things, belts, and watches, and will sometimes grab someone's arm to examine his or her watch!
I also have a degree in special education. Although I do not work, my heart is with working with students who have disabilities. The students in our youth group know that the word "retarded" is not tolerated! I am blessed to have a few students with special-needs in our youth group.
One thing I always remind my "other" students, and my children, is that the student with a handicap is a PERSON with a disability, not a "disabled person." That although someone may have special needs, he or she is a person first.
My sister was born severely mentally and physically handicapped due to a doctor's error during delivery. She was 6 years older than me, and unable to do anything for herself, including communicate. At a very young age I learned compassion, love, and empathy. I was able to feed, change and walk her by the time I was 8. I love her with all my heart and miss her so much now that I've moved away. Though my parents have suffered mentally and certainly financially, we all realize what a blessing she is to our family.
The Special Ed. department in our school was practically non-existent. When I was 13, I saw my sister in the hallway being yelled at by her teacher. I stepped up and said "I don't think she understands what you're saying." The teacher told me "When you are at home, you can take care of your sister." My mom was at the school in 5 minutes, and my sister never went back to school.
My family never got to go on regular vacations, we would call ahead to our favorite restaurant to get a private table, my parents could rarely go to events together…but I have a special set of skills that can only be gained by being the sister of Melanie.