Dear Addie,
This week, I watched a video of a sweet boy with Down syndrome greeting his older brother, who was returning home from college for the holidays. The video captured an overwhelming display of affection, love, and joy that siblings with special needs share. I would've challenged anyone watching it not to smile at such a heartwarming sight—it was truly touching. Being it was we brought Clara home this week from college for the holidays and had a different, not bad but different reaction it got me thinking about our perception and actions of showing joy and love on this journey.
Allow me to explain.
Unpredictability on this journey is not exactly your friend or for many others perhaps following the same path. It can lead to a fair amount of anxiety, making "living in the moment" or any intended good surprise quickly feel negative, and in extreme cases, trigger a fight or flight response. For this reason, there is a significant amount of discussion about visitors when they are planning to come, to ease the transition into the inevitable change in routine that comes with having others around—even if they are your beloved siblings. Additionally, the lack of physical connection (which is not completely absent—it is just minimal and on your terms) shapes our understanding and perception of affection, love, and joy in a different way than depicted in the video I watched.
This week, after much discussion about big sister Clara coming home, we both went to pick you up from school. You were sitting on the floor, focused on folding skills when we arrived. Clara said, "Hi Addie!" which prompted you to look up briefly before quickly looking down again and avoiding eye contact for close to a solid minute. Eventually, you got up, gathered your things, and headed out for the day without any direct interaction.
This is a common scenario for us, as you've been focused on the upcoming change we mentioned, and when faced with the moment you needed some time to process it. Some might find it disappointing that there wasn't a joyful, exuberant reaction, and while everyone would love to see that, we understand that it's not personal—it's just part of your process. Heck - "don't take it personally" would be a great tagline for this journey. But I digress.
Later that day, when big brother Gabe came home, he was excited to show Clara—his biggest fan—a recent show he had performed in on the TV. You were in the dining room, just a short distance away, playing with Play-Doh. If I were a betting gal, I would have thought that once the show started, you would have retreated to your room due to the familiar auditory assaults that usually accompany such a show: unfamiliar music, people talking into microphones, and the audience clapping in an auditorium setting. These sounds often feel like your nemesis. Much to our surprise, you grabbed your headphones and headed straight toward the living room, plopping down in a sea of pillows and blankets beside Clara to watch Gabe's show. You glanced over at Clara a few times with a smile as if to show your delight that she was home and as for me I was just blessed with an image of all three of my babies in one place together - something so missed when your babies start flying the nest in their college years.
This was our grand welcome, our joy, and unconditional love among siblings. It may have looked very different and like nothing compared to that video I watched, but deep down inside, it felt all the same.
Addie, this week we brought Clara home from college for the holidays, and you showed us in your very own special way how happy you were to have her back. It may not have seemed like much to others, but to us, it meant everything.
Welcome home, Clara!
Love,
Mom
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