A Letter to My Daughter, My Son’s Biggest Fan

Today was, as you call it, a “Mommy Day.” I don’t work on Mondays, so we played and snuggled and went to music class and ate lunch at Panera. Then, we picked up “Col Col” from preschool. You burst into the classroom, thrilled to see your big brother, and he proudly announced “This is my friend, Grace!”

You two giggled and ran around, and didn’t listen to Mommy, and giggled some more. I love seeing you two together (even when you’re being a little naughty) because I didn’t know if it would ever be this way.

You see, my darling little one, when you were born, Colin was a couple of months away from being diagnosed with autism. I pretended it was OK that he didn’t even seem to notice that I was pregnant, that he showed no interest when we read him the books about becoming a big brother, and that I never got the “older sibling holding the younger sibling” picture.

But, if I’m being honest, it broke my heart.

Colin’s reaction to you went beyond disinterest. In fact, for the first month after you came home, your brother would literally throw up at the sight of you (Mommy and Daddy were pretty busy cleaning up throw up between a toddler in distress and a newborn with reflux). It was a confusing time for all of us, as we tried to adjust to becoming a family of four, and struggled to understand what was going on with your big brother.

Fortunately, with the encouragement of a wonderful speech therapist, he was referred for testing and was diagnosed with autism when you were only a few months old. We were able to get him into an amazing preschool where he could receive the supports and services he needed.

I was in love with you from the start, and was soaking up every last second of newborn cuddles, but I also spent the first several months of your life wracked with guilt. I felt guilty that I had made a decision to have another baby, when my precious little boy was throwing up and breaking out into hives every night.

I felt guilty that I had to disrupt your nap schedule to drive half an hour each way to your brother’s special school. I felt guilty every time I set you down next to the car in your car seat so I could load him in first, since he couldn’t be trusted not to bolt into traffic.

I saw other parents loading their infants in first while their toddlers stood next to them, and every single time it made me want to cry.

I also was scared. I knew how likely it was that you would be diagnosed with autism as well, and I analyzed every little thing that you did. When you locked eyes with me and smiled right on time, I felt a huge weight come off of my shoulders. You do things when all of the books say you will; it’s effortless, and I marvel at it each and every time.

As you were hitting milestones, and dazzling us with your development, your brother ignored you.

I’m sorry to say this honey, but it’s just the truth. For almost the first year of your life, he never sat closer than a few feet away from you. But slowly, slowly, you started getting through to him.

Grace, you loved your brother right away.

And what’s more, you didn’t take no for an answer. As soon as you could move, you were moving toward him. Whatever Colin was interested in, you were interested in. And little by little, I saw signs that you two were getting closer.

I’ll never forget the first time Colin included you. He was playing his beloved golf, and grabbed you a club and ball. He proudly announced “Gracie’s turn!”. He may not have wanted to touch you yet, but he wanted to interact with you. This was a huge breakthrough, and my heart just about burst.

From that day on, you’ve only grown closer. You are Colin’s best friend, and he is yours.

Your brother has absolutely flourished, and is a happy, smart, hilarious boy, who is making friends, and enjoying school, and also just happens to be on the autism spectrum. We can certainly thank all of his therapists, and teachers, and the fact that he’s just naturally so resilient and amazing, but we would be remiss not to thank another person who’s done so much for him. You. You, my little one.

You are hilarious, and bold, and sweet. You’re way too smart for your own good, and love giving your brother new ideas for the two of you to team up and make mischief.

You’re not even two years old, and you’ve already changed your brother’s life.

My daughter, you’ve not only made our family complete, you’ve saved our family.

I want you to know how much I love you, and how thankful I am that you’ve come into our lives. Now, if the two of you could start listening to Mommy a little more, that would be nice too.

Written by, Kelly M

My name is Kelly. I am the proud mother of Colin, who is four, and Grace, who is almost two. I am also a wife, an optometrist, and a lover of wine and bad reality t.v. (once the kids are finally asleep).

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