I would trade anything to be her. My little sister. I suppose, looking in on my family, she destroyed us. My mum tells me she could feel the seizures in her tummy. Every day. Multiple times. And just last year she was diagnosed (my mum) with fibromialgia because of my sister. Libby (name changed) was born 12 years ago, and I loved her from the very beginning. I was told she was different, but to me she was perfect. She was just my sister, and that’s what she’ll always be. I look past her disability most of the time, and I know her character. She is pure, no sin, no harm. Her brain stopped developing at six months, but she’s as big and slightly weighty as a 12 year old. Then, 9 years ago, my other sister, Maria (name also changed), was born. She was diagnosed with the same condition, let me call it “No name”. Libby and Maria are the only two people who have their condition. Epilepsy, microlicensephaly, scoliosis… the list goes on. I dream that I wake up and hear Libby saying “Bella…. Bella….” and I know she is. She knows who I am. She knows my name. And the biggest smile she gives all day is when mum tells her, “Let’s go get Bella”. She’s still alive, and going strong. She’s my little tough cookie.
Well, that’s my story. I am the miracle child, although I have some bowel disorders that we’re trying to figure out, and my eyes are the wrong shape, and I have anxiety problems, but I am so sad with what my sister goes through. I would literally do anything to change us over.
When you see her in the shop, don’t diss her. She’s the same as you, but with some added specialties. She’s perfect. You have to be jealous. If you stare at her one more time, I feel like punching you. But that can’t be quite ‘right’ in a public space. If you ask me about my family, sometimes I say I’m an only child. Sometimes I say I have one sister, sometimes two. It depends on how I judge you. I know it’s not fair, but some days I just don’t want to talk about my family life. So please just give me a smile, not sympathetic, just “how ya do?”.
Have a good day, respect and love!
Growing up with Cerebral Palsy, there are certain things I’ve just had to deal with. Children staring at me in shopping centres and asking what’s wrong with me, people assuming that I’m either tired or drunk when they speak to me on the phone because of my speech and most common, people who ask…
when’d you send this, dear?
Inside cover of a really old prayer book. It belonged to my grandmother.