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Savannah loves this photo of her with her siblings.

When parenting a child with a disability many people offer advice or opinions from their perspective of what would be best for a family like ours. People are not shy to give voice to the potential problems which they believe we face. Specifically, people assume that when non disabled siblings are raised with a sibling with a disability, it will cause some level of hardship in some way to the non disabled sibling. The idea that non disabled siblings will be responsible for their disabled sibling, is frowned upon. This blog post, like most posts that I write, is about giving insight into our lives in the hope of giving other families the vocabulary to speak their truth.

When Michael and I became pregnant with our second child Talisa, we had no fears about anything concerning the new baby. It might have been due to my new-found faith or it might have been that I was still in the honeymoon phase of my marriage. When Talisa was born unlike her elder sister, she was not a person with a disability. She was a demanding baby though and tested my resolve in many ways. But I was happy to have two children. We were very hopeful about the future for our family.

Sadly few people shared our delight. Some people thought that they should educate me about all the problems Talisa was going to experience because of her relation to Savannah. One person thought that Talisa would likely have poor speech because Savannah had a speech impediment. Another piece of unsolicited advice was that it was very unfair to Talisa to be born into a family with a person with a disability as she would be “burdened” with her sister. Someone else suggested that I should limit the time that the girls spent together. The list goes on.

Eli shares Savannah’s passion for gorillas. She was in awe of the wind-up gorilla toy he gave her for Christmas.

In hindsight I think most people were expressing their own fears about parenting a child with a disability. Of course, it was challenging. Especially in the early days when in many areas of development, Savannah and Talisa were on the same level. Even though there was a six-year age gap between them. While adjusting to mothering two girls with different demands, I was also trying to learn all about Savannah’s diagnosis. Savannah was a diagnosed with cerebral palsy. She was non speaking and had other issues that I could not quite understand. She was only diagnosed as being an autistic person when she eight years old. I can only describe the first three years of Talisa’s life as the ‘twilight years’.

By the time Eli came along we were a little more settled as a family unit. Both girls were besotted with him. Together all three formed their own unique relationship. I know many of my friends who have a child with a disability and non disabled children, often testify that having more than one child is the best thing they did. For those parents who choose to only parent their child with a disability, I understand that too. Raising children today is demanding in many ways, and at different times I struggled with the demands of being a parent. More so I struggled with the enormity of Savannah’s special needs. Please do not ask me if it is better to have more children or not after having a child with a disability. There is no better or worse when it comes to children. It is just about working out how to be the best for yourself and for your child or children.

Talisa reminds me that some things are not deep psychological issues. Some things are just what siblings do.

So fast forward to the present day, when Savannah is twenty-two years old, Talisa is sixteen years old and Eli is eleven years old. Talisa and Eli have some responsibility for Savannah.  I was aware when both children began assuming certain areas of care for her. While those old voices sometimes echoed in my mind that my younger children shouldn’t be responsible for their sister, my children kept me in check.

My first check was a few years ago when Talisa spoke at an awareness event. She said that she does not often tell people she has a sister who is a person with a disability because she does not want to hear “Oh shame.” She continued to explain that when she meets the non disabled siblings of friends, she never responds with “Oh, shame”. She is a cheeky girl. Her point simply being that Savannah is just her sister like all other sibling relationships. While their relationship has different nuances to most siblings, she does not appreciate that “Oh, shame” is the response it should elicit.

A few more checks came as Eli grew. Being a boy, he easily slips into the role of protector. He enjoys teaching Savannah pranks and jokes. He helps her with: tying her shoelaces to assisting her with her communication software to exercising with her. When Michael is late in returning home, Eli helps Savannah with her bed time routine. (She does not stay asleep whenever I help her to bed, and somehow sleeps better when Michael or Eli put her to bed). I had to stop thanking him for what he does when he asked me to “stop making their sibling stuff awkward with my mum stuff”.

In homes like ours, where one person is vulnerable and will remain so for the rest of their lives, the levels of care and protection that develop between the family members are unique and precious. Few people outside this type of dynamic will understand it. We are always thinking about what might be too much for the non disabled siblings as far as being responsible goes, against what is vital to building strong sibling bonds. For many families siblings are more trustworthy than a professional care giver or another adult. In truth, one day they will be the only people who will oversee the care of their sibling with a disability.

This week as Savannah began her new therapy program, we created a group on WhatsApp for the team so that we can easily transfer information between home and therapy. Both Talisa and Eli are included in that group. As her siblings they share all her milestone moments with her as well as her day-to-day life. It is offensive to them when they are excluded from important areas of Savannah’s life. Talisa asked me once why people make a big deal about her role in Savannah’s future? She said that most siblings have some level of care and loyalty towards each other. How can anyone expect her to be detached from Savannah’s life when they both become adults?

Little brother is watching. Eli keeps a watch on  Savannah’s YouTube browsing.

In raising our children, we did not heed the advice of anyone who thought that Savannah would be a burden to her siblings. We simply raised children in a home with a family that loved each other. Like all children, Talisa and Eli go through all the usual issues and triumphs of life as they grow. They have their own challenges, their own dreams and their own goals. Unlike other children they learnt a little something about tolerance and patience early in life.  I think the best lesson they learnt is about accepting people for who they are. They are not angels or better than other children. They are simply siblings who get to understand loyalty and love much quicker than most.

For all parents of children with disabilities, we live with a constant fearful thought that we try to ignore. What will happen to our vulnerable children when we die?  When we have more than one child, none of our children will be alone in the world. Especially our child with a disability.

Each family is different and every sibling deserves a life that is true to who they are. As parents we are responsible for building that life. Please think about that when you meet a family raising both disabled and non disabled children.

If you found this post helpful, you might also enjoy reading about Being Courageous Even In Uncertainty.

Today Savannah is reminiscing about the wedding last year when I was the MC and I danced a special dance.

Now that I work from home, it is a mixed blessing.

My children and my husband love having me around and I find we are using our time more productively. I wake up everyday excited to meet the day. I can’t remember ever feeling like this in my whole life.

For those families who have a child with a disability, you will know why this dynamic is precious. My daughter Savannah is witty and funny and kind and thoughtful. She is also different in her way of thinking and feeling.
She is my ever-long learning course. Teaching me all that I don’t know and often after working hard at understanding her point of view, I come back to the realisation that I just can’t reach all the depths that her mind wanders too. As an autistic person, she sees life in a way that I work very hard to understand; only to find that I fail.

So often I fail. My struggle to keep up with the “normal” world collides with trying to grasp her view; and I become frustrated, and angry at myself. At her. At this life and it’s persistent demands. Yet, I have to live in both worlds. I have to try so hard to keep up with life so that I can be part of it’s rat race and try to earn a living to provide for all our children.

Governing all that we do, like so many families like us, is that we must try very hard to earn more than a living.
We must provide for Savannah long after we are gone. And that is what keeps me awake till the early hours or gets me out of bed long before the sun rises. Working from home while also being a caregiver, a companion and all that encompasses being Savannah’s mother, is my “more than a conqueror” daily challenge.

If I could stay at my desk all day, I would not eat or drink because truly writing feeds me like nothing else does. But my reverie is broken every time when Savannah calls me. Sometimes what she needs is reasonable and makes sense that she called me. Other times, she calls me to tell me something so far off base from the moment that we are in, that I throw my hands up in the air and proclaim out loud that I don’t need to know the tit bit of information that she is supplying. She doesn’t grasp that I can’t know what goes on on her head and so we tussle with memories until I either get what she is on about or I give up and walk away.

For example, a month ago she suddenly jolted to March 2014 and for several days, she recounted everything she remembered about that time. Everything. Details like what earrings I wore and who we saw. People who I have long forgotten. She remembered their earrings, their watches and who said what, when and where. As I fight back the urge to weep for what feels like the hundredth time that she calls me to say something that I cannot see the relevance in; I ask myself if anyone else lives in so many spaces all at once? And if so do they survive themselves?

Right now, I am in the middle of writing about Domestic Abuse for the UNWomen’s Campaign and it takes me back to times in my life that I have closed the door on. Yet, now at forty, the shock of what I was allowed to be privy too as a child, washes me afresh. I have several other writing projects underway and a new client who I have to do some research for. So my mind is a little more than preoccupied on a daily basis.

Then Savannah calls. Again. Not being sure if she needs physical assistance or if it is just another newsflash from the past; I walk to where she is because that’s my life.

Looking back over the years, I’m most in awe that while I was trying to glue my heart back together as a teenager who learnt too much about the hypocrisy of the adults around her, I somehow kept my sanity as I became Savannah’s mother. Over these twenty-two years I’ve listened to the same story that my heart didn’t have the words to utter when Savannah was little. Parents grappling with the heartbreak of the unknown as their child begins life in a world designed to set itself against them. The most competent of people, crumble as they understand the force that will be required to help their children live their best lives.

Each time, I’m stunned anew that a girl like me became Savannah’s mum. What was God thinking to trust me with her? It has never been easy. There are days when I wish I did not know of the things I have to know. But I survived and I have learnt how to thrive right where I am. Having Savannah at eighteen was probably the worst thing to happen in a life already falling to pieces. Yet years later I understood that being Savannah’s mother saved my life. Who knows what I would have become, had I not have to fight for her in all the ways imaginable and unimaginable? Would I have known how to fight for myself or for that matter would I have known that I could change the course of my life?

Even now as I try to juggle housekeeping, children, writing, keeping up with everything, Savannah calls. She is now remembering December 2017. She wants to play the song I performed at my cousins wedding. I’m not in the mood for this and I grumble something to that effect.

As I walk away from her with the clock ticking and the checklist running in my head of all that I have to get done today, I hear her say: “Pretty mum the wedding. My mum good dancer. Well done.”

Savannah and I decked out at a wedding last year.

I can’t help looking back at her as she gives me a big grin. Maybe I am wrong again. I don’t think I am looking after her at all. I think she is looking after me. Drawing me away from the square boxes everyone is fighting to fit themselves into.

If you have heard me speak you will know that one of my key points is that there aren’t answers to everything that life throws our way. For those moments, there is always dance.

And so as Savannah played the song “Tere Bina” from the Bollywood movie Guru for the umpteenth time this morning, I took my own advice; and I danced. She clapped and squealed and made her happy sounds.

No one ever tells us that the lines of our broken hearts, make for the most polished dance floors. Or that dance is meaningless unless someone gives you a beat to dance to.

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