When your dad called to tell me that your brother had Down syndrome, time seemed to freeze for a moment. I dropped the phone and crumpled to the floor. The first words out of my mouth were, “Oh no, this can’t be real, this cannot be happening.” Then I thought, “Oh dear, poor Emma, poor Emma.” My mind instantly shifted to you, my sweet girl.
For 16 months, you were my universe. I genuinely treasured our time together—well, maybe I could have done without the teething episodes! I tried to soak in every little moment: the giggles, our endless games of peek-a-boo, and reading the same books on repeat. But when I heard about your brother’s diagnosis, I found myself drifting away from the present and worrying about your future.
Instead of celebrating your first words, I fretted over your middle school years. What if someone teased you for having a brother who was different? What if I became too consumed by his needs and overlooked yours? My thoughts were clouded with how this could be unfair to you. Yet, I failed to see the incredible opportunities his diagnosis could bring into your life.
I learned that 97 percent of children with a sibling who has Down syndrome feel proud of their brother or sister, and 88 percent say their sibling makes them better people. That’s my hope for you, Emma.
When you see Lucas working hard to achieve something that comes easily to you, I hope you discover humility. When you feel like judging someone for their appearance, I pray you think of your brother and how he may be perceived. When life’s little annoyances get you down, I hope you choose gratitude instead.
I wish for you both to find joy in life—appreciate the beauty in the mundane, and embrace gratitude. I hope you learn to love deeply.
You may mature faster than your peers, but that’s not a bad thing. Because of Lucas, I hope you can sidestep some of the superficiality that often accompanies youth. I hope you live your life boldly and make the most of your talents. I want you to see that there’s a vast world beyond your school hallways filled with needs that go beyond the ordinary.
So, I’m not sorry your brother has Down syndrome. It no longer feels unfair. In fact, I believe you hold an advantage because of his diagnosis. You have a front-row seat to life’s greatest lessons. Popularity? Not important. The coolest car in the high school parking lot (which, by the way, you won’t have)? Not important. Looking good? What truly matters is this: to love everyone, unconditionally.
As Galatians 5:6 says, “…the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.”
With all my love,
Mom
P.S. Your brother is incredibly fortunate to have you as his sister. While you will undoubtedly learn from him, he will learn so much from you too. You are compassionate like your dad and spirited like me. I know you will be not just one of his greatest teachers but also his protector and friend. He’s one lucky kiddo!
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In summary, this heartfelt letter expresses a mother’s evolving perspective on her children’s unique relationship, emphasizing the life lessons that can be learned through love and understanding.