A Letter to Oliver

I'll try to make this intro short. A few month ago I watched a documentary on Hulu that a friend of mine suggested, called "Life, Animated." In short, it's about a man, diagnosed with Autism at a young age, and how he learned to communicate through Disney movies. Besides the obvious melt down I had pretty much the ENTIRE documentary, I had a particularly hard time with a little section dedicated to the brother, only a couple of years younger than the autistic man. A little tidbit of a documentary that may seem uninteresting for the viewers who are tuned in to see the journey of the man with autism. But me? I dwelled on it for weeks. Months by the time I am writing this. So, without further ado, I have decided to write a letter to future Oliver. He didn't ask for all of the responsibility coming his way, but there is not a doubt in my mind that he will be the perfect brother for the job.

Dear Oliver,

Someday you are going to learn that our family functions a little different than every one else's, and that's okay! Someday you will learn that your sister is adopted. "Adopted? But why? So she has a different mom? She's not my real sister?"

Someday we will get there, all of your questions will be answered, and you will begin to understand, and see that our family was knitted together just right.

As you grow, you will learn about autism. It'll be slow, and frustrating, but you'll get it one day, I promise. It's a mothers job to make sure that you understand, and that is exactly what I plan to do.

In the beginning its going to be so hard! It will be harder to learn things that seem so silly right now to a baby. Sharing will seem unfair. "Why do I always have to share my blocks, but Avery never has to share her straws?" It'll get easier, I promise.

As our lives get busier, and you find things that you love to do, it won't always seem fair. Your sister spends a lot of time working on things that you mastered years ago, which might seem annoying. But someday you might have a baseball game that mommy might have to miss for your sister's therapy. The thought of that makes me so sad, and I am so sorry already. Daddy and I promise to try our hardest to never miss a minute of seeing you do what you love most, I hope you see that someday.

Family trips, or even just a simple outing to a restaurant will be hard. I know that you already see this. As you get bigger, we will expect a little more from you than a typical little brother, and Daddy and I know how unfair that is.

We will teach you to be patient, and loving, and kind, and you will grow up to be one amazing little brother.

My biggest hope for you is one that keeps me up at night. I hope that you grow to love your big sister and want to protect her in every aspect of life. Because one day, even though it's a job that not many little brothers have, we will need you to step up and help when daddy and I cannot. I know that you are up for the job, even now.

One day daddy and I will not be able to care for Avery the same way we can now. She will need special care for the rest of her life. It's unfair to ask, but we are praying that you will help.

As you sit here at 18 months old, playing with your shapes and blocks, it seems like all of this is centuries ahead. But we have to start now, and daddy and I are here to help, and your sister thanks you everyday. Even if she cannot say it quite yet, she loves you, and you are already doing everything right.

That is how I know that you are the perfect little brother for the job.

We love you,

Mommy and Daddy