My Dearest M

           Like everything else in her life, my little sister M entered the world with drama.  Four Weeks premature and struggling to get air into her tiny lungs, the baby that was born was not like the little baby I had learned about in “I'm Going to be a Big Sibling!” class, because she was dying.  Going from being an only child to the older sister of a very ill baby was a shock, and I remember the hospitalization of M with surprising clarity for a four year-old.  When I look back I can see the way not only my life but also myself changed due to the effects of having a sick little sister.

Through necessity I became more independent.  With my dad working full-time and my mom spending twenty hours a day with her sick baby I quickly realized that I was not going to be able to rely on them as I always had in the past.  While there were relatives constantly at the house to look after me, they were not the same as having my parents.  My aunt and uncle had no clue as to where my favorite stuffed bear had gone, my grandma couldn’t locate my special blanket, and it was much easier to find the specific pair of pink shoes I was describing on my own.  My independence expanded even more so when M finally came home from the hospital at nearly two months-old, finally pneumonia free and breathing normally, but far from ‘okay.’  As M could not be left alone without a machine monitoring the oxygen saturation of her red blood cells it was difficult for my mom to help me with things that could not be done while holding a baby.  Because of this I learned at an early age how to shower, brush my hair, and get ready for bed.

            When M was born I became part of a team, something I had never been on before.  With a preemie in the hospital and a four year-old at home it is no figure of speech to say I became part of a team.  My Nana and Papa were the first two to join the team, and they helped our family out through the most difficult time.  After M had been in the hospital for a week it was decided that it was not good to have me living in our house, surrounded by the talk of “what if?”  That was when my Nana and Papa stepped in, taking me home with them to West Virginia, where I stayed until M was on the uphill side of her battle.  After M came home the team continued to grow.  It was quickly joined by a large group of doctors, all devoted to the health of my little sister.  And a few people devoted to me.  My preschool teacher and her two daughters picked me up every week and took me somewhere for the day, so my mom could get M to her various appointments.  Over the next two years of frequent visits to the doctor I learned a lot about being on a team, and what it means about sticking together when times get tough.

             As a babysitter I have watched a lot of children’s television, teaching on a variety of subjects, however the one thing that is frequently passed over altogether is death.  For children under the age of five death is simply an ominous word used by mommy and daddy, but it doesn’t hold much weight with a child who has no idea the gravity of it.  I was a perceptive four year-old, and when M was born so tiny and so sick, I became all too aware of the fragility of life.  I was never sat down and explicitly told that my sister was going to die, but I could tell that no one was sure if M would live through her first struggle.  Death was no longer some foreign concept; it was very real, and very close to my family.  My early understanding of the uncertainties has affected me greatly and extends to this day.  I believe that you never know what the day will hold, and you never know if you will be given another.  For this reason I am not the new driver who is always running at least twenty over the speed limit, nor do I attempt to take corners like that guy in that one action movie.  I (try) not to say or do things that I will wish I could take back at a later time, because you never know if you’ll get one.

            Many years have gone by since my baby sibling was born.  M is now a healthy preteen, who wants a boyfriend and passing grades (I dropped the ball on that one) and I could not be happier to have a wonderful little sister.  The effects of her illness stay with me to this day, but they only helped me grow as a person.  And now the skills I have learned will be put to use again.  Two days ago my mom arrived at my grandmother’s nursing home to find out that she is at the end of her life, having a few weeks left at the most.  This is not a surprise to anyone, as she has had dementia for years, and we have mourned the loss of her years ago, but it is still a difficult time for our family.  As my parents spend every moment when they are not at work sitting bedside with her it will fall to me to take over the responsibilities of the house, including getting M to and from her dance classes three days a week.  It is at this time that I am again so thankful for every way the hardship of M’s illness affected me.