In late December of 1977, a baby was born in a small town in Oklahoma and put on a helicopter to Oklahoma City for a life-saving operation. When the new parents arrived, a young doctor took the father into a custodial closet and gave him two options, “Your daughter has two issues. One is Down syndrome. The other is a blocked intestinal track. Would you like us to do the surgery, or let her pass away from these complications? We understand if you choose not to do the surgery.” The new dad refused the offer, asked for the surgery, and that baby is now thirty-six, healthy, and my older sister.

Because she is fourteen months older, there was not a day of my life that I wasn’t Syble’s sister. We potty trained together, played together, and went to school together. It didn’t take long for me to notice she was different. But different didn’t mean less at our house. It just meant we adapted to her needs, just as we adapted to my needs, or our younger sister’s needs when she came along when I was five and Syble was six.

I cheered Syble on at her Special Olympic meets. She patiently sat through my choir concerts. There were times she embarrassed me, usually by whispering too loudly that one of my guy friends was “h-o-t-t, hot!” But she was well-known and well-liked in our small town.

When I went to college, I faced challenges I hadn’t dealt with before. Even though I clearly remember the first person to use the r-word as an insult in front of me, most of my friends knew that was hurtful and didn’t use that word or make other insulting jokes, like about the short bus. But in college no one knew my sister or my story. When friends there used the r-word or made jokes, I told them I didn’t think it was funny, not just because my sister had Downs, but because I knew dozens of families with someone with a disability and none of them deserved being the punch line of a joke.

A couple years after graduating from college I met the man who would become my husband. At the time, he and I lived in North Carolina and my family lived in Colorado. On our second date, when I knew we were serious about each other, I told him about my family and specifically my sister. I needed him to understand that if he married me, we would also have to care for my sister some day. Syble and I were a package deal. It’s not what someone expects to hear on a second date, but it was important to me that he know how important she is and that she’s part of my future.

Lee and I now have a special-needs child of our own. Our son James was diagnosed with autism four years ago. When I called my parents to let them know, they not only had sympathy but true empathy. They knew the long road we had ahead of us. They also knew the joys that come along with being a special-needs parent.

I’m so thankful for Syble and what being her sister has taught me and I’m proud of who she is and all she’s accomplished!

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Sandra blogs at sandrapeoples.com and is the owner/editor of specialneedsparenting.net. She and her family live in Pennsylvania, where her husband is a pastor. Together they co-wrote a Bible study for special-needs parents entitled Held: Learning to Live in God’s Grip.