Six hundred and fifty seven days is the exact number of days CJ was an only child. Ten days after Ella was born, we brought her home, from the NICU, to begin our life together outside of the hospital walls. At the time I am sure CJ had no idea how bringing this little human into the house would change his life. None of us really did.

As the days ticked on, CJ didn’t seem overly thrilled to have little sister. She cried a lot. She needed to be fed all the time, and despite our best efforts for it not to happen, she did require us to take our attention away from him. He was still young and his interaction with her came in small spurts. There were a lot of kisses, the occasional request to hold her, and I do recall he would randomly tell her stories when she was upset. Otherwise, it was like she wasn’t even there. All or nothing was his way of being a big brother at two years old.

Even as therapists started to come to the house daily, and Ella wasn’t reaching her milestones, CJ never questioned what was going on. We wondered if we should tell him. He was still so young and we weren’t even sure what was going on. What would we say? We decided to keep it simple and tell him that Ella was growing differently than he did at her age. He didn’t care. To him she was still just Ella. His little sister who had people come “play” with her, and he got to play too!

As time went on, he began questioning things more. He saw other kids Ella’s age doing things that Ella couldn’t do. He wanted to know why. Each time he asked, we answered with, “Ella’s just growing differently than those other kids.” We tried to give straightforward examples hoping to help him understand better. We explained that some people are tall while other people are short. Some people are skinny and some are not. We let him know that while the kids he was seeing could do some things Ella couldn’t, it didn’t make them better or worse.

With age came a deeper wisdom for CJ. Around the time he was five we sat down and had a talk with him. He knew Ella was attending a special school and was upset she got to ride the bus before he did. He didn’t understand why, and didn’t think it was fair. Steve and I knew it was time to tell him more about Ella’s condition.

As hard as we thought the conversation about was going to be, CJ surprised us both. We talked about all the things Ella had trouble doing. About how at her age she should be walking and talking. She should be outside playing in the yard and drawing on the driveway with chalk. She should be feeding herself at the table and helping get herself dressed in the morning. He sat there and he listened. He knew. I know he knew. When we were done, he asked, “Will Ella ever be able to do any of those things?” I am sure after he left the room I sobbed, but at that moment we just answered, “We hope so buddy!”.

From that day forward we have been using the term special needs when we talk about Ella. CJ knows exactly what that means and how it effects our family. He sees her struggles and celebrates her victories. Ella adores him, and while CJ doesn’t always give her as much attention as we would like, we know he is trying to find the best way to communicate with, and be there for her. We know it will take some time. For now, walking into the room and saying hi is all she needs from him to be happy.

Throughout it all, CJ has become one of Ella’s biggest fans. He cheers her on at therapy, asks about all her doctors appointments, questions things that happen at school, and gets mad when she is mistreated. He sits with her when she is upset, and for a brief time used to sleep in her room every night. Their brother/sister relationship is different than most, and in many ways we have seen firsthand just how protective he is of her.

The day will come that we will need to have a very similar conversation regarding Ella, with Jack. The two of them already have an incredible bond. I am not worried about the outcome at all.