We've Got This!

Jessica and Alex have always shared a special bond.  Jessica was just 19 1/2 months old when we brought her brother home.  She thought that bringing a baby home for her was the best idea we'd ever had.  She never seemed to have a moment of jealousy or apprehension.  She didn't ask me to take him back.  I take absolutely no credit for this; it was just her nature.  She was excited throughout my pregnancy and excited about the new baby.  She tried to mother him right away.  We had to stop her from trying to feed banana slices to a newborn.  She still used a pacifier, and she would trade with her brother.  Grabbing her own from her mouth, then his, and switching.  Not at all hygenic, I know, but it was so darn adorable.

Alex's autism was diagnosed when she was three.  She's told me since that she doesn't remember this time in our lives.  There is no "before" and "after" the diagnosis like there is for her dad and me.  There's just Alex.

We tried hard not to rely to much on her for help with her brother.  It was difficult, always, to hold her back.  Her instinct was always to mother him.

At ten, she asked my mother if Alex would ever go to college.  Grandma told her gently that no, he probably would never go to college.  "That's okay," Jess replied.  "I'll go to college, and then when I'm done he'll come and live with me."

Throughout Alex's life, Jessica has been beside him, guiding him and protecting him.  Despite our best efforts to shield her from taking on too much responsibility, we were powerless to stop her.

When Alex graduated from high school, we planned and orchestrated a private ceremony complete with a processional, music, speakers, school board member giving him his diploma, and a slide show.  Jessica escorted her brother down the aisle at the beginning of the ceremony.  She and John's cousin, Lynn, sang "For Good" from Wicked as the closing song.  There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

At nineteen, I faxed guardianship papers to her in Boston.  We were completing the legal guardianship process for her brother, with her dad and me as his guardians.  Part of the process was to have her named as back-up guardian, should something happen to both of us.  Late that night, I emailed her.  I had gotten caught up in all of the details, red tape, and delays in the guardianship process.  I forgot, for just a moment, that other nineteen year olds do not sign legal papers to become their sibling's guardian in case something happens to their parents.  I apologized in the email, and thanked her for always being there for her brother.

I've always been pleased that she felt she could go far away to school, and far away for her job.  I'm glad that she didn't feel she needed to stay close by because of her brother's disability.  The truth is, the distance isn't so bad.  We talk almost daily, and we travel frequently.  Alex doesn't travel long distances easily, so she comes here to see him.  At any rate, despite the geographical distance, Jess and her brother remain extremely close.

So as soon as we got the news about Alex's cancer, I knew I was going to have to call Jessica at work, 2,200 miles away, and give her the devastating news.  My heart had just been broken by learning that my son had cancer.  Now I had to tell his sister.  More heartbreak.

I called her work phone, which I never do.  She answered and the tone of her voice told me she was wary about the number on her caller id.  I had called from her dad's phone, so she was somewhat surprised to hear my voice.  I honestly don't remember the exact conversation, but it went something like this:

"Hello?"

"It's mom.  We were at Alex's doctor's appointment.  It's bad."

Silence.

"He has cancer."

I'm crying by this point, and she starts crying, too.  At work. Alone.  Did I mention she was 2,200 miles away?

"I want to come home."

"We'll figure something out," I start to say, and I'm trying to be practical.  I hadn't thought about this.  We've known for less than an hour that Alex had cancer, so I was still in a fog.  She hung up the phone before I could say much more.  She called back about 10 minutes later.

"I found a flight.  I get into Milwaukee at 10:05.  I have to go talk to my boss."

And that was that.  Jessica spoke with her cube mates and her boss, and left her office.  She went home and packed a bag, and drove to LAX.  John and I went to our respective works and talked with our bosses.  I had texted my principal as soon as I had gotten the news.  I'd been off work for a week for Alex's surgery, and was due back at school the following day. My principal and my fourth grade team all knew I  was getting biopsy results that morning.  I cried in my principal's office and tried to figure out a plan.  We had no plan yet, and wouldn't get one for more that a week.

John and I drove to Milwaukee and picked Jessica up.  We had returned Alex to his group home that morning, after the appointment.  The next day, the three of us picked Alex up for lunch.  Jessica was with us for the first oncology appointment.  She was with us as we all tried to process what was happening.  Together, we were unified.  Together, things were a little less terrifying. 

"We've got this," we told each other.  And the funny thing is, we knew it was true.  We didn't yet have any idea what we meant, but we knew that anything we had to face, we could face together.

The four of us clung together, figuratively at least, for that weekend.  We also laughed and talked about the wedding and non-cancer things.  We tried to be just "us."  The before-cancer us.  And it worked, at least a little.  It worked enough, anyway, to get us through those first days.

By the time Jess went back to California on Monday, we were less in shock and ready for a fight.  When Jess booked her flight and was coming home, I told myself she needed to do it for her.  She needed to see her brother and she needed to be here.  When she left to go back home, I realized we needed her to be here.  We needed her every bit as much as she needed us.