Milestones

The end of this school year has brought about a lot of changes and has kept us busier than usual, but there are milestones that should be documented. Rachel turned 20. Not only is she not my tiny girl anymore, she isn't even a teenager. I have never had a problem with my own birthdays. I keep wondering if on some future birthday I will get up, look in the mirror, see that I'm older, and become depressed. So far I've avoided that. However, I definitely had issues with Rachel's birthday this year. I don't seem to be able to wrap my head around the fact that she's 20 years old. It didn't bother me particularly when her older brothers turned 20, but maybe that's because they weren't living at home anymore. For some reason, when I look at her, 20 just seems so old.

When I really think about it, I think part of my problem is that as she gets older the chasm between her abilities and the abilities of other people her age widens. We knew when we adopted her that this would be the case (in fact, she is able to do so much more than we thought she would be able to). I don't think I've harbored any secret dreams that she would "get better" and live a "normal" life. Also, more and more often I am having to take her places she doesn't want to go or get someone to sit with her, because there is no one here to watch her and I can't leave her alone. I knew that this would happen as well, and I think I'm mentally prepared for it.

Another milestone is that this was her last year at her high school. This last year she spent part of her time at the high school and part of the time at a transition school that specializes in helping disabled children move into adulthood. They teach them life skills, job skills that may help them find employment, and offer recreational activities. Next fall she will go there full time. Last year Rachel could have gone through the graduation ceremony, but she wouldn't have enjoyed it, so we opted to not have her attend. This year has been a bit better, and her younger brother was graduating, so we decided to at least get a cap and gown and do pictures. I took her to the practice to see what she would do. She smiled all the way through it, so I decided to let her walk. She was right in front of her brother, and I think it went well. She was a little confused, but there were people there to help her and guide her. The only real problem she had was while walking up the stairs to the exit after the actual ceremony, her shoe came off, and her brother had to pull her off to the side and help her put it back on. She apparently was vocal about the fact that she didn't like the situation. I'm not sure what she said, but her brother was grateful to turn her over to me when I connected with them. There aren't many brothers who would be willing to help her out the way he does on a daily basis. I know he has learned a lot from her and loves her completely, but he has had to make a lot of sacrifices and put up with a fair number of embarrassing and uncomfortable situations. He does it with love and quiet loyalty, and I will be forever grateful for him. Lately he's been the one who stayed home with her the most, and while I will miss the convenience of him being here with her when he leaves home, I will miss, even more, his willingness to do whatever random thing I need him to do for me, his quirky sense of humor, and most of all the quiet strength and desire to serve others that he has developed. Rachel sometimes picks on him (verbally, since he is about a foot and a half taller than she is), but I know she is going to really miss him.

This started out to be a happy, upbeat, "look what awesome things are happening at our house" post. I guess it got derailed by the slightly sad/nostalgic thought that my children are growing up. I wouldn't ever want to hinder their progress, but I miss being the most important thing in their lives, the sticky hugs and kisses, and the sleepy "I love you, Mommy" when I tuck them in bed. I look at them and I can still see the children that they were underneath the amazingly awe inspiring people they have become, and realize I wouldn't change a thing.