Carol and her husband had experience raising children with additional needs.
For weeks, she’d been mentioning a distant relative named Carol. Carol and her husband had experience raising children with additional needs. At least, that was how Diane described them. One message read: I really think you should at least talk to Carol before things become too much. I had assumed Diane wanted me to ask Carol for advice.
“Diane said you wanted to talk to us.”
Now the wording felt different. I called Carol. She sounded happy to hear from me. Then confused. “Diane said you wanted to talk to us.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“About Brenda?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. “Did she tell you why?” “For advice.”
“She said you had experience.”
Carol went quiet. “What?” “She said you had experience.” Another pause.
“That’s not what Diane asked me.”
My chest tightened.
“I didn’t think she meant Brenda at first.”
“What did she ask?” Carol lowered her voice.
“She asked whether my husband and I would ever consider raising another child.”
I couldn’t speak. Carol continued quickly.
“She said you and Daniel might eventually realize you couldn’t handle everything Brenda needed.”
“I didn’t think she meant Brenda at first. I thought she was asking hypothetically.”
“What changed?”
“She said you and Daniel might eventually realize you couldn’t handle everything Brenda needed. Then she asked what we’d do if that happened.” I hung up shaking.
But she had already started planning for a future in which we gave up.
Diane hadn’t arranged anything. But she had already started planning for a future in which we gave up.
That evening, Daniel called his mother.
“Come over.”
Diane arrived looking exhausted.
Her expression changed immediately.
I put my phone on the table.
“I spoke to Carol.”
Her expression changed immediately. Daniel saw it. “Mom, what did you do?”
“You were trying to give away our daughter?”
Diane sat down. “I was trying to prepare options.” “Options for what?”
“For when this became too much.”
I stared at her. “You were trying to give away our daughter?”
“And then you started waking Brenda every night.”
“No.”
“You asked another family whether they’d raise her.”
“I asked a question.” “And then you started waking Brenda every night.” Diane’s voice rose. “Because neither of you was being realistic!”
“You already have Ben. He had seven years with you.”
Daniel slammed his hand on the table. “Realistic about what?”
“Your life!”
She pointed upstairs. “You already have Ben. He had seven years with you. Now everything revolves around appointments, specialists, therapy—”
“By deliberately making her cry?”
“Enough,” I said. “I’m thinking about everyone.” “No. You’re deciding for everyone.”
“I’m thinking about Brenda too.”
“By deliberately making her cry?” Diane’s face crumpled.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
“I needed you to see how difficult this could become.” “You manufactured the difficulty.”
“Because you weren’t listening!”
Then a voice came from the doorway. “But we wanted Brenda.”
Diane went silent.
We all turned. Ben stood there in dinosaur pajamas. Diane went silent. Ben looked at her.
“You keep saying everything changed.”
Nobody answered. He frowned.
“I was protecting you.”
“But we wanted her.” Daniel walked to the door and opened it.
“Mom, you need to leave.”
She started crying. “Daniel.” “Leave.” “I was protecting you.”
Afterward, I sat with Ben on the stairs.
“No. Ben was protecting Brenda from you.” Diane left. Afterward, I sat with Ben on the stairs.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked confused. “For what?” “I kept sending you back to bed. I thought you were being silly.”
“You should’ve told me anyway.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“You should’ve told me anyway.” He hesitated.
“Grandma’s an adult.”
“I know.” “I thought adults know what’s right.” I pulled him close.
Diane was no longer part of our daily lives.
“Adults can be wrong too.” He leaned against me. “And if an adult ever tells you to keep something secret because telling me would upset me, you tell me anyway.”
“Even if you’ll get mad?”
“Especially then.” Almost a year later, Brenda turned one. Diane was no longer part of our daily lives. Any contact happened under boundaries Daniel and I controlled.
At Brenda’s birthday, he helped put one candle on her cake.
By then, Ben had stopped hovering whenever someone picked Brenda up. He was back to being her brother instead of her guard.
At Brenda’s birthday, he helped put one candle on her cake. My sister asked him, “What did you wish for when your mom was pregnant?” Ben grinned. “I already got it.”
Then he dipped one finger into the cake and dabbed frosting onto Brenda’s nose.
Right then, Brenda grabbed a fistful of frosting and smeared it across his shirt. Ben stared down at himself. Then he dipped one finger into the cake and dabbed frosting onto Brenda’s nose. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe I should’ve been more specific.”
