Reflection of a Mirror

I still remember when my father was carrying my brother, Angel, to the NICU after he was born. I looked over to see a small baby with a blue hat, wrapped tightly in a blanket. He had the most beautiful upward-slanted eyes, a small nose, a protruding tongue that was bigger than his small mouth, a single straight crease across his palm and a gap between his first and second toes. These were the physical characteristics of Down syndrome, a genetic disorder I knew nothing about. After his birth, I had many mixed feelings of anger, confusion, and happiness. I was happy because I had always wanted to have a baby brother, I was angry because I demanded to know why he had to be born with a disability and I was confused and in denial because I kept thinking that his illness was just brief and that it would miraculously go away.

Despite this, at fourteen years of age, I found myself caring for my 6 month old brother while my mother and father had to work. I had to feed him, dress him, carry him, and make sure that he was receiving the proper amounts of oxygen. At only 14 years old, not only was I young and naïve, but I had to also care for a baby who needed special care because of his diagnosis. But as my mother cared for my brother, I was able watch and learn from her the best techniques that were needed to provide the proper care. I found myself imitating my mother, and I my self developed caring and empathetic skills at just 14 years of age.