By Paint Her in Color Founder, Laura Spiegel

My son turned nine last week. I can’t believe how fast the years have flown. When I look at him, I still see the tiny boy who came into this world at 12:47 PM on a Tuesday.

Every year on his birthday, I tell him the same story. The one about how we met. Just after lunch on a Tuesday, the doctor lifted him up over the sheet, and he blinked his little eyes at me. And from that moment on, I knew that I would always love him.

This year was extra special because the night before my son’s birthday, he had his mom and dad all to himself. His little sister spent the night at a friend’s house – an occasion that she had been looking forward to all week. While she donned Cinderella dresses and watched movies with her bestie, my husband and I celebrated our son the best way we knew how. We sang happy birthday. We built a fire and stayed up talking until late in the night. I slept with him snuggled next to me. And of course, I told him the story of how we first met. Not just once, but two, three, maybe ten times tops.

That night, we didn’t worry about his sister’s respiratory therapy. We let someone else count out her enzyme pills. We didn’t pause to disinfect nebulizers or worry about the camp fire’s effect on her cystic fibrosis. We let her have her evening with her friend, and we put all our energy into celebrating our son.

As so many of you know, it can be hard to put the sibling of a child who has a special health care need first. Despite our best intentions, we sometimes wonder if we’re doing enough for a sibling. Does he feel heard? Does he feel seen? Does he feel valued and celebrated and loved? Does he understand that despite the time we spend managing his sister’s health, we love him bigger than the sky?

Does he know that we thank God for him every day? That we are so very proud of him? I tell my son that every night before he goes to bed, and I know he’s listening. But does he really hear me?

The night before my son’s birthday was a wonderful time that I will always remember. I think he will, too. It was also a reminder to both my husband and me that this special time does not have to happen just once a year. We can take a special trip to Dairy Queen on a Thursday after dinner. We can be fully present during his soccer practice instead of on the laptop. We can take the time to answer one more question before he closes his eyes at night. I mean, does five or ten fewer minutes of sleep really matter in the long run?

We can do more of this. We must do more of this.

And we need to do it within our normal family routine. A routine that has also been blessed by a beautiful little girl who was born at 8:08 AM on a Monday. A routine that includes her homework, her sports practices, her stories, her snuggles. And yes, her daily health care.

Have you figured out how to fit in special moments with all your children? Do you have ideas for making a sibling feel seen, heard, and loved? Click on the below button to share your tips with all of us.