Katie Mo

Katie Mo

When I was kid, I didn’t give much thought to the fact that I didn’t have a sister. I had twin brothers, six years my junior. I didn’t have time for sisters.

Plus, I heard the horror stories of sisters swiping each other’s stuff, of sibling sabotage so sinister, only a sister with sisters could understand. I guess, at times, I was actually glad not to have a sister.

Then one day, I became a mom for the second time, to a daughter. Suddenly, there was a new and spectacular female voice within the family. I know a lot of mothers claim strong bonds with their baby girls at birth. But there truly was something extraordinary about ours. She completed me.

Mary Katherine slept all night her first night at home. She rarely complained, cooed this incredibly adorable sound that proved impossible to resist, and exuded contentment. She begged attention, not because she demanded it, but because she was so completely lovable, endearing and funny.

She always slept with her arms thrust directly above her head. When we’d pick her up from her nap, she looked like a miniature Sumo wrestler, hence her nickname, “Katie Mo.” She watched every move her brother made. Her greatest frustration as a baby was the fact that she could not walk and talk like him. Her greatest satisfaction was to hold his attention for even a few uninterrupted seconds.

Whether he realized it at the time or not, Sam had the ultimate sister. She idolized him.

Katie turned 16 on March 21, 2010. She’s come a long way from that nearly bald bundle of drooling, giggling glee. I have marveled at how intelligent and capable she is, wondered over how it is that Steven and l landed such a truly remarkable daughter. She is beautiful inside and out, and I treasure our time together. My dad said it best. She is one of a kind.

And though for some inexplicable reason she has been saddled with a medical disorder that defies definition, she remains that completely lovable, endearing and funny gal who won our hearts 16 years ago. At times, her pain and physical challenges have been more than any kid should have to endure.

She has weathered ridicule, misunderstanding and alienation from people who should have known better. She harbors no anger, no grudge, in spite of having every right to do so. She has shown strength of character and powerful will in the face of daunting discomfort and exhaustion. Her faith is unwavering, her spirit undaunted.

She doesn’t have a sense of smell, something we didn’t determine until she was nearly 13 years old. Why did it take so long? She’s resourceful. We just didn’t see the deficit because she never realized she had one. I still laugh when I think about taking her to Bath and Body Works and asking her to sniff a dozen fragrances or more. She thought I was crazy. And I thought she was odd to say they all “smell good…I guess?”

I have laughed harder and longer and more gratefully with her because anyone who can find the funny among countless needles and pills and procedures bordering on torture inevitably can make even the most stolid Ice Queen crack a smile. She takes one day at a time and makes each one richer for the rest of us.

So I never had a sister. It’s OK with me, because I have a daughter who is second to none.