James: My brother

Everything published in this story/book is one hundred percent true. The names of the people in the book are changed for their protection and also for mine. Please don't hate or say rude things about my brother. If you have an opinion that you think I won't like, please keep it to yourself. This isn't for you to make fun of someone who can't help how he was born. Thank you to all my future fans/supporters. 

The day my brother was born I told everyone that I hated him. I'm sure if you asked me now, I'd say the same thing. But we all know I'm lying, right? Even if my brother is a spoiled brat sometimes, I love him with all of my heart. He's my brother, for god sakes. And I'm also incapable of hating another human being, but that's besides the point.

When my brother was born, he came out blue. He hadn't been breathing. We found out that day that he had a birth defect. Clift palate. Now, I know that doesn't sound as bad as what some kids are born with and I totally agree. But, the pain and suffering he goes through some days are on the same level of unbearable.

The first surgery I remember he ever getting was when they took some of the skin off the inside of his cheek and patched the hole on the roof of his mouth. Of course, he was in pain and I worried about him for days until he couldn't talk and eat regularly again. I'm sure I even cried when they took him in. As a matter of fact, I'm crying while I type this. I remember how he was in the hospital (Chapel Hill) and they had a play room for kids who had been cooped up in their rooms until they were able to get up and walk around. Well, my mom and I took him to that play room and I remember how impatient I was. I wanted to leave and go get food, or something stupid. And I remember exactly what my mom said to me. "Hope, he's been stuck in that room for days; let him play. You're being selfish." And at the time, I didn't care. I was ten. But, as the years passed I kept remembering it and feeling so bad for making him leave. Seven years later and I'm still crying about it.

My brother goes through so much and he's put through so much pain. And, I couldn't even let him play. It may sound stupid, but it haunts me. The fact that I was such a selfish bitch, for lack of a better word, that I couldn't just sit there and watch him have fun. I won't lie, I still do that sometimes.

Now, the second surgery I remember was the worse one yet. It was a few years after the first one (that I remember). We were staying at the Ronald McDonald house in Chapel Hill. This was a big surgery. They were taking some of the bone off his hip and using it to push his upper lip out more. (Sorry, I'm not sure what they did exactly.) I remember they morning of the surgery, he was fighting with my parents. He didn't want to do it. He was crying, he was scared. I felt so bad for him. He didn't want any of it; he didn't want anymore pain. But, he did it.

And all I can remember is hearing him tell my mom that he didn't want to do it, begging her. I cried when they took him in, like I do every time. This surgery was longer to complete and longer to heal from. He could barely walk or talk. Everyday I watched him struggle, which was the very minimum. He did his best at everything that he could while he was healing. But, just knowing that there was barely anything I could do to help him killed me.

The third surgery hasn't happened yet, but I'm sure it'll be the worst. It's a bone graph. They're going to take his jaw and pull it forward. He can't eat solid foods for eight weeks. My parents and I agreed to eating puree and mush with him so he won't feel left out. It's the least I can do after I've been a bitch to him for half his life.

Why do you think my brother decides to go through with all these surgeries? Other than the fact that my parents try to push him towards them. Because, most days he's bullied relentlessly. He's picked on for how he looks, how he talks, everything about himself. He just started middle school this year, which scares me endlessly. Middle school kids are the worst; they can ruin a life. The first day of school a kid starts picking on him and his friend (who has autism) and this kid puts his hands around my brother's neck.

My brother, who has a black belt in two different martial arts, proceeds to WHOOP this kid's ass. The principle let it slip, giving my brother a day of ISS for using violence. A week later, the same kid who tried to choke my brother picks on a boy who has a mental disorder (I can't remember what my brother said it was) making a comment about how the boy who had the disorder barely knew his own name. My brother told the bully (that's this kids name now) to stop picking on him because it was morally wrong. Bully then tried to choke my brother again. My brother, James, gave him a bloody nose. Another day of ISS.

Now you might be thinking "this girl's brother is a badass." Well, no. He's just been in a place where the kids with the disabilities aren't respected and he knows that every human being, no matter what, should be respected and he will stick up for the ones that cannot stick up for themselves. If you're wondering, my brother does support gay marriage. He even said once, and I quote, "Why can't they have the same rights as everyone else? It doesn't make sense. They're people too."

But, the point of this story is to open myself, and my life, up to the harmfully analyzing public and tell them my story and my brother's. It's not to get attention and sympathy. We don't need it. We just want to tell people our story.