Today was bittersweet to say the least. Today I moved my 21-year-old daughter out of the house. She’s my third child to leave the nest. I didn’t fare too well with the first two. When the first one left, I sat around the corner in my car and wept like a baby as I watched him and his buddy load the uhaul. It wasn’t pretty.

This time it’s different. This time I don’t feel sadness as much as I feel fear. You see, my daughter is 21. By chronological years it would seem it’s time to let go. But Claire has special needs so developmentally she’s much, much younger.

Claire has a rare chromosome disorder. In fact, so rare that there isn’t even a name for it. Ok well, technically it’s partial deletion chromosome 2, partial duplication chromosome 2. But that’s a mouth-full so I just tell people it’s very similar to down syndrome.

Claire was placed in my arms when she was 15-months-old. I adopted her from Korea. I was told that she could potentially have physical limitations. She no sooner landed on American soil that I had her signed up with every doctor and therapist that I could squeeze into my schedule. It became apparent almost immediately that she was physically fine. She was a little behind but nothing a little time couldn’t cure. As time marched on, however, she wasn’t developing as we had all expected.

She was the most pleasant, happiest, laid back baby. And I was beyond blessed to have her. But the doctors grew concerned. And tests showed nothing. At one point a doctor told me I just needed to accept the fact that she will never fully develop and I needed to move on. I cried for 2 weeks.

I did move on but the gap between her chronological age and her developmental age grew bigger and bigger. I grew to accept it and tried to offer her as many opportunities as I could. She took part in Special Olympics; learning how ice skate and ride horses. She also swam and played softball. No matter what she was always so happy.

As she entered her pre-teen years, I noticed something odd about her physical development. Her toes were growing weird. Her legs were bowed. Nothing major but enough to prompt a visit to the doctor. The doctor ordered another chromosome test. I was confused because they had already tested her chromosomes. And chromosomes are pretty much set in stone, right??? Yes they are, but the tests aren’t. The tests have gotten better and can find more abnormalities than they could years ago. Still, I didn’t expect any new information and felt it was a waste of time. But then one day the phone rang. The geneticist didn’t give me any results over the phone and asked me to come to his office to discuss in person.  Lo and behold. I finally had answers.

Of course, it didn’t change what I already knew. Claire is the same today as she was yesterday and there is not a single other person like her on this planet. If you know Claire, you know what I mean when I say…she is truly a one-of-a-kind! And by the way, her name means bright…little did I know when I chose that name how fitting it would be for her!

So, here we are today. Claire is taking her first major steps toward independence. She is ready. I am not. I came home yesterday and her entire room was packed and ready to go. She had even vacuumed it. I kinda pictured myself carefully folding and packing all her clothes and going through 100 bottles of nail polish and hello kitty paraphernalia. Nope. She didn’t need me. But that’s ok. That’s independence. And that’s a good thing.

Claire will be fine (if I keep repeating that to myself it will be true). She’s moving into a cute little house with a very compatible roommate. She has a wonder provider who will be checking on her weekly and helping her with cooking, shopping, budgeting, etc. Claire has a part-time job working with preschool kids which she LOVES. She has wonderful friends. I really couldn’t ask for a better support system for her. She’ll be fine, right?