Wide Open

I hesitated to post this, because I don’t want sympathy or pity. But I want to be completely honest, so here it is:

Tonight, I sit awake, crying, grieving again the child we expected to have 11 months ago. I don’t know why I grieve. The child we got instead is sweet, funny, adorable, capable, smart, caring, non-discriminating, loving and playful. There never was any other child. She was always going to be who she is. It’s been almost a year, and I finally, maybe for the first time, have seen an upside to Down Syndrome. I’ve noticed lately that a lot of parents of “typical” kids watch their child clip through milestones, without their giving it a second thought. Yet they’re always wishing for the next one, never appreciating what they’ve got. “Yes he/she’s crawling/babbling/teething/feeding himself, but when’s he ever going to…?” I almost feel a relief that I can watch my child and be excited about what she is doing instead of frustrated at what she’s not. Her having a “disability” has given me the permission to throw typical expectations out the window, and enjoy her on Addison-time. Having said that, it can be incredibly frustrating to work and work and work on a given skill for months at a time, seeing no progress whatsoever. Until one day, she decides she’s ready, and takes off. Just in the last few weeks, Addison has learned to get from her tummy to sitting, started babbling, and has figured out if she positions herself just right, she can pull herself up on her crib rail.

So, why do I grieve? Selfishness. Pride. Envy. Empathy. Fear. As much as Addison may be more alike others than different, she will always be different. Though many will be nice to her, some will not, and some only patronizingly. I’m afraid they won’t all see past her flat nose, almond eyes and low-set ears to genuinely appreciate the girl behind them and give her a fair chance. We all have our shortcomings, she just has to wear hers on the outside.