Sight (Hind and Otherwise)

Here we are again at the end of the month long 31 for 21 blog, and as I sit here on the tail end of another Halloween, I can hardly believe that I now have a two and a four year old and that tomorrow is the first of November. Holy whiplash, Batman. My head is spinning from the breakneck speed of time flying by right now. October is such a time of reflection and transition for our family that it is fitting that this is the month we take time to write down the impressions of our journey.


Of course, it’s natural to have a nostalgic bout of hindsight as your children hit their birthdays. You think about being in labor, about seeing them for the first time, about all of the things that have changed in all of the days since those first miraculous days. In our little family, we have crammed all of that retrospection into October with the birthdays of both of our boys, Sam’s birthday, plus Down syndrome awareness month, and the anniversary of learning that our lives were about to go down a path we didn’t expect as we received Linc’s unexpected diagnosis.

I will forever remember the words of my doctor, who told me while standing with me in the NICU looking down at newborn Lincoln hooked up to half a dozen machines that while I was majoring in English, I would be getting a minor in Down syndrome. She was so right, and yet it didn’t quite encompass the learning curve. The English major had an end date, with a fancy ceremony and a pretty piece of paper. The minor in DS is ongoing; I learn things everyday about his diagnosis and his needs. But I also learn things everyday about myself, about love and faith and the human condition. Being Lincoln’s mother has made me stronger, braver, happier, and more grounded than I was before. Sure, I have also shed more tears than I expected, but who hasn’t?

I simply cannot look back at the last two years and wish that Lincoln was a typical child. On one hand, I wish for an easy path for him, and I know that easy is the one thing his life will never be. But, on the other hand, I know that an easy path does not equal a happy existence because happiness does not exist in a void. It is valuable only as a counterpart to the hard parts (at least in this world). What I find myself hoping for in both of my children’s lives is balance, enough good to even out the bad, enough love to mitigate the fear. Enough hope to make getting out of bed in the morning more than an obligation.  And the more I learn about people with Down syndrome in general and Lincoln in particular, the more I come to believe that a real, full, balanced life is not a party that requires 46 chromosomes to get in the door.  Nerve and heart and a sense of humer, yes, those things are imperative.  And those things Linc has in spades.  So I can't wish away his 47th chromosome with some trumped up view of the life unavailable to him.

You know, knowing Sam and I, it’s no surprise we have plenty to say. What continues to be surprising to us is how many people actually read what we have to say. Like last year, we are so flattered, honored, and humbled by all of the kind words and supportive messages we have received about the blog. We just feel like a couple of kids fumbling our way through the sometimes heavy, often confusing, and regularly hilarious hand we have been dealt, trying to make ends meet, trying not to screw these kids up too badly, trying to find joy and peace and more often than not missing the mark and settling for not throttling the little monsters we’re raising. Thank you to everyone who takes a month out of the year to come along with us on the journey and send us the love and support that fuel us the rest of the year.  We love you all!