Believe, Love, Defend

One day I sat in the rocker feeding Cooper while our big kid, Andi, sat next to me. Cooper was close to nine months. We stared at him together in silence. He smiled at us and cuddled up to me. We smiled back. Out of nowhere, my big kid said, "You know, it's too bad about the Down syndrome." My heart stopped. My face burned, instantly ashamed of the way I'd handled the last nine months in front of Cooper's big sister. How many times had I talked about Down syndrome in a negative way? How many times had I cried while holding my baby instead of enjoyed him? I hated this feeling, the feeling of wanting to sink into a hole and never see the light of day again, but something was different on this day.I didn't instantly cry. A new sensation came over me when I heard Andi's statement. I think it was anger mixed with defensiveness.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. I knew it was an innocent remark. I was curious what she was thinking and didn't want her to think I was upset.

"You know,"she replied, “Down syndrome." She said it slowly, as if just the words meant something bad universally.

"Honey," I replied, my voice rising just a little. I tried gathering my thoughts. What do you say to your child when you, yourself, are still figuring out what Down syndrome means? I went with the first thing that came to my mind.

"Look at your brother. How many eyes does he have?"

"He has two eyes," Andi said.

"Yes, and how many eyes do you have?

"I have two eyes, too."

That's right. How many ears does he have?"

"Two."

"Ok, how many ears do you have?"

"I have two ears, too!"

"Look, how many noses does he have?"

"One, just like me!"

We continued looking over Cooper's features, and I showed Andi that he was just the same as her.

"Cooper is your brother," I told her, "and him having Down syndrome is not a bad thing. We will never talk about it like it's a bad thing. It will make him a little different, but that is not bad."

Each word came out stronger than the last. My soul was awakening. My heart filled with the possibilities for my little boy. The words kept coming.

"Cooper won't have things easy, and there will probably be people who want to make fun of him or won't believe in him. We are his family. We all need to believe in him when other people won't. We need to love him no matter what. And we need to defend him when people try to hurt him." My words came out fast and with a resolute tone. Andi looked at me with wide, serious eyes. She smiled at my confidence, and nodded as I spoke. We continued to stare down at Cooper. He smiled back at us.

Believe. Love. Defend.

I've thought about these words a lot since that day. I have encountered therapists and doctors who generalized my son based on his diagnosis, not believing in him to do things they haven't seen done by someone with Down syndrome. I've felt some of the hate that can come online from strangers who are not experienced or educated about Down syndrome. I've heard remarks and seen the stares as we go about our daily life. Sometimes defending him and others with an extra chromosome becomes necessary. I often feel the weight of a world that doesn't understand the worth of a child like mine. There's so much fear associated with Down syndrome that many get the diagnosis and don't even give their child a chance at life.

But I believe that my son will accomplish just as much as any person on Earth. I believe his worth is infinite because he's a child of God, just like the rest of us. I believe he was sent to me to teach me lessons in life that I wouldn't have learned without him. I believe his extra chromosome is a gift, not a burden.

I love my son and would not change a thing about him. I love his smile, his laugh, the way he says all done. I love the way he looks for someone to hug when he's upset. I love how he says, "no" to everything right now. I love his tiny hands and feet. I love the way he plays peek a boo with his baby brother and wrestles with his big sister. I love being his mother and the unique perspective he gives me on life.

I will defend my son at all times. I don't care if you're four or forty years old, I will help you understand that my son is not a person to be ridiculed. This includes asking someone to choose another word besides the "R" word. I will defend him when someone does not think he deserves a chance. I will make sure he is not looked down on or looked over just because of a diagnosis that neither he nor I had any control over him having.

Believe. Love. Defend.

If you're here, I assume you are a positive part of Cooper's tribe. I believe you're someone who believes in, loves, and would defend Cooper if needed. It's my hope that sharing any part of our life would encourage people to believe, love, and defend all people with Down syndrome because you will understand now that a person is a person, no matter how many chromosomes they have.

Thank you for being a part of our story!