In One Year

I had always striven to be a kind person. 

When I was growing up, I was terribly teased. Part of why I was teased was for wearing glasses. Apparently I hadn't known that tinting the lenses blue to match my blue frames was not the wisest move for a girl in middle school. Ouch! I can still hear the unkind remarks. I was also teased for being clumsy. A stage that I never seem to have outgrown. (Which I realized yet again when I broke a jar of balsamic vinegar in my pantry a couple of days ago).  In all cases, I have known what rejection feels like for many reasons: not being cool enough, not saying the right things, or wearing the right clothes, or having the "right body type." 

After experiencing all this teasing in school, I have striven to be accepting and encouraging of all types of people. No matter what they look like. No matter how they act. (That doesn't mean some people don't get on my nerves or that I have always risen to the occasion. Just being real about that).

But it took the birth of my second son, Alvaro, to show me that there still was growth to be had in this area of my life. 

 

Alvaro is a great kid. He just turned one on Sunday. He like to eat. Loves to play with his brother. He has ticklish feet. He has straight hair. He can hold his own bottle and LOVES to practice walking, though he doesn't do it unassisted yet. Alvaro also happens to have Down syndrome.

I remember saying so many times in the years before he was born, that if I (hypothetically) had a child with Down syndrome , that it wouldn't matter and we would love him just the same. And while that is a true statement that is lived out daily in my life, it was still such a shock when we received his diagnosis 4 hours after his birth. All manner of fear, anxiety, hopelessness, and helplessness overwhelmed me. Until I met other people who had loved ones with Down syndrome. I quickly found out an extra chromosome may affect or delay some aspects of my son's abilities, but it did not define who he is. He is smart, alert, curious, and sweet. He has so many more great qualities than those listed. 

It didn't take long for me to realize that while I was kind to people with disabilities, I am not entirely sure I approached them with the dignity they deserved.  The definition of dignity is described as "the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect."  After Alvaro was born, I began to see how I regarded adults with Down syndrome as grown up/older children. The very few I encountered I spoke to as if speaking to a 6 year old. I'd interact with other people who may have been incapable of responding back and assumed they didn't have the ability to full comprehend what I was saying. Yes, I was nice. But I am not entirely sure I was approaching them with the quality of honor and respect that I did with those who didn't have a disability. 

As I experienced birth of my son, witnessing his growth, and celebrated his milestones, I have had a rebirth of my own. I have been opened up to a whole community of people who have all sorts of abilities. My misconceptions, prejudices, and perceptions have been radically changed. I no longer approach others with a kindness that hides an attitude that perceives them as less than my equal.  I now approach them with the same dignity and respect I would want to be shown to my son. I have learned  that the differences between us are largely inconsequential. We are more alike than we are different. I have learned to celebrate what they can do instead of focus on what they can't do.

As my son celebrated his first birthday this weekend, I found myself quite emotional and reflective. Not just because our lives are so different than I imagined or feared all those days ago in the hospital. But also because I've learned so much more about dignity. I've learned so much more about respect and love. I've learned that the potential of the individual far outweighs the predictions or caution from any doctor. I've learned so much more about giving and receiving love. And I am grateful.