It's hard. It gets harder every day. As Babe grows it gets tougher and tougher to write about anything else but you.
Yes, you. The world. The people in it.
You, and not my daughter, are the reason for this blog. As Babe gets older and develops and becomes her own little person (with a not-so-little or contained person's personality) my mind revolves less and less around Down syndrome. I see her as different, yes, but I see everyone as different, and regardless of how other parents feel I don't see her as any 'more different' than others. I just don't see it. I don't. Honest.
I see her daddy's chin and easy smile on her, I see my own impatience in her demands, I see her musicality, her freakish sense of rhythm, her first encounter with the christmas tree, her empathy for crying babies, her excitement at the piano, her slightly broken crawl, her smiles and screams, her quirks and her new pink glasses. Just her.
And then someone reminds me that she has Down syndrome. Instead of the usual 'how cute' we get the 'my cousin has Ds so I have a special place in my heart for kids with Ds (I'm making this more correct instead of quoting accurately, but I just can't bring myself to not use people first language). Someone names their cat 'Tard'. Someone uses the words 'retarded', 'mentally deficient', 'mentally challenged' or something of the sort as an insult, to signify something that is slow, broken, or of lesser value, and I find myself acutely reminded that I need to remember that Babe has Down syndrome.
Because if I don't, and I forget to teach her how to tell the world, diplomatically and not, to fuck off and let her be her own person, some of the world might just sneak up on her and make her sad, or worse yet, not give her a chance at living her life the way she wants to.
I'd never be able to forgive myself.
My biggest worry for the future is not whether my kid will learn to walk, talk, drive a car, or find love, it's whether the world, you, will give her a chance to try. Instead of seeing her as a representative of 'those with Down syndrome'.
Her farts smell like goat's milk and salami, you know.
If you steal my photos, creepy Brazilian, I won't post any more of Babe.
I have equal issues with the word 'special', much bandied about during my daughter's time at primary school. It went hand in hand with the words 'autistic' and 'aspergers', but only the S word made me want to punch them in their falsely-sympathetic faces.ReplyDelete
Don't stop blogging because every time you do post, you blow apart another pre-conceived idea that the human world seems riddled with. Consider it social laser-tagging. With added swearing.
Dear Extranjera, I was an avid reader of your blog and it was the reason for many a smile on gloomy days. Lately due to personal problems I lost hope in life. Today after a longtime I read your blog. I am happy for your strength and courage most people chicken out of the pregnancy. I admire you and I have newfound respect for you. I am a physiotherapist and I worked in Cerebral palsy clinics and with children. DS varies in its features and there are people who had a successful life even going onto having kids. Its all about how we look at them. I wish and hope the best for your baby by the way she looks adorable. By the time she grows up I hope the world becomes a better place for her and hope she becomes a shining example of what she could do even with any limitations she has. I admire you for your courage and loving life. I have got no words. I used to follow your blog silently but for the first time I felt the need to comment. Keep smiling and I wish everything works out well for you. I will read all your posts that I have missed in the past one year now. regards.ReplyDelete
Your daughter is adorable.ReplyDelete
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