I’m not going to justify the life of a person with Down syndrome, explaining chromosomes and how they give back to the community, and I promise to never ask you to explain or defend your child’s existence either. All I’m going to ask is for you to consider the possibility that raising a child with a disability is mostly about simply raising a child.
We throw around words all the time, using hyperbole to force others to understand in the flicker of a moment the feelings we have spent days, months, even years cultivating. We don’t always mean what we say, and parsing language can often be an exercise in futility.
This is an entirely new world that we’ve so completely absorbed it feels like we’ve had Down syndrome all along and therefore find it fairly unremarkable. We haven’t lost our identities to a diagnosis, or we have and I haven’t noticed.