Eh, darned if I know, but thinking about it did inspire me to write this...
When I found out that Dylan had Down syndrome, shortly after his birth, I questioned very seriously, love. I questioned my ability to love. To love him. Questioned my desire to love him. To love my son. This baby with Down syndrome.
Honestly, I was afraid of him. For him. For me. For us. I was afraid of what I thought I knew, for I thought I knew what Down syndrome was.
I thought that this baby, the one who was lying in the NICU, the one who would need heart surgery, the one who has Down syndrome - this baby was not the baby who I had planned for. This baby was not Dylan, the one who had grown inside of me. Surely this couldn't be right, could it? I did not plan for this life. I did not plan for Down syndrome. I had planned for a baby. A baby boy. A normal baby boy. Period.
For the first few months, I bit my tongue and held back millions of tears. I watched my son and I waited. I held on. I breathed in, I breathed out.
Time went on and I began to see Dylan. Yes, Down syndrome too, for sure, but I could see Dylan in there somewhere as well. My baby boy. He began to smile. He began to laugh. There was love. It is growing.
Three, four months in and my heart is softening. My fears begin to crack and crumble and my worries are slipping away. Dylan and I have bonded throughout his heart surgery. I'm falling in love.
He is learning to clap. He waves. His personality is absolutely, without a doubt, shining. I am smitten and I am left wondering, what am I missing here? I must be missing something. This is Down syndrome? Is it suppose to be like this? This life is...this is not bad. This life is good. Better than good - it's amazing! But...I thought it was all going to be terrible. I thought it was going to be scary. I thought only negative thoughts.
But why? Why this fear? Negativity is the belief, and it needs to change.
This child. My child. My baby, my son. Dylan. He is...how can I describe what he is in one word?
You may think one thing is for sure - that he is not is normal. Eh, you may be right, for he is not normal, I guess. Neither am I. Heck, my almost 3 year old may appear normal, but I assure you, she's not either. And neither are you. You may think you are, but you aren't - ha! Is anyone? Seriously?
Dylan. He is something much stronger, much better than that anyway. Something so much bigger.
He is love.
Pure, true, honest love.