No, Mommy I Do It

*Foreword:

If you’ve been reading along, you may have noticed that most of my posts thus far have been quite emotional—most introducing you to what it’s like learning that your child has special needs, dealing with your emotional response and the realities you face, then allowing God to heal your heart as you embrace the beautiful new journey that He’s called you to experience.  It has been quite a fascinating and introspective time for me as I’ve reflected on all of the feelings that I had toward the beginning; in retrospect they all seem a little silly, but at the time they are very real and important to validate in order to move forward.  As I admitted, I certainly have dark and emotional moments now and again, but the majority of the time I’m so smitten with both of my children and their personalities that I don’t think at all about Rachel having Down Syndrome. In fact, this month is absolutely the most that I’ve ever thought about it simply due to writing this blog.

So, I’m moving along from sharing with you the initial phase of grief and bewilderment to sharing the wonder of Rachel and who she is, and how she has single-handedly opened my eyes to see that the Down Syndrome diagnosis is not an emotional death sentence, but rather an extraordinary license to enjoy the little things in life.  It is an invitation to be joyful, to embrace your future and your hope—because that is what this month is really all about.  It’s not about mourning Down Syndrome, it is about embracing, enjoying, celebrating and enlightening others to the beauty of Down Syndrome.*

I am biased, and I know that.  Be that as it may, I feel compelled to tell you that Rachel is just…amazing.  If there is a developmental wall that science or society dictates that she will not be able to climb, she’ll scale the wall with a smile on her face as if to say, “Really?  You thought this was too much for me?” Anytime that I assume what her limitations are regarding her ability to understand what is going on she smoothly and deftly shows me that I simply cannot assign limitations to her because she will immediately exceed—and shine with joy while she’s doing it.

Just the other day I had a front row seat to a display of Rachel-awesomeness that left me humble and beaming with immense pride.  Sunday afternoon was our first community group meeting of the month. Our community group is made up of a few wonderful families from our church that get together two times a month to fellowship, learn about each other and God and—of course—eat good food.  Between all the families in attendance we had 15 kids ranging in age from 9 months to 7 years, which translates into a lot of boisterous noise, laughing, crying, flying toy-projectiles and just plain fun.  At one point in the evening I was outside watching a few of the kids play when I spotted Rachel and another girl her age playing with a jump rope.  They were trying to spin the jump rope together in such a way that, if there had been another participant, someone could jump rope in between the two of them.  I immediately noticed that Rachel didn’t seem to grasp that she needed to turn the rope in the same direction as her playmate in order for it to work correctly.  I could see her friend getting a little frustrated as they would stop and she would say, “No, Rachel, you need to do it the other way.  Ok, ready let’s go THIS way.” But, still, Rachel would inevitably be spinning it the other way.  My natural instinct was to jump in and help Rachel to see how she needed to turn the rope.  I knelt behind her, put my hand over her hand and begun to turn the rope in the same direction as Emma.

“No, mommy.  I do it.” Rachel said emphatically.

“But Rachel, do you see how you’re spinning it the wrong way?  You need to spin it the other way for it to work.”

“Mommy, I do it.”

So I let her.

And still she continued to spin it the wrong way.  Oh dear, she just doesn’t understand what we are saying. The concept of having to coordinate their movements is a bit beyond her comprehension level, I thought.  I noted that Emma was quite naturally getting increasingly frustrated and my next instinct was to explain to her that Rachel doesn’t always understand and I’m sorry that she’s not figuring it out, maybe she should play with something else.

But I stopped before opening my mouth. Rachel does not need me to make apologies and excuses for her. She is a smart girl, let’s see how she handles this. So I firmly clamped my mouth shut and watched.

Rachel and her friend Asher

In the next minute or so I watched Rachel study Emma as she turned the jump rope; I could almost see the gears and physio-mathematical calculations churning inside her beautiful little head.  Slowly I saw Rachel begin to change the direction of her arm as she turned the jump rope and watched as an undeniable grin of pride began to build on her face.  With each coordinated turn of the jump rope being perfectly in sync the girls began to giggle together and shared a beautiful moment of collaborative play.  As their game came to an end, Rachel turned around, looked at me with those incredibly intelligent eyes of hers and said:

“See, Mommy! I do it!”

Yes, Rachel, I see that you can do it.  I am so proud of you for kicking the expectations of others squarely in the face and being yourself. And I’m thankful that you are patient with me and my limited thinking; you truly are the teacher and I am the student.