Forever a Parent

I am typing this one-handed; Grant is nestled against my chest with the other arm. We've spent a lot of time like this lately. He is healing my heart one hug at a time. With each snuggle, he claims me more as his mama, and my instinct to protect and nurture him strengthens. When I look at him, I no longer immediately see Down Syndrome; rather, I see innocence and vulnerability and patience. His eyes, more and more open these days, search me for a sense of belonging. Love, you are mine. I will always claim you and embrace you and believe in you. Your mama is always going to be right here, loving you gratefully. 

One of the first thoughts I had when that nurse walked in and uttered the words Down Syndrome was that Clay and I would be parents forever. Here I was, still numb from the c-section, and I was wishing away parenthood. It's amazing how before I even became a parent, I had images of what my parenting experience would look like: chubby baby legs, bedtime stories, first days of school, family dinners, soccer practices, dances, shopping for a college. Clay and I would cry as we drove away from the beautiful quad somewhere but we'd also embrace lazy mornings without sporting events and uninterrupted bookstore wanderings. We'd pat ourselves on the back and say man, I hope we raised them right and look forward to the phone calls home while we drank a bottle of wine and watched whatever shows we darn felt like watching. 

I laugh when I think about this image now because I have come to powerfully realize three things:

1. Individuals with Down Syndrome continue to surpass every expectation that might exist for them. Adults with DS are working a myriad of jobs and living independently--and most didn't have the benefit of Early Intervention, which studies show dramatically improves their development and abilities. I met an 8 year-old the other day who is ahead of her reading level and beautifully verbal, social, and physical. I was encouraged.

2. I love that I thought parenting ended when the kids go to college. Clay's and my parents must be cracking up at that notion. One thing I have learned through this experience (ah, what haven't I learned?) is that PARENTING NEVER ENDS. I am 33 years old and need my parents more than ever. They were the first and only call I made right after the diagnosis. Clay's parents dropped everything and flew into town because we so clearly needed them. In the days following Grant's birth, my mother managed everything for me--communication with friends and family, meals, Will's care, transportation to and from the NICU--because it was all I could do to hold myself semi-together in the face of all the doctors and nurses examining Grant. When Clay's mother came to stay with us for a week (thank the LORD), I was a total zombie--and she took care of our little family and our little house like she wouldn't want to be doing anything else (which we all know isn't true--we all were a hot mess that week). Clay and I went over to our friends' house on Saturday night and my parents babysat. Got a career question? We call our parents. Check our emails and mailbox...yup, consistent love there from our parents. We haven't let our poor parents go, so why would I think parenting ends when kids turn 18? Sure, it constantly changes, but we will always be parents to Will and we will always be parents to Grant. And the more I think about it, the more I believe that to be a gift. I don't ever want to NOT be their mama (except maybe when they throw a crazy tantrum in Target. Then I will walk away and pretend not to know them).

3. My love for Grant doubles every time I look at him. I am starting to think life with him around, if that is what our lives look like, might just be exactly what we need.

I don't know much these days. But I do know these two things:

1.) I am called to be Grant's mama. 

2.) Everything is going to be okay.

I am also noticing disability (I hate this term, by the way) everywhere I turn. Here are two cool stories about the way "disability" brings forth transformative love. Pretty darn beautiful. 

Love always.