I never knew I wanted a child with Down Syndrome until I had one



 



I had a dream this past week that Baker woke up without Down Syndrome.

Like his extra chromosome was absorbed into his plush minky sheets.

Or as if the sandman had carted it off in his knapsack and tucked it beside the lavender he used for lulling.

It was gone.

Kaput. 

Vamoose.

 

 

 

His beautiful eyes still boasted their autumn pools, but lacked the almond slant that never fails to draw me in and captivate my whole being.

 

His tongue remained tucked obediently inside his cheek, not once lagging like it does on occasion, especially when he is focusing so intently.

 

His hands hung by his side not in front of his face for signing, as words bounded from his lips articulate and coherent and utterly foreign.

 

As I reached in to hug him, his body did not collapse into mine, as is my very favorite thing about Baker - the way his low muscle tone makes him puddle into my eager embrace.

He was stiff.

Solid.

Strong.

 

His steps did not waiver, not once did his balance falter. He was sure footed and walked with a stability his little body has never known.

 

In that instant, he became a typical child.

Gone were the thoughts of IEPs.

Therapies were tossed into oblivion. 

His struggles became successes. 

The specialists on speed dial were no more.

 

I sat abruptly in bed. Tears streaming. Faint whimpers escaped my lips.

I navigated through the dark room and padded the familiar steps to Baker's bed.

I picked him up and felt his warm body fold sleepily into mine.

 

It was just a dream.

He was still the same Baker Boy I had read Let me Hold You Longer, while his little body relaxed and his eyes grew heavy.

He was still the same Baker Boy I had rocked and sang "This Little Light of Mine," and to seal the deal, "You are My Sunshine" only hours earlier. 

Nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

 

I don't know who said it originally, but I believe it to the very depths of my being.

I never knew I wanted a child with Down Syndrome until I had one.

No truer words have ever been spoken.

 

He is loved exactly the way he is.

He is one of our Creator's greatest masterpieces.

He was crafted in love.

He was knit together wonderfully.

He is a joy spreader, a light brightener, a glad giver. 

 

 

Being his mother is the greatest blessing.

Watching his life bring glory to our Jesus is an incredible gift.

 

Just the way you are, sweet Baker, we love you just the way you are.

  

"For we know that in all things, Christ works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."

Romans 8:28