By Sharon ChielliniWhen I took Nico to the park today I was overwhelmed by the number of children scattering about. The weather was beautiful and as I released Nico from his seat belt and his feet hit the ground, he took off running as fast as he could go with his stuffed friend Bert from Sesame Street dangling at his side. The big handicap swing was the first place he always headed to first. Just as we approached the special swing, a Dad was getting his daughter out, and Nico swiftly climbed in. He snapped the harness in place, tucked Bert into the crook of his arm and popped his thumb into his mouth and waited for me to give him that first big push that he loves so much.
As Nico enjoyed the ride, children would walk by and stare. When he gets excited, Nico drools a little more than usual and he makes funny noises when he's happy, which prompted one little boy to ask "Why does he make that noise?" I simply replied. "Because he likes to." Nico never minds when people stare. He never even seems to notice. But I notice, and it hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot.
When Nico tired of the special swing he motioned for me to get him out. Off they went, Bert and Nico to the next adventure. As Nico approached the jungle gym and decided which slide to go down, again children stared as he made his happy noises. One little girl asked "Why does he drool like that?" I replied "because he can't help it." I heard the child mutter "Ewww" as she made a face and scurried away. After 7 years of answering questions from curious children, I've noticed that my answers have gotten shorter and shorter. Why couldn't people just see Nico as I saw him? As Nico gleefully slid down the slide, I noticed a mom use a tissue to wipe off the seat where Nico had sat before she allowed her child to sit down and go down the slide. She glanced at me with no emotion, not appearing to care that I had seen what she had done.
In a few moments Nico took off again. As he gingerly walked across a bridge that bounced around, he lost his balance and fell over as some larger children bustled by. Before I could come to his aid, a little girl about 6 or 7 years old bent down to help him up and when she noticed that Nico was "different" I expected her to quickly walk away. Instead she exclaimed "Awww you sweet lil' thing! You are SO cute! You wanna play wit' me?" She valiantly protected Nico as other children flew past them on the bridge. When the coast was clear, she gently bounced the bridge until Nico smiled and laughed and then she gently took him by the hand, not minding that it was wet and slimy, and led him to safety and over to a nearby slide. She patiently helped him go down the slide and up the stairs several times.
The girl lifted her head as a woman yelled "Annie! Time to go!" Then she bent down and gave Nico a kiss on the top of the head and ran to her mother. Too choked up to respond, I smiled at the girl and waved as she turned to make sure Nico was OK. She had been Nico's champion that day and didn't even know it. She had been my champion too.
On the ride home from the park, I recalled an encounter with a little boy with Down Syndrome when I was pregnant with Nico. I was browsing around one day at Beall's Outlet and out of nowhere a little boy popped his head out of a nearby clothing rack, his face inches from mine and exclaimed in a loud voice "MAMA?!"
Startled, I looked around for the boys mother and saw no one. Again, he asked me earnestly "MAMA?!!" with a big smile on his face and I thought "Where is this boys mother and why is she allowing him to go around annoying people?" As I tried to ignore him he obviously decided that I was not his mother and disappeared into the next clothing rack. I thought of my unborn child and shuddered at the thought of having a child....like that.
That little girl in the park put me to shame. I had been just like that Mom who wiped off the slide where Nico had sat, not seeing the little boy for who he really was... adorable and loving, inquisitive and happy.
Within just a few weeks of meeting that little boy, I would be standing in my kitchen, holding the phone extension to my ear as the pediatrician told my husband on the cordless that he had some bad news...Nico's Kareotype results were in..."I'm sorry to have to tell you this but Nico has Down Syndrome...won't look like his brothers and sisters.....developmental delay...genetic testing..." His voice would trail off as I collapsed to a chair and the phone clattered to the floor.
I wouldn't have been nearly as upset if I had known who Nico would be today and how much joy he would bring to our lives. Of course, for Nico's sake, we wish he didn't have any extra chromosomes but for us, having Nico in our lives has taught us to look at life from a whole new angle and has raised the bar on the simple things in life...joy, compassion, understanding, love... I would never want to go back to being the person I was before. Knowing Nico has changed me, and change is good.
But oh how I wish I could go back in time and give that little boy in the store a hug, help him find his mother and tell her how beautiful her child is. Unfortunately I can't go back in time, but one thing I can do, is take a little more time at the park, or the store, or anywhere else that Nico stands out in a crowd and help people understand a little bit better that different can be a good thing and that God doesn't make mistakes.
I hope you have time to watch the following video. The song was written by Steve Moser, the father of a little girl with Down syndrome. Nico has his own video too at http://adowniediary.blogspot.com/
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Until next time my friend,
Strength and honor in Christ
