let it shine

Sometimes after I take a picture, I look at.  Does it look like she has Down syndrome in this picture?  I still have times when I ask.  Or times when I think, she doesn't look like she has Down syndrome right now.

It doesn't matter whether the look is there or not.  Look or not, Down syndrome is there.

I was sitting at a craft show on Saturday when a little girl, whose mother had a table across the room, walked up to me.  She very politely walked up and said, "Excuse me."  I looked up and replied, "Yes."  When we locked eyes, she came right next to me and asked, "Does she stick her tongue out like that a lot."  My heart started beat faster as it felt like it was sinking inside my chest.  Even though it was only a child asking, the idea of someone pointing out Kamdyn being different hurt inside.  What was she going to ask next.  How do I respond.  What should I say. 

One thing I have learned in my experience with children is that the simplest answer usually works the best.  So while thoughts of Down syndrome and low muscle tone were racing through my head, my better judgement chimed in, and reminded me that she is probably just bored and wanting someone to talk to.  So I responded, "Yeah, she does stick it out a lot."  To which this sweet little girl said, "Oh.  I used to stick my tongue out too when I was a baby."  And she skipped off, carefree and happy.

People may or may not notice right now that Kamdyn has Down syndrome.  Most people just see an adorable, tiny baby.  But what will it be like when she is 4 or 5 years old, and other kids notice that she doesn't talk the same, or look the same, or that she needs help doing things that they can do on their own.  It haunts me a little. 

When she was first born, I was afraid to tell people that Kamdyn has Down syndrome.  I was afraid of what they would think of her, or what they might say about her.  I was afraid that she would be judged, or that she wouldn't be accepted.  Well, I've seen how loving and accepting our family and friends have been.  But I am still afraid of the ridicule, judgement, and cruelty of the world.  Not everyone values her like we do.

At times I wish she was still a part of me.  That she could be so close that she would constantly feel the love in my heart for her.  And that if the world ever got too scary, I could just safely tuck her away.  I still don't like leaving her.  For a month or so, I was putting her in the church nursery.  But when "cold season" started, I was relieved to claim those hours back.  I know people love her, and they will take care of her.  But I just want to hold her close as long as I can.

One day, I'll have to let go some more and let her shine her light for all the world.  But for now, I'll hold her close and let her light keep shining brightly on our family.