Take your pity and.......

Brad and I have had this debate several times:  Do they know she has Down syndrome or not?

 There are times when I'm not sure if someone can tell, like the sweet old lady at the grocery store, who is being charmed by the tiny princess wave that Kamdyn loves to do as people walk by.  There are also times when I can see the moment that a person looks at her and knows she has Down syndrome.  Do you know what it is?

It's pity.

And I hate it.

Just today, we stopped at a bakery on the way to an appointment, and as we stood at the counter, getting ready to order our chocolate chip cookies, the man looked at Kamdyn.  With the look.  And I could tell he knew.  And then, he tells me how cute she is, which of course, I know.

How could you not know that?

But when I see that look, the look of pity, I  just want to scoop her up and run away.  Sometimes, if I'm standing in a check out line, and I see it on the people standing behind us in line, I'll stand in between them and Kamdyn.  Almost like I'm a mommy shield that nothing can penetrate, and my force will fight off any negative energy.  I hate to seem cynical or glass half empty, and I don't usually give these things enough thought to let them bother me, but they do hurt.

Then, as we were on our way into the appointment, I was holding the door for a woman who was pushing out a boy in a wheel chair.  She says to me, "Looks like you have your hands full with her."  I'll admit that I have my hands full in general, but Kamdyn is only 1/3 of the reason my hands are full, and the other 2/3 are named Madison and Austin. 

Are there things that are hard about raising a child with special needs?  Well, sure.

But are there things that are hard in raising ANY child?  Yes, of course.

But don't the blessings outweigh the hardships?



In Kamdyn's short 18 months of life, she has reminded me that my highest calling at this very moment is to be a mom.  Not just for Kamdyn, but for all three of my kids.  There is nothing in the world at this very moment that is more important.  They are my chiefest responsibility, my biggest accomplishment, and my most valuable occupation.  This time that I have with them right now is fleeting, and investing in them is the best thing I can do.

I realize I'm preaching to the choir here, because everyone who reads this is either a parent of a child with Down syndrome or my family.

But I just wish that people wouldn't pity.  You think it's hard for me to raise a child with Down syndrome?  It's not, because she is mine.  And I have never felt more called to be in a place in my life more than I do right now.  And I will never have a more fulfilling calling, because she is mine.  I don't need pity, because I am fulfilled.  I am content.  And I am blessed. 

And my daughter does not need pity, because she has Down syndrome.  She is smart.  She is beautiful.  And the world is blessed to have her.

All of the pictures above were taken at the Gettysburg National Park.

Here's some more from our day:

Abraham Lincoln was a big hit.  They sat on his lap and patted his head.  I wonder if Honest Abe ever imagined children climbing on a statue of himself.

Gotta love some belt buckles.

And guns.  Lots of them.

Madison stood in front of this uniform, because, apparently, it was the more feminine looking one out of the two.

Kamdyn has a Popeye eye, because her left eye is a little infected ; )

Devil's Den