Field Trip

“Wait! Nina wait!”

I take off running after my daughter.

“I said wait!”

I can hear her giggles, and she has no intention to stop. On the contrary, she runs faster, so I also have to pick up my pace.

We are attending a school field trip, and she stops running when she reaches her friends who wait for us by a large green wagon the farm let us borrow.

green wagon

When we arrived at the farm, one of the owners approached us and asked if it would be helpful for us to borrow one of their wagons. I was thankful for the offer, as we quickly realized that the terrain was not ideal for my daughter’s walker. I got Nina in the wagon, then I folded up her walker and put it in there, along with my backpack full of water bottles for our little group. The wagon saved her from exhaustion, as there is no way Nina could have walked around the farm for four hours.

Thanks to her fancy ride, when she got down to play she had energy. Enough energy to take off running! She might have an awkward gait, and her knees clank together with every jumpy step, but nonetheless this girl can run and cerebral palsy won’t stop her.

“You little rascal!” I say as I catch up to her just as she falls down besides the wagon in a fit of giggles.

I am laughing too, she is amazing! Once, we thought she would never be able to walk independently, now she is running and her walker is neatly folded up. Thank-you-very-much.

And sometimes it is in the most unexpected places – like a kid farm – that I feel God’s presence and I feel Him whisper, this moment brings me great pleasure.  And I don’t know if it is her running, or if it is her accomplishments, or if it is the sight of me running after her, or the fact that one day He will restore her body completely, all I know is that He’s there, and He is smiling down at us, and this field trip suddenly becomes a Holy moment as I feel covered by His presence.

“Mom, I want to go on the swings next!”

“Mom, let’s go feed the goats!”

“Mom, will you go down the big slide with me?”

Nina and I

For a change I suggest we go walk through the tunnels, “And then I can take your picture Nina!”

So she walks into one of the tunnels, barely keeping her balance as the surface is not flat. I wait for her at the end of the tunnel and I can see the sun is bright, so bright. It illuminates her, creating an aura of light around her.

And God whispers to me once more.

You can see her knees are about to buckle, and she is trying so hard, but I am right here. She is mine. I love her. I delight in her. With your help, I will get her through the challenges of life she will face.

light in tunnel

So I snap a picture, and I smile. Because I know in this journey of parenting a child with special needs I am not alone either, He is with me, He’s got my back. And sometimes He shows me His love by making Himself undoubtedly present at a field trip, smiling down as I run after my daughter, or by the wondrous display of light through a tunnel.

~ Ellen Stumbo

If I Knew Then What I Know Now

At first, having a child with special needs seemed like an impossible and daunting job. Looking back a t the scared mom I was five years ago, I wish I knew then what I know now. If I could go back in time, this is what I would say…

it will be good

Dealing with the diagnosis is one of the hardest parts of the journey.

Eventually, you will get in a new rhythm of life, and sometimes, even if just for a while, you might even forget that your child has a disability.

Grieving comes in waves.

New stages might require new things to grieve. It’s okay, it doesn’t mean you don’t love your child, or that you have not accepted their diagnosis. It is normal to feel this way.

Reaching milestones will be an accomplishment of extravagant joy and celebration.

You will cheer out loud, cry with joy, maybe even do a happy dance. The experience will be exhilarating!

Your child will be a child first.

Their disability will only be a part of who they are, not what defines them.

You will love your child with a fierceness that will surprise you and fuel you every day.

You might wonder where this love comes from. It will transform you. You will become an advocate that fights hard for your child. Whether it is at an IEP meeting, a doctor’s office, or an ignorant comment that needs to be politely addressed. Your kid will fill you with a  courage you never knew you had.

Your heart will expand one thousand times over.

Because of your child, your understanding of love will change. It will expand!

Your child will bring you incomparable JOY.

You might wonder if your child’s disability might bring you limitations. While this might be true in certain circumstances, your child will be bring you more joy than you ever experienced.

You will come to realize how much you needed your child.

Someday, you will look back and see how God has used your child to mold your heart and transform your life. You will see your child as a gift, be thankful that they are yours, and realize you needed them as much as they needed you.

Thanks to your child, your priorities will change as you understand what really matters in life.

Having a child with a disability will show you what really matters in life. It is not about accomplishments, eloquence, or performance, but the simple fact that we are created by God, and for God, and His love is present in our lives.

It will not always be easy, but it will be good!

You can do it, and you will be better than okay.

~ Ellen Stumbo

Mothers Share Truths Learned Because of Down Syndrome

nichole Today is World Down Syndrome Day! March 21, because people with Down syndrome have 3 copies of the 21st chromosome.  Many use this day as an opportunity to educate, or spread awareness of the different challenges that these individuals face. It is a day set apart to celebrate our kids, siblings, cousins, friends, and neighbors with Down syndrome.

Celebrate Down syndrome? Yes, I know, it might seem puzzling to say that Down syndrome is celebrated. After all, who would willingly choose to have a child with Down syndrome?

The truth is, most of us did not choose to become special needs parents. For many of us, dealing with the diagnosis was hard, we had to let go of hopes and dreams. Yet, as time goes by and we find ourselves parenting and loving our children with Down syndrome, we change. We begin to use words to describe them, like “gift,” or “blessing.”

Here at Not Alone, there are four of us writers parenting children with Down syndrome. We have different styles, we have different voices, yet our heart is the same. Today, on Down syndrome day, we want to gather our voices to share with you what we have learned from our children, and the ways in which our love has expanded.

Truths we have learned because of our children with Down syndrome

From Stephanie O. Hubach

Stephanie and son

Every human being is a unique, dynamic mixture of capacity and brokenness. We each have God-given gifts, and we each experience different degrees of difficulty in every aspect of our personhood. What we call “disability” is simply a more noticeable form of the brokenness and difficulty that is common to the human experience. Tim’s not broken and I’m not whole. Each of us is a dynamic mixture of elements of capacity and elements of brokenness in different packaging.

The image of God isn’t primarily a function of reason. When Christians talk about the sanctity of human life and the image of God, we often assume that one of the hallmarks of people being created in God’s image is our capacity to reason. But Tim has taught me that we primarily image God when we reflect His character. Whose character looks more like Jesus on a daily basis? Mine? Or the guy in my house who dances joyfully, loves deeply, prays fervently, weeps over sin, and forgives quickly?

The deepest prayer life doesn’t come from effectively articulating my needs, but from understanding who God is and trusting Him. I love to hear Tim pray. He shares what is on his heart very openly with his heavenly Father. Out loud. And he utterly trusts Him to take care of his needs. And then he lets go. It catches my attention every time.

The joy of human achievement is best understood in relative terms, not absolute terms. Tim has shown me that it doesn’t matter how your abilities or achievements compare to “the other guy”—what matters is: How are you developing the capacities that God has given to you? It doesn’t matter if you “come in first.” It matters that He is first, and that you celebrate the life that has been given to you.

From Gillian Marchenko

Mom and Evie and Polly

What I love about my two daughters with Down syndrome, and what I want others to know about them is simple: They are normal little girls, made of the stuff other little girls have, flesh, blood, love, laughter, selfishness, wonder, mischief, curiosity, impatience …

When Polly was born I ignorantly assumed she would not be a typical little girl. I made the mistake of thinking she would not be the little girl I wanted. But her presence in my life and the God-ordained appearance of her sister Evangeline through international adoption from Ukraine daily eradicates my pre-conceived notions about individuals with disabilities. Sure, my girls have special needs. But they also have what I call “special powers,” the ability to love without limits, to smile at a new day without drudgery, and to teach this Mama over and over what really matters in life.

On World Down syndrome Day, I ask you to remember that regardless of a child’s ability or disability, she is a child first, and should be empowered and celebrated all the days of her life. If forced to point out differences about my girls, well then, they have ample supply of the good parts of the human heart, gifts from God himself to reveal his glory: joy, love, kindness, courage, endurance. Pay attention to my daughters, and to what they have to offer, because these are the things that most of us find wanting in ourselves.

From Amy Julia Becker

Becker and daughter

Our oldest daughter Penny, age 7, has Down syndrome, and through the course of her life Penny has taught me two almost contradictory truths about our common humanity:

One, that basing a person’s worth upon their achievement is problematic for all of us. I threw away the baby books with developmental milestones early on in Penny’s life, and I worked hard to let go of expectations of when she should be able to do specific tasks. But then I realized that I needed to do the same for myself and everyone else. If my identity is based upon my ability, then my identity is always in question. I’m always racing to keep up and desperately hoping to be able to prove myself. Penny has shown me that our identity resides in our belovedness, in the fact that we are loved by God and one another.

Two, that once we know our identity as the beloved ones, we are free to explore our abilities without pressure to perform. Once I let go of expectations of who Penny “must” become, once I let go of the idea that I had been entitled to a certain type of child, she then surprised me by demonstrating her very own particular abilities.

Today, Penny is the beloved one, first and foremost. She also happens to love to read, dance, and take care of her little sister. She loves spelling “medium-hard” words and adding numbers together on her fingers. She loves cuddling with her mom and listening to music with her dad and playing Mary Poppins with her little brother. Penny is the beloved one who loves in return.

From Ellen Stumbo

Choosing love

She holds nail polish in her hands, tugs at my sleeve and asks, “Paint nails?” Her smile is like an electric shock, deep love for this little girl running through my veins. “Okay,” I say. She runs into the living room, sets a magazine on the floor, and gently places her hands on it. As I paint her fingernails she giggles, “It tick-us!” I don’t think it tickles her really, but I end up giggling along with her.

Nichole might not get to be a college graduate, but she is my teacher of life. She has taught me what celebration looks and feels like. The power of cheering for others and the freedom of dance. She has taught me that a worthy performance is not found in a basketball court or a stage, but on a living room floor matching words and letters, and in saying simple broken sentences, “Paint nails?” I see it as she embraces hurting people and her love brings them to tears, “She makes me feel loved like I’ve never been before,” they say. I have seen worship to God that is so honest and seems so pleasing, that it moves me. I see it as Nichole tries to sing along at church, dancing to her favorite song, “Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you, wherever you go!”

She has partnered with God to work in my selfish heart. A heart that many times is so lost in this world that it forgets that the standards I live for are not the ones set by people, but those set by God. She lives them, and she teaches them to me.

Once, I was sad my daughter had Down syndrome. Yet as we paint her fingernails Strawberry Shortcake pink, I am overwhelmed with love for this little girl, and incredibly thankful that she is mine.

Happy World Down Syndrome Day!

- Ellen Stumbo

I See You

Having a child with a disability can be difficult. There are moments you wonder if anyone will ever understand or get what it is like to walk in your shoes. You parent a child with special needs and sometimes you feel alone and invisible.

But you are not. Today, I want to tell you that I see you.

I see you

I see you in the middle of the day, tired. Your hair pulled back in a ponytail and a stain on your shirt. You sacrifice so much for your child. You are beautiful.

I see you at the ballpark, cheering and encouraging the kids playing in the Little League. Yet, I know while you cheer your heart aches, wishing that your son could play ball too, not in a special league, but here, running and moving his body like those kids rather than spending his days in a wheelchair. You are courageous.

I see at the therapy office programming your child’s speech device, entering phrases and words to help her communicate with others. You lean over to your spouse with a grin and push a button, I hear the computer’s voice say, “I farted.” You are funny.

I see you at the support group. New parents are visiting with their baby, they seem scared, nervous, and they are trying to deal with the diagnosis. You approach them, ask questions, affirm their feelings, and assure them it won’t always be easy, but it will be good. You are compassionate.

I see you walking into the school for the third time this school year. A binder full of notes, lists, and goals. Your don’t feel your child’s team is following the IEP, and you won’t give up inclusion for your child. You will do whatever it takes to provide the services that your child needs. You are resilient.

I see you at the hospital, a place you are too familiar with. Tubes, machines, tests, and specialists. Your child’s feeding tube is the least of your concerns. You are brave.

I see you at the restaurant, with a menu in your hand. But the noise is too much for your child, the smells and unfamiliarity overwhelm him. Soon, he is yelling and screaming. While people stare, you exit the place and get into your car as quickly as you can. You are flexible.

I see you at church asking one of the new moms if you can bring her a meal on Tuesday afternoon. You have so much on your plate, but you also remember how hard the first few weeks are after a baby comes home. You are generous.

I see you at social gatherings where well meaning people ask ignorant questions about your child or her disability, they make hurtful comments, or fail to recognize that your child is a child first. You don’t get angry, you don’t yell. Instead, you smile, answer their questions politely, and you educate them in a gentle manner and thank them for their concerns. You are gracious.

I see you out there in the world, living a selfless life. You give so much, you feel so deeply, and you love so abundantly. You are admirable.

These qualities you display are precious gifts you give to your child and to those around you, they don’t go unnoticed…I see you.

- Ellen Stumbo

Choosing Love

Down syndrome, choosing loveI held a precious baby girl in my arms. So perfect. So soft. My heart pumped love through my veins. A fierce, passionate love that would conquer the world for the baby that slept in my arms. Finally, I thought to myself, I understand God’s unconditional love for me, for there is nothing this child can or cannot do to make stop loving her.

However, it was the birth of my second daughter that shattered my understanding of love, for my new baby girl brought with her a diagnosis of Down syndrome.

And so I held a broken baby in my arms. Her face different, with some of the common physical characteristics of Down syndrome. My heart pumped fear, grief, and shame through my veins. Why God! I challenged Him, Why did you give me a broken baby? Why did you choose me? I have served you faithfully, and I said you could do with my life what you wanted, but this?

My baby also had a broken heart – an ASD and a VSD – and a rare form of jaundice. I felt lost. Lonely. I was the pastor’s wife shaking her fist at God and pleading with Him, “Why me!”

What did this diagnosis mean to our family? Would our life be covered with limitations? What about her big sister, what would it be like for her to have a disabled sibling? And what about all the dreams and hopes we had for our child? They were gone! All of them, part of a crushed dream replaced by questions of our future.

I knew I was supposed to love my baby regardless of her diagnosis. I knew I was supposed to love her unconditionally because I was her mother. I knew I was supposed to trust God and accept His gift, but I couldn’t. Immersed in my own grief and loss, love was nowhere to be found.

In those moments of self-pity, I secretly wished that my sick baby would die. Because her diagnosis was too much for me to handle, and because God surely knew I could never be the parent of a child with special needs.

After Nichole’s two week check-up, the doctor, concerned about Nichole’s coloring and swelling in her abdomen, sent us to the lab for extensive blood work. A few hours later, he called.

“I just got the results back from Nichole’s blood tests. It does appear that my suspicions were right and she has a very serious liver condition called “biliary atresia.” If it is not treated soon, it can be fatal. I have already contacted Mayo clinic and they are waiting for you.”

I struggled to hang up the phone. My hand shaking.

Oh dear Lord. I asked you to take my baby away, and now you are letting me have my way. My baby is going to die.

Guilt and Fear punched me on the face, knocking me down into a heap on the floor where I wailed.

I faced the dark hole I had been living in since Nichole’s birth. It was deep, murky, and tight. It had become a prison.  Life happened around me, yet I was stuck. My tears had been so abundant I would soon be covered in my own grief. And it was my despair over what I saw as unfair that would cause me to drown, not my baby, and not her diagnosis. The unending tears blinded me.

In the hole, I stared at my ugly selfishness. Would I be able to stand before the Lord and answer to Him for the lack of love I had for Nichole? Could I live knowing I held back from loving my baby because she was not what I had expected, not what I wanted?

This selfishness was a reflection of my imperfect heart. Nichole, only 2 weeks old, was so beautiful, and she was perfect.

It wasn’t her that was broken, I was. So broken in fact, that I needed Nichole.

It had been easy to love my first born, my perfect child. She met all my expectations; she was everything I always wanted. Was my love really unconditional? Or was my love lacking understanding of what it truly means to love someone not for who they are, or what they do, but simply because of their being.

I pulled myself to my knees. I stretched out my arms to God and declared to Him, with every ounce of strength I had…

“I choose love Lord! I choose love! From this day on, with everything that is within me, I choose love!”

Choosing loveAnd God pulled me out of the hole and held me in His arms. Because He had chosen unconditional love for me too, His broken child.

A little girl with Down syndrome came to change my life and heart forever. I am madly in love with this girl, smitten, she has me wrapped around her crooked little finger. And she has taught me what it means to love – to really love – unconditionally.

~ Ellen Stumbo

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