I am Overwhelmed

...that so many people took the time to read and comment here yesterday.

For a tiny little blog like mine to get three or four times my usual daily number of visitors in just one day is...well...just a bit overwhelming.

Thank you to Jennifer and Pinwheels for sending folks our way.

Just like the tough times, waves of gratitude come unexpectedly. (I wrote about this in response to the tremendous amount of support we received through my brain surgery in '04 and during our first Buddy Walk last year. You can find that here.)

I started this blog and continue to post writing and pictures to show just how much we love and celebrate Bridget, and to help others see that a diagnosis of Down syndrome is far from the worst thing in the world. (I could keep it all for myself, but I feel selfish not sharing Bridget and all we have learned through knowing and loving her.)

I hoped that someone, somewhere would find this blog at a time when they really needed a boost.

I hoped that people who did not know someone with Ds would visit here and see my daughter--our love--and understand that she has potential and value just like everyone else.

I hoped that people in the "special needs" community would come here for information about Bridget's development and our experiences with her--as well as for support.

What I didn't expect was the incredible sense of connection I would develop with other parents traveling the same path. I didn't expect that I would be reading, almost daily, about other children and families who are working their way through so many of the same issues we're dealing with--that I'd be so invested in their lives and gaining so much myself. Thank you to everyone else who is searching, writing, learning, loving & sharing.

I am grateful for all of it...

I am Overwhelmed

...that so many people took the time to read and comment here yesterday.

For a tiny little blog like mine to get three or four times my usual daily number of visitors in just one day is...well...just a bit overwhelming.

Thank you to Jennifer and Pinwheels for sending folks our way.

Just like the tough times, waves of gratitude come unexpectedly. (I wrote about this in response to the tremendous amount of support we received through my brain surgery in '04 and during our first Buddy Walk last year. You can find that here.)

I started this blog and continue to post writing and pictures to show just how much we love and celebrate Bridget, and to help others see that a diagnosis of Down syndrome is far from the worst thing in the world. (I could keep it all for myself, but I feel selfish not sharing Bridget and all we have learned through knowing and loving her.)

I hoped that someone, somewhere would find this blog at a time when they really needed a boost.

I hoped that people who did not know someone with Ds would visit here and see my daughter--our love--and understand that she has potential and value just like everyone else.

I hoped that people in the "special needs" community would come here for information about Bridget's development and our experiences with her--as well as for support.

What I didn't expect was the incredible sense of connection I would develop with other parents traveling the same path. I didn't expect that I would be reading, almost daily, about other children and families who are working their way through so many of the same issues we're dealing with--that I'd be so invested in their lives and gaining so much myself. Thank you to everyone else who is searching, writing, learning, loving & sharing.

I am grateful for all of it...

Best Friends Photo Shoot--Conny Wenk

In case you haven't had a chance to visit photographer Conny Wenk's blog recently, she's moved here. RUN, don't walk :)...to check out these incredible photos of best friends Tamara & Giuliana (both in 7th grade, both have Ds). These pictures highlight each girl's individual personality (or depth of dimension) & also their connectedness.

Conny has such a talent for capturing the sweetness of LIFE in her photos. They are vibrant and interesting and full of information about the subjects.

In the pictures of Tamara and Giuliana, we see two hip, fun-loving girls who happen to have Down syndrome. Both girls are stylish, love cell phones, laptop computers and listening to music on their IPods. In a few of the shots, the girls are in Starbucks hanging out and genuinely enjoying each other's company. Talk about blasting stereotypes...

Best Friends Photo Shoot--Conny Wenk

In case you haven't had a chance to visit photographer Conny Wenk's blog recently, she's moved here. RUN, don't walk :)...to check out these incredible photos of best friends Tamara & Giuliana (both in 7th grade, both have Ds). These pictures highlight each girl's individual personality (or depth of dimension) & also their connectedness.

Conny has such a talent for capturing the sweetness of LIFE in her photos. They are vibrant and interesting and full of information about the subjects.

In the pictures of Tamara and Giuliana, we see two hip, fun-loving girls who happen to have Down syndrome. Both girls are stylish, love cell phones, laptop computers and listening to music on their IPods. In a few of the shots, the girls are in Starbucks hanging out and genuinely enjoying each other's company. Talk about blasting stereotypes...

Living in a World of Possibility

In the past few days, I've seen several posts on other blogs which center around two basic issues many of us are dealing with: (1) finding the difficult balance between getting our children the help they need while never underestimating their potential, and (2) not being sad about the differences in our children or in our lives as the parents of a child with a disability. It's hard sometimes to be realistic and hopeful at the same time.

I've read about Amy making the decision to apply for handicapped parking permission for her daughter Larkin, how Ellen struggled with her application for a MR waiver for Nichole, and how Lisa ponders her son Finn's future and Ds stereotypes in response to the "Johnny the Bagger" story.

Parents protect their children fiercely. This is not unique to parenting a child with a disability. What is different is that our children are universally perceived as different--and as such, we feel the need to protect, even more fiercely, from the very beginning. Most of us are sensitive to images, language, and perspectives that have real power to limit our children (and to stomp on our hearts at the same time).

We are in a unique position. We do live in a "different world" in many ways. And although it's a world of many, many, untold blessings, it is also a world where questions, fears and soul-searching are part of the everyday landscape.

You might not see it often on Bridget's Light, but I have my tough days, too. We all have our moments when things seem out of control, overwhelming or filled with with uncertainty. It comes in waves. The waves were much bigger and flattened me a few times when Bridget was tiny. Today I'm finding that I don't have to jump nearly as high or as often to make it over them. As a family, we have found our center of balance, and have learned to accept and celebrate our lives as they are today. Jumping waves is much easier when you're holding hands with someone you love.

My goal with this blog has always been to share Bridget--and our experiences with her--with friends, family and anyone else who might benefit. I'm committed to finding ways of highlighting the importance of advocacy, keeping perspective and seeing possibility. To that end, I want to share the following:

Bridget was very small when we were first introduced to the Buddy Walk. We chose not to participate in the Buddy Walk that fall, but a friend brought us a bag with pamphlets, stickers, magnets and brochures that were given out that day. In it, I found a bright pink sheet of paper. Printed on it was the following story, which had great impact on me at the time. I found this again recently while I was re-organizing my file box for Bridget, and it still resonates with me deeply...

_________________________________________________

A Story about My Two Daughters

How to Live in the World of Possibility

By Candee Basford

My first daughter was diagnosed with Down syndrome soon after she was born. Her language is delayed. Her abstract thinking abilities impaired. She is easily distracted and sometimes refuses to follow or listen to directions. She has some autistic-like tendencies. She has a bilateral hearing loss. Hearing aides have been recommended but she refuses to wear them. She has an uncorrected vision of 20/200 and a corrected vision of 20/60 at a distance. She is highly farsighted with nystagmus. She can be extremely stubborn and sometimes makes inappropriate comments. She can perform some functional tasks but has trouble with basic tasks like counting money and making change. She can follow simple cooking instructions. She can make her bed.

My second daughter is a sophomore in college. She is majoring in science. She loves anatomy and physiology, biology and anything connected to science. She loves to read but because of a vision loss she needs to take frequent breaks. She has a hearing loss so it helps if she can see the speaker and keep background noise to a minimum. Recently, she has become very interested in sketching portraits. Because of this new interest she is taking a course in advanced drawing. She is popular – the life of the party. She loves to flirt – in fact, her senior class in high school voted her most flirtatious. She has many friends. She has the ability to make other people feel welcome and loved. She is persistent, loves having fun and has a great personality. She loves to dance, travel and write to and receive letters from friends. She dreams of starting her own rock band.

The story of my two daughters illustrates the power of our words and our perspectives. It illustrates the power of the scientific processes and the labels we continue to use to diagnose, predict and sort people.

How? Both stories are about the same person, my daughter. The stories “differ in the way they are constructed – in their purpose – in their consequences – and in the assumptions they shape.” (O’Brien & Mount)

The story about my "first daughter” was constructed from exact words and phrases found on my daughter's school and employment related documents, written in the language of professionals, educators, psychologists and job specialists. It tells what she can’t do, won’t do and why. In this story, she is in need of repair, and thus in need of lots of professionals to fix her. The purpose of this story, in part, is compliance with federal and state regulations. The first consequence is that we (and the rest of society) accept the story as true and begin to adopt the language and beliefs and practices. Once that happens, the sad consequence is segregation, a client’s life, a planned life surrounded by professionals. The assumption in the story about my first daughter is that she is needy, broken, difficult and – most important – that her life should be safe and predictable surrounded by the service system.

The story about my “second” daughter was constructed from love, experience and by paying attention to gifts. It is told from the perspective that my daughter has immeasurable capacity once she has a valued and connected life in her community. The story about my second daughter is shaped (and lived) from a capacity perspective. This story is told in “context” of a life connected to others, a life that unfolds in exciting and unexpected ways precisely because of the many relationships she has. The consequences of this story are community and risk taking and surprises. The consequence is citizenship. The assumption in the story about my second daughter is that she is person who has capacity, interests, gifts, and contributions especially when her life unfolds in the presence of and participation in community.

The story of my two daughters represents two different worlds – the world of measurement and the world of possibility. Often, as my daughter grew up, I felt the overwhelming gravity of the world of measurement, pulling her toward specialized services and segregation with the promise of safety, and simplicity, and repair. In the world of measurement you get to know others by measuring and comparing. But it is the world of possibility that I find most powerful and promising.

The story about my second daughter is the story of possibility. It is the NEW story that we must learn to tell. It is the story told (and lived) from a capacity perspective, from a community perspective. We can learn to tell this NEW story by first examining our own perceptions and advocacy efforts. We can learn to tell the NEW story by listening, seeing, asking, discovering and taking action in the direction of gifts and capacities. We can learn to LIVE the NEW story by supporting rich relationships and taking actions that lead to more inclusive opportunities in our schools and in our communities, for it is these rich inclusive and ordinary experiences that will yield the context necessary to live in the world of possibility.

Copywrite 2006, Candee Basford

*Candee Basford is an author, artist, facilitator and independent consultant. She is president of Ohio TASH and active in capacity building approaches. She holds a Masters degree in adult education. Learn more about her and her daughter Katie here.

**An article by John O’Brien and Beth Mount inspired this essay. It is titled “Telling New Stories, The Search for Capacity Among People with Severe Disabilities” .

***For more on how to live in possibility read “The Art of Possibility” by Zander and Zander.

Living in a World of Possibility

In the past few days, I've seen several posts on other blogs which center around two basic issues many of us are dealing with: (1) finding the difficult balance between getting our children the help they need while never underestimating their potential, and (2) not being sad about the differences in our children or in our lives as the parents of a child with a disability. It's hard sometimes to be realistic and hopeful at the same time.

I've read about Amy making the decision to apply for handicapped parking permission for her daughter Larkin, how Ellen struggled with her application for a MR waiver for Nichole, and how Lisa ponders her son Finn's future and Ds stereotypes in response to the "Johnny the Bagger" story.

Parents protect their children fiercely. This is not unique to parenting a child with a disability. What is different is that our children are universally perceived as different--and as such, we feel the need to protect, even more fiercely, from the very beginning. Most of us are sensitive to images, language, and perspectives that have real power to limit our children (and to stomp on our hearts at the same time).

We are in a unique position. We do live in a "different world" in many ways. And although it's a world of many, many, untold blessings, it is also a world where questions, fears and soul-searching are part of the everyday landscape.

You might not see it often on Bridget's Light, but I have my tough days, too. We all have our moments when things seem out of control, overwhelming or filled with with uncertainty. It comes in waves. The waves were much bigger and flattened me a few times when Bridget was tiny. Today I'm finding that I don't have to jump nearly as high or as often to make it over them. As a family, we have found our center of balance, and have learned to accept and celebrate our lives as they are today. Jumping waves is much easier when you're holding hands with someone you love.

My goal with this blog has always been to share Bridget--and our experiences with her--with friends, family and anyone else who might benefit. I'm committed to finding ways of highlighting the importance of advocacy, keeping perspective and seeing possibility. To that end, I want to share the following:

Bridget was very small when we were first introduced to the Buddy Walk. We chose not to participate in the Buddy Walk that fall, but a friend brought us a bag with pamphlets, stickers, magnets and brochures that were given out that day. In it, I found a bright pink sheet of paper. Printed on it was the following story, which had great impact on me at the time. I found this again recently while I was re-organizing my file box for Bridget, and it still resonates with me deeply...

_________________________________________________

A Story about My Two Daughters

How to Live in the World of Possibility

By Candee Basford

My first daughter was diagnosed with Down syndrome soon after she was born. Her language is delayed. Her abstract thinking abilities impaired. She is easily distracted and sometimes refuses to follow or listen to directions. She has some autistic-like tendencies. She has a bilateral hearing loss. Hearing aides have been recommended but she refuses to wear them. She has an uncorrected vision of 20/200 and a corrected vision of 20/60 at a distance. She is highly farsighted with nystagmus. She can be extremely stubborn and sometimes makes inappropriate comments. She can perform some functional tasks but has trouble with basic tasks like counting money and making change. She can follow simple cooking instructions. She can make her bed.

My second daughter is a sophomore in college. She is majoring in science. She loves anatomy and physiology, biology and anything connected to science. She loves to read but because of a vision loss she needs to take frequent breaks. She has a hearing loss so it helps if she can see the speaker and keep background noise to a minimum. Recently, she has become very interested in sketching portraits. Because of this new interest she is taking a course in advanced drawing. She is popular – the life of the party. She loves to flirt – in fact, her senior class in high school voted her most flirtatious. She has many friends. She has the ability to make other people feel welcome and loved. She is persistent, loves having fun and has a great personality. She loves to dance, travel and write to and receive letters from friends. She dreams of starting her own rock band.

The story of my two daughters illustrates the power of our words and our perspectives. It illustrates the power of the scientific processes and the labels we continue to use to diagnose, predict and sort people.

How? Both stories are about the same person, my daughter. The stories “differ in the way they are constructed – in their purpose – in their consequences – and in the assumptions they shape.” (O’Brien & Mount)

The story about my "first daughter” was constructed from exact words and phrases found on my daughter's school and employment related documents, written in the language of professionals, educators, psychologists and job specialists. It tells what she can’t do, won’t do and why. In this story, she is in need of repair, and thus in need of lots of professionals to fix her. The purpose of this story, in part, is compliance with federal and state regulations. The first consequence is that we (and the rest of society) accept the story as true and begin to adopt the language and beliefs and practices. Once that happens, the sad consequence is segregation, a client’s life, a planned life surrounded by professionals. The assumption in the story about my first daughter is that she is needy, broken, difficult and – most important – that her life should be safe and predictable surrounded by the service system.

The story about my “second” daughter was constructed from love, experience and by paying attention to gifts. It is told from the perspective that my daughter has immeasurable capacity once she has a valued and connected life in her community. The story about my second daughter is shaped (and lived) from a capacity perspective. This story is told in “context” of a life connected to others, a life that unfolds in exciting and unexpected ways precisely because of the many relationships she has. The consequences of this story are community and risk taking and surprises. The consequence is citizenship. The assumption in the story about my second daughter is that she is person who has capacity, interests, gifts, and contributions especially when her life unfolds in the presence of and participation in community.

The story of my two daughters represents two different worlds – the world of measurement and the world of possibility. Often, as my daughter grew up, I felt the overwhelming gravity of the world of measurement, pulling her toward specialized services and segregation with the promise of safety, and simplicity, and repair. In the world of measurement you get to know others by measuring and comparing. But it is the world of possibility that I find most powerful and promising.

The story about my second daughter is the story of possibility. It is the NEW story that we must learn to tell. It is the story told (and lived) from a capacity perspective, from a community perspective. We can learn to tell this NEW story by first examining our own perceptions and advocacy efforts. We can learn to tell the NEW story by listening, seeing, asking, discovering and taking action in the direction of gifts and capacities. We can learn to LIVE the NEW story by supporting rich relationships and taking actions that lead to more inclusive opportunities in our schools and in our communities, for it is these rich inclusive and ordinary experiences that will yield the context necessary to live in the world of possibility.

Copywrite 2006, Candee Basford

*Candee Basford is an author, artist, facilitator and independent consultant. She is president of Ohio TASH and active in capacity building approaches. She holds a Masters degree in adult education. Learn more about her and her daughter Katie here.

**An article by John O’Brien and Beth Mount inspired this essay. It is titled “Telling New Stories, The Search for Capacity Among People with Severe Disabilities” .

***For more on how to live in possibility read “The Art of Possibility” by Zander and Zander.

Sleeping Beauty...is sick

Our sweet little girl has been under the weather with a cold-type virus and a really bad ear infection.





She's been pretty miserable, but is starting to feel better. After days of existing on applesauce, Motrin and Hi-5 (and resisting naps/sleeping restlessly at night), she finally fell asleep...with me...on my bed.

She'd insisted on laying on me all afternoon...patting my arm (and cheek and leg) to say: "You just stay right here, please". After 3 hours, she fell asleep at last (I did, too). I woke up and grabbed my camera...she was just too cute all snuggled in our fuzzy throw blanket. Just FYI, I did not wake her up taking pics :), the phone rang :(. Notice the one eye open in the picture below.


We have another snow day today. It's beautiful outside and there's nowhere we have to go, so we are settling in together for an afternoon of movies and games (and probably more applesauce, Motrin and Hi-5)...

Sleeping Beauty...is sick

Our sweet little girl has been under the weather with a cold-type virus and a really bad ear infection.





She's been pretty miserable, but is starting to feel better. After days of existing on applesauce, Motrin and Hi-5 (and resisting naps/sleeping restlessly at night), she finally fell asleep...with me...on my bed.

She'd insisted on laying on me all afternoon...patting my arm (and cheek and leg) to say: "You just stay right here, please". After 3 hours, she fell asleep at last (I did, too). I woke up and grabbed my camera...she was just too cute all snuggled in our fuzzy throw blanket. Just FYI, I did not wake her up taking pics :), the phone rang :(. Notice the one eye open in the picture below.


We have another snow day today. It's beautiful outside and there's nowhere we have to go, so we are settling in together for an afternoon of movies and games (and probably more applesauce, Motrin and Hi-5)...

A New Year

We're still here...

My sister-in-law, Jennie, took these pictures of me & Bridget last week in Missouri (where we were visiting my parents for the holidays). I love this little girl SO MUCH! I need to pick one of these to submit for publication, and can't choose a favorite. Anyone else have thoughts or comments?

Happy 2009!

**Thanks to everyone who posted here or emailed me with feedback on the pictures. We selected the one on the top (of me brushing Bridget's hair out of her face), which is also our new header :).

A New Year

We're still here...

My sister-in-law, Jennie, took these pictures of me & Bridget last week in Missouri (where we were visiting my parents for the holidays). I love this little girl SO MUCH! I need to pick one of these to submit for publication, and can't choose a favorite. Anyone else have thoughts or comments?

Happy 2009!

**Thanks to everyone who posted here or emailed me with feedback on the pictures. We selected the one on the top (of me brushing Bridget's hair out of her face), which is also our new header :).

Thankful

It seems to be the way of the world these days: Be the best, brightest, biggest (whatever you're trying to be). I've often wondered...how does Down syndrome fit into a society so obsessed with beauty, success and perfection?

I don't have the answer to that question, but I have my own theory: knowing and loving Bridget keeps me from getting in the way of myself.

As Bridget's mom, I've stopped looking to others to help me gauge my own worth. I am no longer concerned with what others might be thinking about me. I am not self-conscious.

If I take my daughter's lead, I live Life jubilantly. I trust. I try. I love. I don't rush. I don't judge. I don't miss a thing.

Bridget is so full of Life and beauty--and Life with Bridget, in turn, is full of dimension and meaning.

Bridget embodies goodness and honesty. She is light and truth, and she reminds me daily--this is it--this is what Life is all about.

This love,
this joy~~
that arrived with Bridget.
The significance,
and brilliance
in our days.
The moments of discovery,
and reflection.
Moments of peace~~
and laughter~~
and light.

I am so thankful for this little girl, and for this beautiful journey...

Thankful

It seems to be the way of the world these days: Be the best, brightest, biggest (whatever you're trying to be). I've often wondered...how does Down syndrome fit into a society so obsessed with beauty, success and perfection?

I don't have the answer to that question, but I have my own theory: knowing and loving Bridget keeps me from getting in the way of myself.

As Bridget's mom, I've stopped looking to others to help me gauge my own worth. I am no longer concerned with what others might be thinking about me. I am not self-conscious.

If I take my daughter's lead, I live Life jubilantly. I trust. I try. I love. I don't rush. I don't judge. I don't miss a thing.

Bridget is so full of Life and beauty--and Life with Bridget, in turn, is full of dimension and meaning.

Bridget embodies goodness and honesty. She is light and truth, and she reminds me daily--this is it--this is what Life is all about.

This love,
this joy~~
that arrived with Bridget.
The significance,
and brilliance
in our days.
The moments of discovery,
and reflection.
Moments of peace~~
and laughter~~
and light.

I am so thankful for this little girl, and for this beautiful journey...

Ending one day and starting another...

I haven't posted yet in November, and the month is almost over. With the Buddy Walk in September and blogging each day of October for Ds awareness month, the three-week break was more than a little needed. I have been visiting other blogs when there has been a free moment, and I've loved having a chance to catch up on some good reading and inspiring dialogue.

My own advocacy efforts will be growing in scope over the upcoming year. I will share more as plans are finalized...

This past three weeks have been a bit of a blur. We've all been sick at one point or another with a variety of beginning-of-the-winter bugs (postponing our playdate with the Elliott's), and Chris has been out of town on business more than usual. The boys' basketball season started and school conferences have come and gone. Late at night, when the house has been quiet, I've started and finished my holiday shopping on-line. And now, more boxes are arriving than I can find space for.

Anyway, when Chris was gone recently, Sara slept in his spot. All the kids stay in the room with me when he's away, and the girls take turns sleeping next to me. The boys have an air bed on the floor, and there is another single bed on the floor for Emmy or Sara, whichever one is not with me.

There is a pack-n-play right next to my bed for Bridget, but she likes to snuggle as she falls asleep. I pulled her into bed with me and Sara the other night. She was sandwiched between us, all of our cheeks in a row. The three of us took up only the space in the middle of the bed. We fell asleep like that, together, with Sara's arms around Bridget, and my arms around Sara. Sometime in the middle of the night, I lifted Bridget from Sara's arms and laid her in the pack-n-play next to me.

In the morning, Bridget was the first to wake. I heard her tiny voice before daylight: "Mom Mom". I pulled her back into bed just as Sara's alarm sounded. Sara's eyes were still closed, but she sighed when she felt Bridget next to her. "What a great way to fall asleep and wake up...with this little girl beside me," she whispered.

Ending one day and starting another...

I haven't posted yet in November, and the month is almost over. With the Buddy Walk in September and blogging each day of October for Ds awareness month, the three-week break was more than a little needed. I have been visiting other blogs when there has been a free moment, and I've loved having a chance to catch up on some good reading and inspiring dialogue.

My own advocacy efforts will be growing in scope over the upcoming year. I will share more as plans are finalized...

This past three weeks have been a bit of a blur. We've all been sick at one point or another with a variety of beginning-of-the-winter bugs (postponing our playdate with the Elliott's), and Chris has been out of town on business more than usual. The boys' basketball season started and school conferences have come and gone. Late at night, when the house has been quiet, I've started and finished my holiday shopping on-line. And now, more boxes are arriving than I can find space for.

Anyway, when Chris was gone recently, Sara slept in his spot. All the kids stay in the room with me when he's away, and the girls take turns sleeping next to me. The boys have an air bed on the floor, and there is another single bed on the floor for Emmy or Sara, whichever one is not with me.

There is a pack-n-play right next to my bed for Bridget, but she likes to snuggle as she falls asleep. I pulled her into bed with me and Sara the other night. She was sandwiched between us, all of our cheeks in a row. The three of us took up only the space in the middle of the bed. We fell asleep like that, together, with Sara's arms around Bridget, and my arms around Sara. Sometime in the middle of the night, I lifted Bridget from Sara's arms and laid her in the pack-n-play next to me.

In the morning, Bridget was the first to wake. I heard her tiny voice before daylight: "Mom Mom". I pulled her back into bed just as Sara's alarm sounded. Sara's eyes were still closed, but she sighed when she felt Bridget next to her. "What a great way to fall asleep and wake up...with this little girl beside me," she whispered.

Thoughts from Dad...

When it comes to my youngest daughter Bridget, what I feel most often is pride.

Sure, I’m proud of her in so many ways as any father would be. I'm proud to see her smile and laugh, interact with her older siblings, communicate with sign language (most fathers don't get that experience), crawl, stand, take first steps, even raise her index finger high in the air when we say "Go Bucks!"...and the list goes on. I'm proud of the way she expresses herself, of her joyful spirit, and of the depth of her determination.

That feeling of pride extends much farther, though, into areas I would not really have expected.

I am proud of my other children for having such a pure acceptance for who Bridget really is as a person, not only as a child with Down syndrome. I’m proud of their willingness to try to contemplate the lives of others with disabilities and to view and appreciate them as individuals.

I am proud of their young friends for being willing to take the lead from our children in finding an understanding, acceptance and pure enjoyment of Bridget.

I am proud of my friends and extended family for celebrating Bridget, versus judging her as a child with a syndrome that makes her different, and for supporting our entire family in our advocacy efforts.

I’m proud of my wife for her willingness to provide information, along with a sense of peace and understanding, to other parents who will have children with Down syndrome and are uncertain as to what that really means and what the future may hold.

Just two years ago we were in that uncertain position, and I’m proud to say that our life is much more complete and full with Bridget in it!

**This post from Chris marks the end of Ds Awareness Month. Although it also marks the end of our participation in 31 for 21, we will continue to advocate, on all days, for Bridget and for all people with Down syndrome.

Thoughts from Dad...

When it comes to my youngest daughter Bridget, what I feel most often is pride.

Sure, I’m proud of her in so many ways as any father would be. I'm proud to see her smile and laugh, interact with her older siblings, communicate with sign language (most fathers don't get that experience), crawl, stand, take first steps, even raise her index finger high in the air when we say "Go Bucks!"...and the list goes on. I'm proud of the way she expresses herself, of her joyful spirit, and of the depth of her determination.

That feeling of pride extends much farther, though, into areas I would not really have expected.

I am proud of my other children for having such a pure acceptance for who Bridget really is as a person, not only as a child with Down syndrome. I’m proud of their willingness to try to contemplate the lives of others with disabilities and to view and appreciate them as individuals.

I am proud of their young friends for being willing to take the lead from our children in finding an understanding, acceptance and pure enjoyment of Bridget.

I am proud of my friends and extended family for celebrating Bridget, versus judging her as a child with a syndrome that makes her different, and for supporting our entire family in our advocacy efforts.

I’m proud of my wife for her willingness to provide information, along with a sense of peace and understanding, to other parents who will have children with Down syndrome and are uncertain as to what that really means and what the future may hold.

Just two years ago we were in that uncertain position, and I’m proud to say that our life is much more complete and full with Bridget in it!

**This post from Chris marks the end of Ds Awareness Month. Although it also marks the end of our participation in 31 for 21, we will continue to advocate, on all days, for Bridget and for all people with Down syndrome.

Happy Halloween!

Here are a few pics of Miss Bridget dressed up last night for Trick or Treat.

She was a really, really cute cat--who really, really did not want to wear her mask :). She knew exactly where it was supposed to go, and would hold it up to her face or head, but did not want it strapped on. I can't say I blame her...it was squishing her little eyes!

Happy Halloween!

Here are a few pics of Miss Bridget dressed up last night for Trick or Treat.

She was a really, really cute cat--who really, really did not want to wear her mask :). She knew exactly where it was supposed to go, and would hold it up to her face or head, but did not want it strapped on. I can't say I blame her...it was squishing her little eyes!

Holy Cow!

So I had this great post planned a few weeks ago: Holy Cow Times Two!

Make that a big Holy Cow...Just One, Though. I'll explain...

I follow the blogs of several of Bridget's peers. I love keeping up with these other kids and families. My kids all know each of the children by name, and often ask about them.

One local family (who lives on the other side of town, and who we have yet to meet) has a precious little girl, Leah, who is close to Bridget's age. I will often take Bridget to the computer and show her pictures of Leah and the other kids whose blogs I browse.

One day, Leah's mom Mary posted Leah Walks, a video of her proudly taking some steps (at the end, you can hear Mary shouting with excitement, "Holy Cow!!").

When Bridget woke up from her nap that day, I took her to the computer and said, "Leah is walking. Want to see?" She was totally engrossed, and smiled throughout the 30-second clip. And at the end, she clapped and raised her hands above her head. It was adorable. I showed her the video about 10 times that day and we clapped together at the end of each one.

Bridget had been free standing and standing against things, but had not ventured out...until that night. I set her against our back door and said, "Can you walk like Leah?" No joke, she came toward me squealing with her shoulders up by her ears. She took 5 or 6 steps to me, giggling the whole time. She was like, Yep, I can take steps by myself, too. She was inspired to walk by Leah walking. I was blown away.

The funny thing is...no one else was home to see Bridget walking but me. Since that night she has taken a few steps here and there without help, but she usually wants to hold at least a finger for moral support. She is fully capable of walking on her own, but she is holding out on us. When asked, "Bridget, please stand up and take a few steps," she initially furrowed her brow, shouted "NO!" and pinched her little index finger and thumb together with vigor. She now replies sweetly and with a smile, "no". She honestly just says "no" while signing "no" at the same time. So, my Holy Cow post has been modified :).

I do love how animated Bridget gets when she sees other babies and kids. I would love to find her a few friends who have the extra chromosome in common.

Bridget is surrounded by kids at home and in our neighborhood, but there are no little girls who live nearby and also have Ds. There are a few boys close to her age in our community, and I am going to reach out to their families and see if we can get together.

We have loved reading about her peers like Leah, Ella Grace, Vince, and Reid through their blogs. Thank you to all of these parents who write about their children and their experiences. They keep us company and inspire us without even knowing it.

Holy Cow!

So I had this great post planned a few weeks ago: Holy Cow Times Two!

Make that a big Holy Cow...Just One, Though. I'll explain...

I follow the blogs of several of Bridget's peers. I love keeping up with these other kids and families. My kids all know each of the children by name, and often ask about them.

One local family (who lives on the other side of town, and who we have yet to meet) has a precious little girl, Leah, who is close to Bridget's age. I will often take Bridget to the computer and show her pictures of Leah and the other kids whose blogs I browse.

One day, Leah's mom Mary posted Leah Walks, a video of her proudly taking some steps (at the end, you can hear Mary shouting with excitement, "Holy Cow!!").

When Bridget woke up from her nap that day, I took her to the computer and said, "Leah is walking. Want to see?" She was totally engrossed, and smiled throughout the 30-second clip. And at the end, she clapped and raised her hands above her head. It was adorable. I showed her the video about 10 times that day and we clapped together at the end of each one.

Bridget had been free standing and standing against things, but had not ventured out...until that night. I set her against our back door and said, "Can you walk like Leah?" No joke, she came toward me squealing with her shoulders up by her ears. She took 5 or 6 steps to me, giggling the whole time. She was like, Yep, I can take steps by myself, too. She was inspired to walk by Leah walking. I was blown away.

The funny thing is...no one else was home to see Bridget walking but me. Since that night she has taken a few steps here and there without help, but she usually wants to hold at least a finger for moral support. She is fully capable of walking on her own, but she is holding out on us. When asked, "Bridget, please stand up and take a few steps," she initially furrowed her brow, shouted "NO!" and pinched her little index finger and thumb together with vigor. She now replies sweetly and with a smile, "no". She honestly just says "no" while signing "no" at the same time. So, my Holy Cow post has been modified :).

I do love how animated Bridget gets when she sees other babies and kids. I would love to find her a few friends who have the extra chromosome in common.

Bridget is surrounded by kids at home and in our neighborhood, but there are no little girls who live nearby and also have Ds. There are a few boys close to her age in our community, and I am going to reach out to their families and see if we can get together.

We have loved reading about her peers like Leah, Ella Grace, Vince, and Reid through their blogs. Thank you to all of these parents who write about their children and their experiences. They keep us company and inspire us without even knowing it.