In the generously-topped heaping plate of Posts on Down syndrome I served you in October, I didn’t write of the Buddy Walk. The one “little” nugget that that everyone writes about, I somehow didn’t.
This is what happened: when we parked and walked in, I welled up, ready to bawl. Not for the reason that was mine the previous year, feeling sad in a sense that my child was a part of a cause, or from fear that my kid might/could/would/be *that* kid.
No, this year, it was because I realized that I checked my Guard with the car. That my reservations were down. I realized that somehow, somewhere along the way in the past year I have grown an armour and that no matter what, every time I enter a room, a place of typical development, I am on Guard, with those reservations. That it does not matter that I am so in love with my daughter, that I think she is bright and fun and gorgeous and smart and sparkly.
I am fully aware with every bit of my cannily observant deaf eyes how others see her.
And it makes me wary.
And the wariness makes me sad.
But not as sad it makes me when I feel myself unencumbered by the weight of Guard, finally grasping how heavy it really is.
That’s all I have to say about it.
Other than the tears, we had a whole lot of fun.
|Micah (in red) having a BLAST|
Moxie’s buddy from her program (who does not have Down syndrome) came, along with her Mama to support us and oh, that made me so happy! We met some new people and played with others we knew and had an all-round good time.
|Moxie, in the crib of her new friend|
|lots and lots of people who love someone with Down syndrome|
|...and one more|
We love you, Bunny.