In Your Light: To My Daughter (with Down syndrome) on the Occasion of Her 7th Birthday

In Your Light: A Letter to my Daughter (with Down syndrome) on the Occasion of her 7th Birthday

My daughter, when I woke up on the morning of your birthday, you were awake already.

You had slipped out of your bed and headed straight for the art supplies.

After I kissed your sweet cheeks good morning (and gave you a hug), you said that the drawing was for me – “see?! MOMMY”

Ah! You had written, “mom” on it for me! And my heart melted, my love.

I love how you engage in your art anywhere, everywhere.

The way you open your mouth and try to swallow rainbows, because, RAINBOWS!

I love your curiosity, love of adventure and exploring.

You get your brother dressed and ready to “go on a trip,” leaving the house to travel down to the playground and pond.

You never met a tree you didn’t want to climb.

A forest you didn’t want to walk through.

A valley you didn’t run for

A space you didn’t want to run across

A plane you didn’t want to fly –

Or monkey bars you didn’t want to try and swing from!

I adore you.

I adore you completely, whole-heartedly.

You are the daughter I always wanted, brave and fierce and unafraid.

It comes to you naturally, without thinking. You just GO.

You see the wave and you want to ride it.

And then go back for more!

It’s as if you are on a quest to live as BIG as you possibly can.

Watching you with your brothers makes my heart swell with appreciation, gratitude and love.

You three have a bond

Nothing about your relationship is as they said it would be

“They” being the doctors who told us you were coming with Down syndrome, and “they” being false future-tellers who said you would be “a burden” of a sibling.

You give more than you get with them, teaching them to be bold, fearless, to live with a little moxie.

You teach them to act out dramas

Be adventurous, blow bubbles, dress up (because it’s fun), climb fences, sing with gusto, and – in the case of your older brother, you give him an opportunity to be kind.

I love you

I love your strength and your fearlessness, as also I love your tenderness.

my daughter with Down syndrome

I love your relationship with Daddy too –

If ever a daughter loved her father, it is you.

You know what you like

Be it time alone, drawing, running or CHEERIOS – you seem to have an enviable clarity of purpose and expression at all times.

my daughter with Down syndrome

I love that you play so hard that you literally pass out.

Moxie, my love. My precious daughter.

You came into this world 7 years ago. I was so scared of who you would be, how your extra chromosome would be expressed. I knew so little of Down syndrome, and had no idea that it would mean so much – but that the way that it would mean so much was different than what anyone said.

What it absolutely means to me now, 7 years later, is this: I don’t know how Down syndrome is expressed exactly in you, but it keeps me on my toes, both literally and figuratively.

I have to run to keep up with you.

I need to do my homework to make sure you can do yours.

I need to think about the world in new ways.

I am stretched past my comfort zones.

I am in a constant state of admiration over your beauty, joy, zest for life, and voracious appetite for adventure and fun.

I am so grateful for the gift of being your mother, and for being able to nurture and guide you through this life.

And I can’t wait to learn more about you and explore the world together.

Happy birthday, Moxie!

I love you now and forever.

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Meriah
Meriah Nichols is a deaf artist, tech-junkie, Counselor (and sometime teacher), mom (one with Down syndrome), cat-lover, Trekkie, yurt-dwelling off-the-grid farmer's wife. She writes about travel, disability, and getting dishes done.

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