The day I talked about my son's Down Syndrome diagnosis without crying

I wondered, in the beginning, if I would ever experience this day, The day I would be able to talk about my son’s Down Syndrome diagnosis and not cry.

In the beginning, the tears came indiscriminately, sometimes so unexpectedly. I would be having a great day, I would think that all was well and then BAM, out of nowhere, the waterworks would happen. It was always a setback for me because it felt as though when I thought in my mind that I had gotten past the loss and sorrow, it would come from the depths of my heart, it always left me feeling broken and somehow weaker than I wanted to be. Sometimes I judged my days by how many tears there were, it was a good day, I only cried once.

As the weeks turned into months and I had more time to get to know my little guy, the tears did come less often. I could often still be caught off guard though. I would be talking about my son to a well-meaning friend who would ask a simple question, “How is he doing?” or “How are things going?” It honestly seemed as though the open-ended questions are the worst land mines. I wished that people could ask a more pointed question sometimes, it seemed like that would elicit less of an emotional response. A simple, “Is he sleeping through the night for you?” was easier to answer and elaborate on than the open-ended, “How’s he doing?” In my mind I would wrestle with, well, he’s doing great except he isn’t meeting this milestone or that one. That is when the lump in my throat would start, and that stupid quaver in my voice.

Since my son was born I have existed as an oxymoron of sorts, I want to share him with the world and answer questions (yes, even the stupid ones) but depending on the day, those can leave me feeling emotionally spent. I want people to ask and learn so that I can help erase their misconceptions about Down Syndrome, but at the same time, it can be hard for a mama who just wants to keep her eyeliner in one place.

Then it happened. I was in the nursery at church and a dear, well-meaning friend asked me one of those open-ended questions, then with my encouragement, she asked a few more. My voice didn’t quaver. I answered her questions, I even elaborated, I said the words, Down Syndrome, and I didn’t break. You couldn’t believe the elation I felt after that conversation. I seriously felt as though I had scaled to the top of a great peak. I did it, it was a mom milestone and I wanted all of my conversations to go like that from that day forward.

That day left me empowered. I could do this, I could advocate in person, as well as from behind a computer screen, and I could help change the way the world sees Down Syndrome. I could do it without mascara streaks, sniffles and that cracking voice. It was an amazing day.

I have days like that more than any other at this point. Cedar is 13 months old now and saying “Down Syndrome” no longer brings anxiety and that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you know that you have to check some rogue emotion. I have fallen head over heels in love with my little guy and some of the markers of Down Syndrome are now so endearing. His crescent shaped eyes that all but disappear when he shows me a big toothless grin, his short little fingers, and his adorable toe gap, they are all things that I now coo over, and would honestly miss were they different.

I can say Down Syndrome without tears now. I can talk about his progress, his achievements, and some of the areas he still needs to master, all without tears. I can even tread the minefield of open-ended questions and walk away feeling really good about a conversation.

In the beginning, that day seemed so elusive, but, it did finally come, and talking about Cedar and Down Syndrome is like talking to you about one of my other children and his/her personality or likes and dislikes.

I was finally able to talk about Down Syndrome without crying, and it felt amazing.