You were there for me, thank you

On the day Lizzie was born, I felt alone, so alone. I was convinced that having a Down syndrome baby would somehow isolate us from everyone else.

But in the weeks and months since, my experience was not alone - it was shared.

You didn't ignore me as I feared would happen. You didn't say - here's your special program because your child was born with special needs. You didn't uninvite me to your parties. In fact, you embraced me. You looked at Lizzie, and said "she's beautiful. She's lucky to have the Dales for her family."

You came to the hospital everyday when Lizzie was born and wrapped your arms around us. You introduced me to every person you knew who had Downs so that my support network would be in place when I was ready to use it. You texted me and called me; you took me for Happy Hour to remind me that this was not the end of life as I knew it - just the beginning of a remarkable life ahead.

You just kept saying "yes."

When I asked if Elizabeth could someday attend big sister Madeleine's preschool Portland Jewish Academy, you said "yes." When I asked if Elizabeth could join Music Together, you said "yes."

When you (mom, dad, sisters, and in-laws), listened to my concerns, you told me that you would be there and you would support me.

When you (my friends and co-workers), heard the news for the first time in my standard letter, you said things like: "Jenn, why are you even telling me this. It's fine. It's just an extra chromosome." Or you said, "She will bring you joy in ways you can't even imagine yet." You also said: "She has been born into an incredibly wonderful family who will love her for the person she is and give her every ability to succeed. She is truly blessed to have been born to you."

To all of you, I say: "Thank you!" A million times over.

Because things could have been different.


Lizzie getting massaged by PT

I recently met a woman with Down syndrome who is my age, 34. Karen Gaffney has done incredible things, like swim a relay across the English Channel and dive into frigid waters to swim miles and miles.

Would you be able to do that? I doubt it.

But Karen may not have had that chance if her parents didn't believe that every life was worth living. When Karen was born 34 years ago, her parents were asked whether they wanted her institutionalized. Social workers told them Karen would be lucky if she could ever tie her own shoes or brush her own teeth. And now Karen can has achieved more in her lifetime than many of us ever will.


In the three decades since Karen's birth, our society has certainly come along way. At the hospital, no one asked me about institutionalization. Instead, I was told a few cliche stories about Italy and Holland, given a book about Babies with Down Syndrome, and then sent on my way. Sure, things could have been a little better starting at the hospital. But it got better later.



I was put in touch with the Down Syndrome Network of Oregon who provided me with a "Basket of Hope" that included numerous goodies, such as books, contact numbers, cute knit caps and knit blankets, and other things to remind me that this is the start of a remarkable journey.

And yesterday came the visit from "Early Intervention," a federally funded program administered by the county to give special needs children extra support in the early years. Physical and speech therapists came to my house, and they crafted a plan with me to determine goals for Lizzie to meet in the next year. We listed things like: imitate our sounds, roll-over, crawl, and use sign language to communicate her needs. They plan to visit us every week for an hour to work on these goals.

We also have a family that is mentioned in this blog (and they know who they are), who have practically adopted us. They were the first to reach out to me and say it's OK. We've been there; and it's going to be OK. One day, Lizzie and I went to their home and it was Lizzie's most alert two hours EVER because this mom knew how to care for a Down syndrome newborn. Thank you for being our mentors so far!! 

Boy, what a difference from three decades ago when our society disregarded special needs children as ones whose lives may not amount to anything.

Instead, their lives have led to ads in Target commercials, entrepreneurship and extreme athleticism.