Today you enter kindergarten. You — a big, beautiful, grown-up little person — begin your educational journey.
It’s hard to believe you’re the broken baby I cried over in the NICU. It’s hard to believe your bouncing ponytail, infectious smile and sparkling blue eyes are in my life when I remember all too clearly placing a trembling hand on my swollen belly six years ago, scared at what Down syndrome would mean for the baby I had yet to meet.
Because I was scared. Terrified, actually. I received your diagnosis with bitter tears and twisted it to mean whatever my prejudices wanted it to mean. But I was wrong. There was nothing to be scared of. In the past five years, you have surprised me with your brilliance and ability, delighted me with a beautiful personality and humbled me with how blessed I am to be your mother.