There is a dad who comes to the dog park with his large golden doodle and his young son. I’ve interacted with them before, like many other dog park regulars. We usually talk about our dogs- asking their names, ages, where they are from. On this one day, though, I felt moved to say more.
When the three of them came into the park, the dog took off leaving dad and son to walk up the path. I yelled an excited “Hi, Pete!” to the blur of a dog as it ran by. The dad heard my greeting and walked over. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember your dog’s name,” he said apologetically. When I named Muppet. He responded, “and what’s your name?” shaking the small fist of the baby strapped to my chest.
“Felix,” I said smiling.
As he asked me about Felix’s age, his son came over and simply put his head up against Felix’s belly. I smiled an decided to do something a little courageous.
“Does your son have down syndrome?” I asked.
“Yes,” he responded, hesitantly, almost protective.
“My daughter had Down Syndrome,” I could see his expression soften, “but she died after birth. It makes me happy seeing your son interact with Felix because it let’s me picture what it might have been like if she lived.”
We then proceeded to exchange diagnosis stories- him at birth, after normal testing. Me, in pregnancy after very abnormal testing. Both of us “young” in the obstetrical world- without risk factors (though most babies with Down Syndrome are born to mothers who are medically “young.”) Both of us shocked. We talked about our connection to the Connecticut Down Syndrome Congress. He told me how is his native country, Russia, Down Syndrome is almost something to be ashamed of, giving me insight to his initial protectiveness, when I asked about his son. It also made me thankful that I live in a country where the two words that make up Down Syndrome are not a cause for shame. There is still a long journey towards inclusion and acceptance, but it’s progress.