Sometimes I have thoughts I don’t want to admit. When I was in the hospital and sat day after day next to Addison existing, surviving and sometimes barely breathing in his incubator for a month after his birth, I watched other babies come in the NICU - healthy babies. Relatives tapped on the windows and pointed at their proud offspring. Then a day or two later, the babies left. They always left. Each bundle wrapped in pink or blue. Every family off to a brand, new start.

I didn’t wish I had one those kids. It was funny how resolved and settled with the fact that Down Syndrome was a part of our life like my wrists and my spine. Down Syndrome was a part of me as much as it was a part of Addison. A child’s a lot of work, no matter the order of chrmosomes.

No, the feeling that I had was this: I wished one of those babies that left all cuddly and secure in their parent’s arms would have Down Syndrome. Then, I’d have someone to talk to. Even now, I look at women pregnant and think, maybe she’ll have a child with Downs. Then…then…I wouldn’t feel so alone. I’d have this chum and confidant to talk to and we could bond over heart surgeries and digestive conditions and therapists. These and other "icky" feelings creep into my thoughts once and awhile, and I want to deny they exist and beat them with a stick.

Do you wish Addison didn’t have Down Syndrome? I get that sometimes, and I do wonder that sometimes. What would life be without Down Syndrome? It would be without Addison. Period. It would be without Addison.

I really don’t "wish" Down Syndrome on anyone. When new babies arrive healthy, I am thrilled. I do have connections and know great families living with Downs. And after those fleeting moments of doubts, I get on with it. Both of my children delivered these grand lessons exactly when I needed it: My daughter has taught me patience; Addison has taught me to be a warrrior. They both have taught me how to love. And that, I am proud to admit.