Will I ever learn to say away from comment sections?

I did something dumb this morning. We've all been there. You know that place... where you have just finished reading an article and for some reason you decide to read the comments. And then there in the comment section you see how terrible people can be when they are hiding behind their computer screens.

If you don't know, there was a report that came out this week that in Iceland 100% of babies with a prenatal Down syndrome diagnosis are aborted. They are not alone. Denmark, Netherlands and other countries are close behind. In America the percentage is still high at 67%. This morning, I was reading an opinion piece further exploring this report and that encouraged more awareness be brought to the discussion so that more women choose life. I scrolled through the comments expecting outrage at Iceland and crying emojis for all the babies who never had a chance to show the world how awesome they are. Not so. Instead I was met with comments like this:

"... if it's a personal choice to knowlingly [bring a child with Down syndrome into the world], what is society's obligation? Seems that it has implications to people outside the immediate family so it really is a bigger issue. Right now, people who have disabled children get public money to be a parent. (editor's note: Really? We haven't received a single dollar since Elliot was born. That's news to me.) That is wrong if society has no say."

"A fetus has NO awareness. Bringing a severely handicapped child into the world when you knew far before to the point of viability is nothing more than selfish cruelty inflicting unimaginable suffering to salve your own conscience. You get a bad egg you throw it away and start again."

"My taxes are through the roof because my kids' schools are filled with special education teachers, or because kids are being bussed out of district to special needs schools. The cost for 'special' children is a burden on us all, especially our children and the schools... It's too much."

That's just a sampling. The more I scrolled, the more I cried. It was like a train wreck I couldn't draw my eyes away from. I was telling a friend earlier this week that I felt like ever since Elliot was born, we've been so fortunate to live in kind of a bubble. Since I stay home, he's not in daycare and the only people we really see are family and friends who have all fallen in love with Elliot. I told her I was nervous about what public school this year will bring.

And for a moment, reading these comments, all I could think was there is going to be some parent at my kids' school that will see Elliot and only think about his tax dollars and how he's not worth it because he's "suffering" anyway. My next thought was... well, I have a lot more work to do then.

My son should not be reduced to a dollar sign. He is a little boy filled with potential. He loves dinosaurs. He loves to paint. He loves to throw balls. He loves to terrorize his sister. He gives the best hugs and is the first to offer a smile. And with the loving support of his family and an inclusive education, he will become a productive member of society. Sounds pretty much just like any other kid, doesn't he? This isn't 1960, people! The outlook for people with Down syndrome has changed. Unfortunately, perceptions have not.

Elliot is not suffering. He is LOVED beyond measure. Yes, he has health concerns we have to monitor. Yes, he has therapy appointments weekly. Some weeks it's hard. But you know what? Some weeks my five-year-old daughter and her attitude are hard!

We need to ask ourselves what gives a life value? Chromosome counts? Skin color? Academic success? Athletic ability? No, a life has value because it's a life and we are all image bearers of God.

The elderly woman in the nursing home? Image bearer of God.
The immigrant trying to put food on the table? Image bearer of God.
The African-American boy walking down the street? Image bearer of God.
The little girl with almond-shaped eyes? Image bearer of God.
The prison inmate? The CEO of a major company? Your Muslim neighbor? YOU YOURSELF?
All image bearers of God and ALL worthy of the breath in their lungs!

Hitler prescribed to eliminating people with disabilities, too, you know. And the entire world rallied against him. And I will continue to rally against that thinking by sharing Elliot's life with the world. Down syndrome isn't a tragedy, but outdated information and close-minded thinking are. It hurts my heart there are people out there that view my son as a burden. It literally brought tears to my eyes today. But, at the very least, it gives further fuel to my fire to stand for life, education and opportunities for people with Down syndrome.

Daughter of the King

I was not popular in high school. I had bad teeth and a hopeless fashion sense. I was a part of a specialty choir that dressed up in Victorian frocks and sang Christmas carols around town. Don't get me wrong, I loved it, but it didn't necessarily scream "cool." My friends and I did things like race cantaloupes down driveways for a good time. I had a tremendous group of core friends that made me feel loved and safe, but in the grand scheme of high school, I was a shy, introverted honor student that lacked self-confidence.

I've come a long way since then. Not only did I fix my teeth and learn how to dress, I also found my voice as I transitioned into adulthood. I slowly realized it's OK not to follow the trends. It's OK to be artsy. It's OK to have a few really awesome, genuine friends than a lot of fake ones.

I'm bringing up this subject because my daughter Adele is starting kindergarten this year and will soon start navigating the real world. A conversation I had with a friend the other day sparked these thoughts that follow. I confided with her that despite all of my personal growth since high school, sometimes doubt can creep in. I can run into someone from high school or be met with a new challenge and suddenly, I feel like that awkward girl again. I think to myself how did I land such a super hot husband? How am I fit to serve in the way God is calling me? How can meek, little me raise three strong kids?

These thoughts are fleeting, but they grab at me. When talking with my friend, she told me she often feels the same way and she asked me, "Are you ever scared Adele will feel how you felt?"

The truth is I do especially now that's she's starting public school. I've always told myself I'd make sure she would get braces. I'd make sure she knows how to style her hair. I'd make sure to give her every opportunity to find a sport or activity she can excel in. I'd volunteer in her classroom and be on the PTO. I'd do everything I could to make her feel loved and valued. Then as I was thinking about all of this, I realized something. None of that really matters. It's all secondary to teaching her to find her value in Christ.

Christ loved me when I was a nerdy teenager and he loves me today. Christ had a plan for me then and he as a plan for me now. Christ loves Adele and that's all she needs to know as she begins to find her place in this world. Of course, I want her to find her niche, make friends and know that her parents love her, but above all of that, I want her to learn how to be a woman of God. That's where she will ultimately find her true worth... that's where all of us can since we are made in his image (Genesis 1:27). And whether she's a star gymnast, a quiet poet or a struggling student, God loves her and has a plan for her life according to his will. It is my sincere prayer Adele learns to find peace with that and finds confidence in knowing that she is a daughter of the King.

Letting Go of Anxious Thoughts

Control. Such a hard thing to release, isn't it? I feel like ever since I had Elliot, giving up control has been a central theme in my walk with Christ. I didn't even realize how much of a control freak I was to be honest. I mean, I'd let Adele use the glue bottle on her own. I'd let Justin pick the restaurant. I had a classroom full of high schoolers who changed my desktop backgrounds on the daily and I didn't freak out about it. I didn't have a control problem, right?

What I failed to see was, sure, I didn't sweat the small stuff... but the big stuff? Health, family, the future... all of that was closely guarded. The crazy part of it is, the big stuff is the hardest to control, but there I was grasping at straws. I make no secret that when Elliot was born I went into a dark place for about 24 hours and it took several more days to fully grasp what was ahead of us. I thought about the weirdest things in that time... like would parents let their kids play with him, would Justin and I enjoy our retirement years, would teenager Elliot be able to use the men's room alone if I took him shopping? I googled things like "can people with Down syndrome drive." I was so worried at first about the future instead of what was in front of me.

It took a lot of prayer and a lot of sob sessions with Justin to teach me to tackle what I can and not worry about what I can't. So at the time, our first goal was getting him out of the NICU. Then we graduated to physical, occupational and speech therapy. And with each milestone that was slow-going, God taught me that "slow-going" was just fine. And when each milestone was met... how sweet those moments have been.

So here we are... another milestone coming toward us. Elliot is about to turn three and is all set up for public school in the fall. This is one of those moments I fretted about during those first few days. What used to be listed under "I can't tackle right now" has suddenly been moved over to the "I can" column. It's exciting and intimidating at the same time. I can't wait to see how Elliot shines, because I know that's what he's going to do.

Though I have to admit, as I was preparing for his evaluations, the control freak in me crept back up again. I poured over Facebook groups, read blogs about inclusion and researched laws. I read stories about kids with Down syndrome learning how to brush their teeth at school instead of how to read. I read Facebook comments from moms whose school districts refused to try inclusion (which is illegal, by the way). I drove myself crazy researching IQ tests.

Then suddenly I realized I was developing a chip on my shoulder. I was anticipating the school district would fail Elliot before I even gave them a chance and I was exhausting myself in the process. So there I was at 2 a.m. the morning of his evaluation stressing myself out when God brought me to my knees again.

"When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul," Psalm 94:19 tells us. Goodness, I love that verse. The NASB version starts with "when my anxious thoughts multiply within me." I feel like it's so easy to go down the rabbit hole of worry. Having a child with special needs brings on a plethora of anxious thoughts and they can spread like wildfire in my brain. I've taught myself when I get overwhelmed to turn off the noise and pray. Just pray. Cry if I need to. Breathe a lot. And pray.

About a week after his evaluation, I attended Elliot's first ARD meeting. I was so nervous. I prepared to walk myself into a room full of naysayers, but knew God was in control. When it came time for me to introduce myself, I pulled out Elliot's latest school photo from our church's mother's day out program. I set it up on the table so they could see his big blue eyes through the whole meeting. There was a collective "awww" when they saw the picture. Elliot can charm a room that's he's not even in!

The meeting went well. I made known our goals for inclusion when he gets to kindergarten and was met with positive feedback. He's also going to be at the same school as his sister, which is such a blessing! I truly feel that we're off to a good start. I plan to stay vigilant and on top of his IEP, but isn't it so comforting to know that God already has plans in place? Isn't it so freeing to relinquish that control? It's hard to do, but once you are able to trust God completely, suddenly those anxious thoughts drift away.

So go ahead, let go of the glue bottle. It might get messy, but God's always in control.