Jackpot

“Oh honey, you’ve won the jackpot!”. A group of mums have just accepted me into their online Down syndrome network and are posting cute pics of their kids to welcome newborn Andrew. I’m reading to Alexei one of their comments.

“I wish we won a different jackpot”, I hear Alexei murmur and I throw an obligatory glaring look towards his direction. I have to admit, in this moment, a little part of me agrees as I am tempted to type his comment in the reply box. This is my husband. A friend once described him to someone as “the guy that says what everyone in the room is thinking but no one is willing to say out loud”. It’s often socially mortifying, I’m constantly living on the edge of another awkwardly impertinent or perhaps unfortunately pertinent comment that will send me into a flurry of performing social triage. Clearly I love living on the edge as I wouldn’t take him any other way. I love that man.

It’s not the only time I’ve heard “Down syndrome” and “jackpot” being used in the same sentence. “As far as disabilities go, you’ve hit the jackpot”, another dad comments. He’s allowed to say that. His son has Down syndrome too. My sister laughs when I relay her the comment. With two daughters at a Special Developmental school, she agrees “yeah, everyone loves the Down syndrome kids!”. I laugh too. I feel happy.

Actually I don’t know what I should be feeling. I have a million different conflicting feelings and thoughts and I’m riding this wave of hope through confusion past guilt and fear then purpose and even excitement.

I admit it’s nice to be part of this Down syndrome community. Except when I read the occasional negative comment online that sends me into a bit of a spin. And then I hate it. Then I pick myself up and think about this road less travelled we’re on, I look over at my boys and I’m happy again.

A while back I read in an article that the chances of a newly conceived baby with an extra chromosome surviving are next to none. Most don’t live past the first few minutes, hours or days after conception. And for a baby with an extra chromosome to survive a pregnancy and be born into this world alive is simply miraculous.

The article gives me new eyes. I got to meet my son. Through a kind of miracle of nature, I’m able to hold him, see him, talk to him. I’m not the one that missed out. I met my child and I feel… special, privileged, happy. Almost like I have won… well, a sort of jackpot.