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Stunned, my mind flashed to several things before I could actually process what she was saying; Brave? I thought, for what? buying the Albertson’s guacamole? For wearing a vintage 70’s poncho with Native Canadian Moccasins to the grocery store? for feeding my kids cookies before dinner? Then it hit me. She was telling me I was brave because I am caring for my son, who she must have identified had a disability or specifically Down Syndrome.
I spent the balance of my shopping excursion contemplating this stranger’s declaration of my “braveness”. At first I was irritated and it brought me back to the feelings of annoyance when Blake was first born and many people came to me with “I’m Sorry” statements instead of the natural reply to a new child’s birth, Congratulations! I was irritated at her ignorance for not knowing how amazing my son is despite his perceived disability. But after a long internal dialogue and reflection in the isles of this grocery store, I realized she was right. I am brave.
I am a mother. I have carried and nurtured cells to human life, I have given birth twice, I have spent countless sleepless nights tending to my children, I face societies ignorance every day when I step outside my door as people stare and whisper about my son. I struggle with the unknown future each day for both of my children. I stand back while other children the same age out play, out climb, out talk and out run my son.
Down Syndrome Awareness Month is now over but it is an important time for mothers, advocates and people living with Down Syndrome to have our voices and stories heard in hopes of educating the public.
I was planning to write about my traumatic birth experience with my son Blake followed by the traumatic manner in which his diagnosis was given and talk about the triumph one can feel out of such perceived trauma or tragedy until the other day when I was face to face with a stranger.
I was doing my regular domestic diva duties and grocery shopping with both of my children in tow. I may or may not have been pacifying them with a chocolate chip cookie so graciously given to frantic mothers shopping by the local bakery department (they must be mothers too).
I was casually glancing over at the produce when a stranger approached me and put a hand on each shoulder, staring intensely into my eyes saying “You are SO brave”. I paused in shock and gave my blanket polite response to any ‘compliment’ and was just able utter “Thank you”.
Before I could ask her what she was referring to she locked eyes with my little boy sitting in the grocery cart so patiently waiting for another bite of his chocolate chip cookie, she loudly proclaimed again, “BRAVE” and abruptly walked away.
By: Lisa Graystone Hergenroeder
Photo Credit: Tamara Wickstrom