I first heard the words "we suspect he has Down syndrome" nearly a week after the birth of my beautiful twin boys. Harrison lay "sunbathing" in the NICU, a mask covering his eyes and most of his little face. His arm and foot were wrapped in bandages to keep the array of tubes in order that kept him alive. He had a bandage around his belly where the surgeons had just opened his tiny, four pound plus body, to correct his mal-rotated intestines. Yet through all the wrappings he was unmistakably my son. He had his Dad’s mouth and chin and his athletic shoulders and torso. He and his brother were the spitting image of the handsome man I had married little more than a year prior. And so I too fell in love with them the moment I met them. The world was perfect for a few days. Here I was forty-four having given birth to two beautiful, healthy little boys despite what the geneticist had told me of the risks of having a child with chromosomal abnormalities. I asked the delivery room nurses. I asked the nurses in the nursery. They all said "they are fine" and "you would know by looking at them". And yet here I was, five days later being given "the news" for the first time. It would be more than two weeks later that I would receive the second blow, that Thomas too had DS.

The first "blow" was shocking. Indeed, I had worked with people with developmental disabilities before during my brief periods of assistance at Special Olympics. But I was always uncomfortable around such people. How do you act? What do you say? As someone totally unfamiliar with "that" world, I could not relate to the pains and joys experienced by the family members of developmentally disabled individuals. Yet somehow I dealt with the news about Harrison because there was always Thomas. He was normal… or so I thought. That was until September 9th, 2006. That is when my world, like yours, came to an end. Yet it did not really. True enough, I did not take to the second blow quite as well as the first. I cried for a whole day, lay in my bed and imagined the worst of my future. I told myself, I will never be happy again. I imagined a life of pain and suffering for both me and my boys. Yet, I discovered day that I was so very wrong. I was naïve to think that DS was then end of my happiness.

So that is my story. That is how I found out that both of my twin boys have DS. Yet I consider myself lucky though.

Now nearly two years later, I thank God for all the blessings that DS has brought me. I have learned so many lessons, first and foremost to stop and smell the roses. My boys are walking, they are beginning to talk, and they entertain my family and everyone they meet with their beautiful smiles and perpetually happy demeanors. Surely they do all the things a typical child does, they just do it at a slower pace. How wonderful it is that your tiny child, who will grow up in the blink of an eye, reaches his/her milestones at a slower pace? And how more precious it is when they do reach them? They are moments to savor… and you do… you will.

There is another blessing that DS has given me. It is the friendships I have made simply because my boys have DS. The network of parents and caregivers of children with DS have such an incredible bond. We support each other, we have fun together, we enjoy the privileges that come with being a parent of a "special" child. We count our blessings and there are many.

So why did I consider myself lucky on that fateful day, September 9th, 2006? Well I was fortunate to have had the honor of meeting my "little men" before I was given the diagnosis. I had already seen the uncanny resemblance to Daddy and I had already fallen in love. Those of you dealing with a pre-natal diagnosis do not have the good fortune of meeting that baby developing inside of you. You have not had a chance to see how much they look like you. You have not had a chance to fall in love. But you will. Please consider speaking to one of the many parents willing to tell you our stories. You might be pleasantly surprised. You may even be inspired.

With sincere hopes that we hear from you,

Mary Whittaker and the members of "A Life Worth Living"