Explaining Down Syndrome, To My Daughter, And Myself,
He stuck out his lower lip. "I want to be special."
A syndrome means, at root, a 'running together.' When you have a child, it all runs together: the heart defect, the eyes, the way her voice sounds, the name of the speech therapist, the worries over the future, the joys of discovery, the sliding sense--slow, quiet, enormous, an avalanche in the skull--that different is not as different as you thought. The genes produce the child, who lives a story, whose story is bound up with yours. So reducing a child to a heap of medical fragments is, for a parent, a complicated and dissonant act. It is a necessary fiction, a story one tells only in order to move on.