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Living with a Father who has Down’s Syndrome

Since having Saajan, I’m given daily inspiration from the beautiful stories I see all over social media showing that people with Down’s Syndrome can lead pretty normal and fulfilling lives given the right support. When I saw the title “Man says father with Down’s Syndrome inspired him to be the best person possible” pop up on my news feed, my heart skipped a beat and I had to re-read it as I couldn’t quite believe it. It’s a known fact that most males with Down’s Syndrome are infertile. So to see a story written by a son of a father who happens to have Down’s Syndrome is pretty remarkable. More than the fact that Mr Issa was able to have children, the entire story is maybe the most heart-warming and inspirational story I’ve heard. Not only because Mr Issa (Sader’s father) went against all odds and fathered a son, but also because of how more alike than different he is to a strong family man who may not have Down’s Syndrome – where he has worked so hard to provide for his family and so that his son can have a sound education, where he has a solid relationship with family and friends and where he has a loving marriage where they ride the typical motions that most couples do! Mr Issa has achieved more in his life time than some living without an extra chromosome have. I reached out to Sader as I really wanted to hear more. Hearing Sader’s story about his father, Mr Issa, touched me so deeply and made me realise the future is as much Saajan’s as it is anyone elses. Thank you Sader for sharing more about your beautiful family and for making me realise that Down’s Syndrome or not, both Arjun and Saajan are incharge of their own destiny no matter what hurdles they may face! Here’s what Sader shared with me …
I am a dentistry student who loves sports like swimming and bodybuilding. I’m a pretty regular guy who likes watching movies and spending time with my friends. I currently live at home with my parents in Syria. My father has four brothers and three sisters and he is treated with love and respect by his family despite being born with Down’s Syndrome. My mother and father were introduced through family and I think it was pretty much love at first site! He is treated with love and respect by my mother’s family and by all the people who know him. My father works hard in a wheat factory where he has worked for the last 25 years, 6 days a week. In the winter, he is in charge of selling the products that are produced in the summer. In the summer, he works on a machine that grinds the wheat. We are a pretty regular family. My mother is a housewife and works hard at maintaining the house while my father is out to work and I am focusing on my studies at the moment. My father and I have a great father and son relationship – he is my friend, my brother and my father. I totally admire everything that he has done for me. I have a father who loves me and supports me in everything that I do unconditionally.
My father enjoys watching Syrian TV shows, visiting relatives and drinking coffee with neighbours. Having a father with Down’s Syndrome has impacted my relationships for the better. Many people look up to our family because of all that my father has achieved. As a child who grew up with a father with Down’s Syndrome, I know exactly how pure hearted and loving they are but also that they have ambition and drive and deserve a decent life and do not deserve to be aborted. What makes me most proud of my father is that although a lot of people thought that what he was trying to do was impossible, he did not pay attention to them and worked hard to earn money for his family so that I can go to school and learn. Many people think that a person with Down’s Syndrome are not able to live an ordinary life, that they are unable to get married or have kids – it may be rare (there are currently 3 documented cases of a male with Down’s Syndrome having a child though there may be many undocumented cases), but my father is an example that it is possible! I believe each and every person in this world deserves to be loved and appreciated, including people with Down’s Syndrome. I believe people with Down’s Syndrome and other disabilities deserve respect as they are able to achieve a lot more than many assume.
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Mental Illness & Me – A NICU Mum | Guest Post

While you’re pregnant, you never really imagine the prospect of your little one being whisked away to NICU.  I never did. My pregnancy was relatively ok and I didn’t for a second entertain the idea. Saajan ended up staying in NICU for four nights due to low blood sugar.  I was so confused by the diagnosis, coupled with my baby not physically being with me, it was my lowest of low time.

 

Below, fellow NICU mum, Vicki, talks about her journey as a NICU mum, her baby being born with an unexpected heart condition and the impact it had on her mental health.

 

When I found out I was pregnant with my eldest, I enjoyed 9 months of preparing the nursery, rubbing cream in my growing bump and wondering what he would look like.

I was determined to right all of the wrongs of my past with being the best mother I could be.

After a good birth, I met my son 8 hours later and 12 hours after that I was facing the worst time of my life.

My son was born with an undiagnosed heart condition and was fighting for his life in need of surgery.

For 9 days I watched as someone took care of my son, I was present and functioning but it was as though I was watching someone else go through this.

Very early on (whilst in hospital) I began to deteriorate mentally. I began to skip meals and abuse the pills I was on.

In the first year of Elijah’s life that steadily got worse. There is no support system on offer when you have a baby in NICU.

You adjust to NICU life and then if your lucky to be discharged your sent home and expected to get on with your life as if it never happened.

But it did.

The flashbacks, nightmares were too much, and we still had a surgery to get through, 18 months after Elijah’s birth I was diagnosed with PTSD.

The whole of Elijah’s first year I was spent spiralling and hiding what I was doing to everyone.

I became lost, I hide away not wanting to be the mother of the ill baby.

Surgery was three years ago now, and Elijah is a healthy and happy little boy.

The NICU flashbacks came back when I fell pregnant a second time and began to fear it would happen all over again. That we had to go through everything a second time. I didn’t think I was strong enough to do it again and as a result didn’t enjoy my pregnancy. Once again I was depressed but too scared to tell anyone as it was supposed to be a happy time right?

Ante natal depression is something we don’t routinely discuss.

Harlow was born after a very quick 50 minute labour and I spent so much time comparing the two experiences I developed post natal depression.

It is the most depressed I have ever been, and I was suicidal at numerous points. I got help very early on but the pills masked over it for a while it is only now 10 months on and in therapy I am facing all of the issues head on now.

Once that should have been dealt with and fixed all those years ago in NICU.

This is why I am launching a campaign for demand change and funding for a dedicated system to be out into ever NICU ward for better mental health care for NICU parents. For them to be assessed and have follow up care after discharge. To avoid like so many of us to still have to face these issues years down the line.

I began my blog when Elijah was 18 months old as a way to process what I had been through and have openly confessed to all of my mental health struggles in hope the more we talk, raise awareness the more we can normalize mental health issues.

For months, even years I was ashamed to go get help. Fearful they would take my children away and I let it fester worried I was a bad mother, that I wasn’t normal.

I spent three years constantly living in NICU in my head, never processing it, never dealing with it and letting it affect so much of my life when I should have been enjoying the fairy tale of motherhood I had first dreamt about.

I won’t get that time back and it is hard to reflect on the times I was so low I thought my family, my boys would be better off without me. But in sharing my story, and in launching the campaign I hope that it means that others may not have to go through what we did, as they will have the access, knowledge and confidence to help.

 

 

Vicki Cockerill is a NICU/ CHD Mum of two boys, a freelance blogger and social media adviser, Co-Founder of #knackeredandNorwich social club and maternal mental health advocate.

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Post Natal Psychosis in the Asian Community – The Unspoken | Guest Post

One of the main reasons I started my blog was as an outlet for me to express myself during my darker days of Post Natal Depression (PND). What I didn’t realise is, how many women were in the same boat as me but didn’t speak out about it openly – especially in the Asian community. I’d like to think as a community, we’ve moved forward with being more open and accepting of mental health issues but I know there is a long way to go and there is still a stigma attached to it.

Since I started sharing my journey, the blog has become a lot more meaningful than I ever could have imagined. I thought my darkest days had come and gone after I had Arjun and went through PND. What I didn’t realise was I had a whole lot worse coming my way.

When you fall pregnant, you have a perception of how things will pan out – you expect it to be just like those glossy magazines portray – an instant burst of joy, a natural high as you sniff the first whiff of your baby’s smell, the instant bond you feel as you hold them close and have skin to skin contact. All the firsts. All the magical moments. You imagine everything will be blissful.

You believe that anything that deviates from this immaculate picture is wrong and suddenly you’re consumed by a wave of guilt, panic, fear. You begin to believe there is something wrong with you, that you’re not bonding with your child.

For me, that was the beginning of a downward spiral – when my reality didn’t meet my expectations. When things didn’t quite go to plan. When my labour was a lot longer than expected, where I was unable to meet my baby till he was 5 hours old. Where I received an unexpected diagnosis.

For me, I didn’t feel that instant burst with Arjun. I was confused. With Saajan, I fell in love instantly – for all of 9 hours till we received his diagnosis, the comfort and warmth I felt was ripped from beneath my feet within seconds. My world turned full circle within 10 hours. The wave of sadness I experienced after my mind became clouded with misconceptions, as I grieved for the child I thought I was going to have, – nothing could ever have prepared me for.

Though I’ve come a long way, I still have sheer moments of devastation and sadness. I wonder if I’d still have these feelings if Saajan wasn’t diagnosed with Down Syndrome. I think deep down I know I can’t attribute all of what I experience to just his diagnosis. Though that has been life changing.

My blog isn’t only a forum for me, it’s a forum for others to also share their journeys. I’m always honoured when others ask to share their stories here as it means together we are able to help more and more people that are in the same boat that may feel the same way that we do.

On the internet, you’ll find quite a bit of information on PND, however, Post Natal Psychosis is almost unheard of in the Asian community. Raising awareness for such a serious illness is something I hope we can do by sharing the below story. To protect the identity of the author and her family, all names have been changed. We will call the lovely lady, Simran. I’ve been speaking to Simran and my heartbreaks when I hear all that she has been through.

The loneliness.

The fear.

The devastation

The guilt

The absence of information.

The unknown.

The lack of support from professionals – those who we trust our own and our children’s lives with.

Although I appreciate the NHS are stretched, I do believe that being in that field of work takes a special kind of person. Adopting an impersonal and robotic approach especially in exceptional circumstances can have devastating mental effects on the patient. Humanity costs nothing.

I was thankful for the support I received during my pregnancies but I also felt a huge void after receiving Saajan’s diagnosis – I was handed a leaflet – the first page told me my son had a 15% increased chance of developing leukaemia, and that was pretty much it for a few days. I was left to deal with things on my own though thankfully the midwives were very warm and comforting in their own way though they didn’t seem equipped to be able to answer my questions or to deal with me. I became obsessed with the horrible life I thought we were going to have. I convinced myself that my life was over. I didn’t want this life.

There is sometimes also a misconception that a c section is the easy way out, that you don’t have to go through labour – Simran demonstrates how it can leave you feeling paralysed and incapable of tasking care of your newborn – that combined with the hormonal roller-coaster can be a recipe for disaster. A c section is a serious operation and often women don’t get the choice. The aftermath of a c section can be damaging as was the case with me. I didn’t change Arjun’s nappy for two weeks – Preetam and my sisters did it before me, as I was unable to care for him immediately, my confidence was absolutely shattered and it left me feeling like a hopeless and incompetent mother. I couldn’t be alone with Arjun as I believed I wasn’t a good mother despite what others told me. I became my own worst enemy.

I am so grateful to God for giving me the opportunity of meeting so many amazing and strong women through the blog. Together, we stand stronger.

Thank you Simran for your bravery and for allowing us to be a part of your recovery journey. Always in our prayers!

If you are experiencing any of the symptoms described below, please reach out. Although Simran was let down in many ways before receiving the right help, I’d like to believe that this isn’t reflective of everyone in the profession.

If you’d like to help us raise awareness, please share this post wide and far and please have conversations with your family, friends, colleagues to create a more open environment for those suffering with mental illnesses to be able to talk – it could save a life.

Simran’s journey …

The day I found out I was pregnant; my husband and I were both ecstatic! For most it takes a while to get excited or prepared and to get over the shock but for us the planning started almost immediately. Discussions of maternity dates, nursery themes and making endless lists of things we needed.

12 weeks
12 weeks felt like a long time to wait for the first scan compared to our excitement and then the day finally came. The sonographer told us to watch the screen whilst she was faffing around looking for our baby and then within a few minutes there he was. Our faces both lit up whilst she had a slightly puzzling look on her face. She then congratulated us and showed us we were expecting twins.

I was expecting twins.

That was a curveball I definitely didn’t expect! The shock was evident on both our faces!

We informed our families of the news as soon as we got back home and they could not have been any happier. Everyone wanted to get involved with the planning and we were so lucky to have people offering to help straight away to ease the stress off us both.

I soon after met with a midwife whom I knew almost straight away wouldn’t be useful. Any questions I asked or concerns I had she responded with roundabout answers about how I should google it or speak to a consultant. For light conversation constantly talked about her own pregnancy, which was of no help to me. I couldn’t talk to her, so maybe the consultant would be the way to go and I had plenty of time I thought at this point.

20 weeks
My husband and I agreed we did not want to know the sex of the twins and wanted it to be a surprise. We were so excited to see our babies again and this time was hoping there would be no shock. We had our scan and both of our babies were healthy and everything looked perfect. I asked when I would be seeing the consultant as I was told all consultant appointments were aligned with my scans. Everyone I asked told me to wait for a letter even though I expressed I needed to see a consultant to answer the concerns I had about carrying twins! There was little help and I was told to wait.

25 weeks
After a month of nothing, I knew I had to be proactive as my concerns were growing and I couldn’t find anything to help me personally. I went in for my scan and demanded to see a consultant, it worked. The consultant came and begun by checking my blood test results from 6 weeks prior to the date which showed my HB levels to be critical. There was no communication about how this had been missed, had I not asked to see the consultant in the first place I dread to think of when it would have been detected.

My husband and I were not told any details about what this meant if anything the consultant continuously said to my husband in an accusatory tone he would have been “put in prison” for not looking after his wife in his country as if this was somehow something my husband should have known and detected. We were confused, uncomfortable, anxious and felt slightly threatened. The consultant did not answer my concerns or comfort me, instead he scared me and increased my anxiety.

29 weeks
I started to feel tightening pains in my stomach, not knowing if I was being absurd or not I ignored them thinking this is what it must feel like when two babies are moving inside of you. Until the pains became so strong I couldn’t ignore them any longer, I began to panic. From the research I had done, I knew it was likely that twins came early but surely not this early?!

I rung the hospital to let them know and they asked me to come in just to get checked. The consultant wanted to check my cervix but I asked him to wait for my husband so I felt comfortable.

Once my husband arrived, the consultant checked my cervix and we were informed in minutes, there was a high chance I would be going into labour. My husband kept asking him how sure he was but he said there was so definite answer but it was looking pretty likely. I was told I was not able to stay in the hospital and they would need to find a bed elsewhere for me and the twins. We were told it could be as near as the next town or as far as 100 miles. Luckily (the only thing that went in our favour) a hospital in the next town were able to have me. I received steroid injections to strengthen the twins’ lungs and was then transferred by ambulance.

I stayed in hospital for 5 days having various injections, around the clock monitoring and different drips, it was all a blur. I was then finally given the all clear to go home (at this point all I wanted was my own bed). I didn’t go into labour and everything was ok, it was scary that something like this could happen and I had no idea why or what I could do.

31 weeks
I had another growth scan to ensure everything was okay. The sonographer showed us the twins, did some measurements and asked us to take a seat in the waiting room. The same consultant that wanted to imprison my Husband informed us that;

One twin had stopped growing and my HB levels had dropped further.

I required a drip to increase my levels. When was this nightmare going to end? It kept getting worse and we couldn’t even think of the next step without being terrified. A series of scans were booked for everyday to check the placenta, the umbilical cord and monitoring the baby’s heartbeat. Followed by a growth scan in 2 weeks. We were finally making progress, something proactive was happening and we could understand the course of action.

I asked to discuss a birth plan, I wanted to mentally prepare myself and of course everyone always says it never goes to plan, the whole point is to have an idea and understand your options and what to expect to some extent. I had already experienced a scare, I wanted to know more! The consultant told me to wait. The midwife, at every single appointment I had told me to speak to a consultant. I was at a dead end!

33 weeks
My husband and I were exhausted, hardly any rest and the hospital became our second home. This was our last appointment before the growth scan in a couple of days. The sonographer asked me to get in lots of different positions so she was able to check the pressure on the umbilical cord. She then asked us to take a seat in the waiting room, we knew what this meant by now – bad news! A midwife told us I would need to stay at the hospital for monitoring as the pressure from the umbilical cord was too high for one of the twins and it was of concern.

My husband went home to collect my overnight bag whilst I was taken to the ward. I was confused as to what this meant but there was no one around to answer my questions, I was just being told where to go, tested on as if I had no feelings or position to have questions.

I stayed overnight, woke up in the morning and thought of what I had planned for the day had I not been stuck in hospital. I had planned to go to the cinema as a treat before I gave birth and to collect our pushchair from the store as I received the confirmation. Instead I finished my breakfast and waited for a consultant to talk to me. It was impersonal and routine, I watched the consultant walk in, no pleasantries, no communication. She placed her red Gucci bag on my bed and flicked through my notes. She looked up at my worried face and told me they would be delivering today and I needed a C-section as she did not want to put the babies through any more distress. I had questions, I asked her to talk me through the process before I had a chance to say anything further she said the midwife would explain, picked up her bag and left.

A C-section, babies arriving today. I rung my husband feeling absolutely lost for words and terrified hoping he could tell me there was a plan and he could do something to help. The uncertainty was overwhelming. Would they be ok? It was too early! What would happen? I pressed the buzzer hoping someone would come and answer my questions and comfort me. I resorted to Google as no one came, I did this for 6 hours until I was moved into a labour suite.

The procedure – 33 weeks
My husband and I met the anaesthetist who told me the midwife would come shortly and explain the whole procedure. We were taken in, no midwife came. I had an epidural and the procedure started. My husband sat to the right of me by my bed and a set of doors just behind him leading to another room. I didn’t feel much but then…

I heard a cry!

A nurse ran, with my baby. My baby was in her arms as she ran through the doors. What was happening? I asked my husband what had happened and if our baby was ok. My attention diverted, I could hear the surgeon “come on baby, come on please”. What was happening?

I heard another cry!

The same thing happened, a nurse ran with my baby. My twins. Were they both ok? What did I have? I asked the anethisist who said he could only find out once he was able to go. I asked if my husband was able to go and find out and he agreed.

My husband came back and told me we had two beautiful healthy baby boys who didn’t require help breathing but needed to be taken to neo-natal. I wanted to see them, to hold them and to make sure with my own arms that they were ok.

24 hours post – birth
I was stitched up and taken back to the ward, a room at the end of a long corridor. I felt alone, isolated and far from everything and especially my sons. My husband took photos but I wanted them with me and to hold them.

I was in pain now as the drugs started to lose their effect, I needed pain relief and an update on my sons, no one came. I pressed the buzzer for a long time. I’m not sure how I survived that night, emotionally drained and physically my body felt alien to me and yet I could feel pain.

8am
Two midwives came in to remove the catheter, I asked for pain relief as it had been almost 12 hours and it was tough. They didn’t come back.

9am
My husband arrived with a wheelchair to take me to see the boys, I couldn’t move because the pain was unbearable. He couldn’t believe I had not been given anything in 13 hours and demanded the midwife brought me pain relief, I was given a paracetamol and I asked the midwife to help me into the wheelchair. This midwife told me I needed to mobilise and she wasn’t going to help me, I begged for a little help, I wanted to move, I wanted to see the boys, I wanted to be out of that room but I couldn’t without being in pain. She said and I can remember this because I couldn’t believe how I was being treated…

“I have other patients who have their babies with them and need help, you are wasting my time”

I felt worthless. My husband stepped in and tried to help and she snapped at him saying “Make her do it herself”. I felt nauseous, dizzy and in pain but I did it eventually but I was so upset I couldn’t think of anything else. Was I really worthless? How was I going to look after my boys? I had failed already? Was I not fit to be a mum? This couldn’t be real, it was a nightmare and would I ever wake up?

In the evening, after some rest I was able to slowly get into the wheelchair and went to see the twins for the first time for an hour. The nurses in the unit kept talking to me about expressing milk and how I had to start it straight away. I fell in love with my babies from the moment I saw them but I couldn’t help the overwhelming feel of guilt. I had failed them. Why had it taken me over 24 hours to come and see them? Would they know who I was? Seeing all the tubes and machines made me feel worthless. Useless. I was a bad mum. I couldn’t provide for my babies when they needed me.
The following morning, a midwife told me I had to leave the hospital that day as they were discharging me. I told her I needed help expressing as no one had come to help and I was not able to move still so how would I come to see my babies? She told me there was nothing wrong with me and that I needed to get a pump and “get on with it”.

I managed to stay one more night and attempted to start expressing. All these thoughts and comments from the midwives began to echo in my head.

Going home
I left the hospital alone, long gone where my dreams of leaving with a baby or the twins and going to the Gurdwara straight away. I left with a breast pump and was alone. I was abandoning them and I felt like everyone knew. I walked along and could see people looking out for a baby/the twins.

The midwife’s voice followed me, she wouldn’t stop. She kept telling me I was a bad mum and the boys were better off without me. How was she following me? I looked around, she wasn’t there. Why was I hearing her? I felt someone behind me, I looked to my left. He was there, the consultant. I was confused. I stood there staring at him and told my husband he was there. He didn’t know what I was on about so I stayed quiet. I didn’t understand. Why did my husband not acknowledge him?

The next few weeks I spent constantly expressing. We would stay at the hospital from 9am – 9pm. I still felt no bond. I would sit next to the incubators crying just hoping I could have done something different. I would hold their hands constantly saying sorry over and over again. Her voice still echoed in my head. “You did this” was what I heard every time I entered.

Once the twins were home, the next few months were hell. I couldn’t tell anyone what I was experiencing, she told me they could all hear and see them but everyone wanted me to suffer. He would follow me wearing a black hoody, always looking down with a gun in one pocket and a knife in his right hand. Why was this happening? Why would no one tell them to leave me alone? Why was no one scared? I never understood but was still too afraid to say.

It all got too much. Everyone wanted to see the boys, I didn’t want anyone near them. She told me people wanted to visit to hurt them. I was afraid. I wanted to be alone.

Then came everyone’s unwanted advice. I would always complain I didn’t want people’s advice because they didn’t understand what was happening but I was told to just agree or ignore it. I couldn’t. Why was everyone undermining me? I wasn’t able to leave my babies for a moment without having someone constantly judging me. I lost myself. My family were confused. I was always chirpy and happy to help others. I wanted to stay in a room alone with no one around. I had to, she told me I had to. She told me she knew what was best for me.

We were in and out of hospital with various different problems with the twins and she told me it was me. When I touched them, I was hurting them. I was confused. Before I was the only person to protect them and then I was the one hurting them. I had to believe her. She told me I had to and if I didn’t, he would hurt the twins with his knife. I would shake in fear. I had to stay away from my babies to protect them.

First it was to stay away then she told me I could no longer be round. I had to go. I had to go to the bridge. The bridge that was a couple of miles away from our home, I had to go and jump. She told me if I didn’t, he would hurt the twins and I couldn’t let that happen.
I tried to reason with her, I tried speaking with my health visitor to explain I was struggling but could never explain the full extent. I tried with the GP but she told me I wasn’t allowed to tell them. I had no choice, I had to go. I wasn’t allowed out the house on my own at this point as my husband knew something wasn’t right. I had to ask him to take me, it was the only way. He told me it would all be ok but it wasn’t going to be ok. She was right, they all wanted to see me suffer and that’s why he wouldn’t take me.

I needed to go. No one would take me so there was only one way, to escape. I ran out the house, in the hope I would get there. My husband carried me home. I sobbed, why was he stopping me? I spoke with the crisis team on the phone after my mum made the referral, the man on the phone said they were going to help. Finally. Someone is going to help me and take me. I drew the map ready to give to them. I was ready with my shoes on stood by the window. The crisis team were called, I kept telling them we needed to go right away. They asked me a few questions and told me I had to go with them to a hospital. I was confused. I didn’t want to go to a hospital, I told them I needed to go to the bridge. Why were they not listening? I refused to go only for them to inform me I was to be sectioned as I was a risk to myself under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act. I had no choice, it was either that or the police taking me.

I stayed in hospital for 2 weeks until being granted leave. Things didn’t improve. Then the self-harm started. It was relief from the pain I was enduring. I couldn’t do anything. I was under constant watch. The house keys had been locked away, someone with me at all times.
I was taken back to the hospital after I tried to escape again. I stayed again for 2 weeks for the consultant to tell me I had a Borderline Personality Disorder. I was confused – they were trying to pin anything on me. This couldn’t be right.

I met with a psychiatrist from the perinatal team and spoke about the consultant who followed me and the midwife giving instructions. She referred me right away to the mother and baby unit. I didn’t want to go to another hospital to be diagnosed with something that was not right. She agreed I did not have a personality disorder.

The urge to go to the bridge was still strong. I left the house following an argument with my husband and went to my mums. When I left, she told me now was my chance to go to the bridge. I felt a sigh of relief knowing I was able to. My parents knew something was wrong. I went to a bridge close by but she told me I had to wait for people to leave and I was then able to jump. I could feel the tip of the knife poking my spine. I had to do this. My friend managed to find my location from my phone and phoned me to tell me to go to my car. I sat in the car telling her everything was fine and I had to do this, the man stood outside the car tapping the window with his knife. I had to do this.

I heard sirens, it was the police along with my parents. I couldn’t go to another hospital. I begged them to leave. I tried running towards the bridge but they caught me. I was taken to the crisis team who again gave me a tablet to calm me but they didn’t listen. Why was no one respecting my wishes?

A few days later, I was taken to the mother and baby unit with my twins. It felt strange. Following observations and meetings with consultants, I was diagnosed with Post-Partum Psychosis.

My journey hasn’t yet ended but I am on the road to recovery with the right treatment. I am undergoing EMDR along with medication. I wish I had the birth I dreamt of. I wish I was able to hold my babies straight away. I wish I felt that bond. I wish I spoke out earlier before everything escalated. It’s been difficult writing my story but my only wish now is that I will be able to help someone speak out when they need help.

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Down Syndrome Diaries | Why I Chose to Work With Those With Down Syndrome

When Amber first messaged me, my heart instantly melted – I really struggle to find words to describe how I feel about Amber. She’s a vivacious little fire cracker with a heart of gold. She sees no different and is probably one of the biggest Down Syndrome advocates I’ve ever come across. Unlike the other stories I’ve shared, Amber has no direct relation to someone with Down Syndrome. At such a young age, she has chosen to dedicate her life to supporting those with Down Syndrome because, as she describes below, it’s changed he life. Plus she says most of her friends can do things that she’s still unable to do – Matt regularly helps her with her washing as she doesn’t know how to use a washing machine! Haha!

You’ll often see Amber going on a night out with some of her closest friends, who happen to have Down Syndrome who she is not a support worker for. She chooses to be friends with them as she genuinely gets along with them and has a fantastic time with them. She says her life would not be the same without them. She has a pure heart of gold and what I wish for is a world full of people with as pure a lens as she has.

Amber has dedicated her choice of studying to studying Down Syndrome and prenatal testing and isn’t shy to shout it off the roof tops just how proud she is of her friends.

She has held my hand through this journey – she is an absolute God send, any time I have any fears or worries, I know she’ll be able to answer them herself or through her friends or their families.

A big thank you to Amber for helping me to collate several of the stories I’ve been able to share.

Below Amber shares her journey.

What chose you to want to work with people with Down syndrome?

From around the age of five I knew that I wanted to have a job where I help and support individuals, I didn’t realise at that age that I would specialise in Down Syndrome I’d always thought it would be across-the-board.

Over the years I’ve had many jobs, including working at a law firm which I really enjoyed until I found that I could be doing more to help individuals rather than working 9-5 not achieving anything.

It sounds corny but I feel like the job I do now I was destined to do, I currently support individuals with learning disabilities whilst studying at university, as I hope soon to be a special needs teacher at a specialised primary school near me.

What have you learnt about working with people with Down syndrome?

This is a tricky question as there is not enough time in the world to possibly explain how much I’ve learnt. There are a lot of misconceptions surrounding adults with Down syndrome, like “Oh I bet the people you work with are dead loving” this is something that frustrates me as each individual has their own personality which cannot be dictated due to their learning disability. I have learnt that all of the adults I support and all of the adults that I count as my closest friends with Down syndrome all have their own amazing personalities they’re not given credit for the level of intelligence they have, sometimes when I’m upset Claire will call me and say some of the most inspiring words that just pick me up, which often makes me realise how much we take life for granted as most of these adults have some form of health condition yet you will never hear any of them moan about!

I sometimes get offended as I find that some of my closest friends have Down syndrome and many assume I support these individuals, so say if we go to the pub for a drink people look at me with a disappointed look, almost as if I were their terrible carer out on the razzle “you’re getting drunk on the job” which the girls actually notice people staring, but what’s funny is that the girls are all older than me by around 7 to 12 years and the misconception that they are very mentally young which is incorrect as I find that all individuals have tendencies to enjoy things from their childhood just like an adult with Down syndrome yet many a treat these adults like babies. One thing I can honestly say is that I have the best time with these individuals who society need to treat as individuals

How is what many perceive different to the reality for people with Down syndrome?

I find that many adults with Down syndrome get treated like babies which they themselves notice and tend to get upset by. Don’t get me wrong there are adults out there with Down syndrome that need extra support but isn’t that the same for adults that we class as ‘normal’ many parents that I know get cross with how their children are babied, as it can come across extremely patronising.

What would you like the world to know about people with Down syndrome?

The biggest thing that I’d like people to know is that adults with Down syndrome are capable of leading healthy, – what you would call ‘normal’ lifestyles if they have the correct support around them.

Over time I have met many different adults and I could be wrong but I have noticed many adults are a reflection of their family, so I know some individuals as the Down syndrome social scene is very tight knit that are not the best people what I would call a bit naughty sometimes then when you meet the families you see that the individual has either been spoilt and allowed to get away with bad behaviour or they have not had the support and encouragement to achieve what they want to therefore take part in negative behaviours in order to get attention. Whilst studying I found that many books are very scary to read as they make Down syndrome out to be tragedy “the end of the world” which that it is not I find that because most academic journals our extremely dated information is incorrect, as now in the 21st-century is a lot of promoting our adult independence, which I think is completely down to the individual and parent’s discretion whether the child needs an independent lifestyle.

I dedicate my words to Claire Ruth and Laura x

 

Amber x

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Down Syndrome Diaries | Misconceptions Within The Asian Community

I was tagged in Aditi’s Instagram page by Annie – a foodie blogger and was instantly captivated by her words. As you’ll see below, Aditi has a raw and candid way of writing – an unapologetic way of expressing herself with so much passion. It’s so refreshing to see an Asian talk so openly about Down Syndrome and the treatment in our society. Though on the whole the response hasn’t been bad, Aditi explores how they dealt and continue to deal with any toxicity – something I’m slowly learning to do through Saajan. He is my strength, he has given me that ability.

As I’ve mentioned in several posts, I feel that the Gurdwara and other places of worship could really play a pivotal role in assisting those with learning difficulties to learn basic life skills and also to give them a sense of responsibility – Kiran is an absolutely perfect example of this as Aditi explains.

Thank you Aditi for your open and honest words!

My name is Aditi and my little sister’s name is Kiran. She has Down Syndrome. Both of my parents were born and raised in Mumbai and my sister and I were both born and raised here in the US, about an hour and a half outside of Chicago, so we are first generation American. I was about 3 years old when my sister was born. My mother’s pregnancy did not feel any different with my sister than it did with me. The doctor offered my mom and parents the option to have an amniocentesis, which is the use of a hollow needle being inserted into the uterus to sample the amniotic fluid to screen for developmental abnormalities in the fetus. My parents opted out of having this done. My mom did not want to have this done and if for some reason there was something abnormal, she would be stressed out the rest of her pregnancy and felt it would effect the state of my sister in the womb. She knew either way she wanted her baby, no matter the circumstance.

After Kiran was born, the doctor suspected that she had Down Syndrome, but at that time (1991) they had to do a blood test which took a span of 2 months to be completed. My mom and dad also noticed the low muscle tone while holding her as well, and had suspected she might have Downs. Once the test came back, of course, they concluded that she did indeed have Down Syndrome. Thankfully she did not have any heart disorders or holes through her heart, which can sometimes be common amongst those with Downs. She did have a slightly imbalanced thyroid though, for which she has taken something to balance that her whole life. Other than that, super healthy.

As I mentioned above, my heritage is Indian. No one in our family, friends or community had anything negative to say to my parents regarding my sister, and I’m sure if they did, my parents would not go around someone with that type of mentality anyway. However my dad’s mother exclaimed when my sister was born, “A mad girl is born.” And used to call her ‘ghandi’ all the time. I am actually Kutch, but our family speaks in both the Kutchi and Gujarati languages. The word ‘ghandi’ in Gujarati means ‘no brain.’ So my grandma would call her that all the time. Anytime my little sister would try to hug her or go near her, she refused to hold her and as my sister got a few years older, my grandma would tell her she ‘was tired’ and wanted to go to sleep and to go away. There was an assumption on my grandma’s end that my sister was quite literally stupid and didn’t realize what she was doing.

Of course as we know, children and people with Downs are just as (if not more) smart and intuitive as us so my sister knew not to go near her. Our dad passed away when I was about 8 years old and when my sister was around 5, and after that my mom didn’t allow my dad’s mom in the house (go mom!) so my grandma moved (and stayed, thank god) back in India. We don’t speak to her for many reasons, her treatment of my mom and sister are just one of those reasons. Here’s the thing about toxicity: you need to cut it off immediately. Doesn’t matter who it is. And in my opinion and from the experiences I have been through in my life, blood is NOT thicker than water. If someone is being toxic and verbally or emotionally abusive, get them the hell out of your life. Not only was my dad’s mom verbally and emotionally abusive towards my sister, but she was towards my mother as well. The same goes for the whole ‘in-law’ thing. If you accept it as ‘normal’ or that people should just ‘deal with it,’ it will never change or get better.

Back to my sister: it gets talked about all the time that culture is a ‘reason’ for this type of negative behaviour towards someone with special needs. Well it might be a reason but it is certainly not an excuse. And this type of behaviour will only continue to persist if you ALLOW it to persist. If people and by extension, communities as a whole continue to allow this behaviour, that is basically saying that it is CONDONED. This must stop. The NOT tolerating of it has to start with the individual, as does any other type of change, because where else can we start but with ourselves?

So, after my sister was born, both of my parents said they would raise her just as they had started to raise me, so that’s exactly what they did. I used to ask my parents sometimes why my sister would get more attention than me, not because I was jealous but because I literally saw NO difference between myself and her: she was my sister and I loved her and that’s all I knew. My parents explained to me that she just needed a bit more help with things and took a bit longer to learn. At around 6 months old, a local centre for individuals with special needs (where my sister still goes today for classes and activities) came to start doing some therapy with her. They brought different toys which would help her, particularly gripping toys because as I mentioned above, people with Downs have lower muscle tone. Therapy continued for about 3 years, and then at around 3 1/2, to 4 years old Kiran started preschool. My parents noticed that she was incredibly observant, always looking around at her surroundings and analyzing things. She was quiet, curious, careful and meticulous in how she did things (and still is), playful, sassy, innocent, jovial and a very funny sense of humor that started to develop. At about 5 years old she started kindergarten and from then on, elementary, middle and high school.

In high school, there was an internship program for kids with special needs so she participated. She went to the local county city building and vacuumed as well as a local hospital and helped to fold towels. After she graduated high school, she started at YAS which stands for Young Adult Services and is basically a 4 year college program specifically for individual with special needs. Her last two years at that college included interning at Goodwill where she helped to organize and hang clothes. A few months after graduating from college, she started on a trial period at a local Laundromat, but it didn’t end up working out. My mom and some of her close friends started a Hindu Temple about 8 years ago, a few years before my sister graduated, so she started bringing my sister with her to the temple every evening and Kiran really enjoyed it. Since then, my sister goes with her every single evening! My mom gives my sister little jobs to do which she does like clockwork now: she makes sure the doors are unlocked for any visitors to come in, turns all bathroom lights on, makes sure all stalls have toilet paper and that the soap dispensers have soap. She makes sure people are always putting their shoes inside the closet before they go to pray and makes sure tables are clear and ready if anyone is having dinner there. People at my mom’s temple absolutely love her and look forward to seeing her smiling face and big hugs. Lots of people love to bring her gifts just because. I don’t know about you but I don’t have people surprising me with gifts all the time just because. Well, she is just THAT cool!

My sister has a great life, and for that I am so profoundly happy. She keeps busy every single day. She gets to take art classes three times a week at the same centre who has been working with her and our family since shortly after she was born. She participates in Special Olympics Baseball and Bowling. She is always meeting and making new friends. She loves to watch Pixar movies. She loves early 2000s TV shows (The OC and One Tree Hill in particular). She gives the best hugs. She expresses herself. She laughs. And if there’s one thing she doesn’t need, it’s anyone elses pity. She has just as much of an amazing life as anyone else. And that’s all we can ask for at the end of the day, isn’t it?

I can’t even put into words how profoundly grateful I am to have her as my sister. I wish every single human could have the experience of someone close to them having special needs. I don’t like the word ‘normal.’ Never have and never will. Who decides what is normal? Who’s to say WE are not the ‘abnormal’ ones and they aren’t ‘normal?’ I also never liked the term of someone having ‘disabilities.’ Just because someone doesn’t have the same abilities as someone else doesn’t make them less than. These terms imply separation, not inclusion. One thing I know for certain is I would NOT be the same person I am today without having her as my sister. Her name is Kiran, which means ‘ray of light’ in Sanskrit. My parents definitely named her appropriately because that’s exactly what she is: our ray of light, sunshine, constant smiles and positivity. She has taught me how to be more patient, forgiving, kind, understanding, loving, innocent and playful. Any time a situation happens that is about to test my patience, I think, “How would my sister respond?” She is so content. Always laughing to herself, listening to music, dancing without a care in the world on where she is or who is watching. She openly expresses herself without the feeling of fear or judgment from others that most of us can’t seem to shake. She is super soft spoken (unlike me – I’m the loud sister), partially because that’s her personality and partially because people who have Downs tend to have different vocal cords than us, so they often times can’t speak as loudly. She’s funny, playful, and super sassy (guess where she got that from? lol). She’s my sidekick and teacher for life. What I did to deserve such a pure soul as my sister is beyond me. I am so grateful for the lessons and laughs every single day with her.

Thank you again for including me!

Aditi

X

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Down Syndrome Diaries | Expect the Unexpected … An Aunt’s Experience

I know in our journey, the boy’s aunties and uncles (Masis, Masar Ji, Pua Ji, Fufar Ji, Chacha Ji) have played a pivotal role in both Saajan’s journey but also ours. Through their love and acceptance, ours has also grown. They’re there to remind us of how worthy Saajan is. I’m not going to sugarcoat the fact that in the early days, I had moments of rejection. If it wasn’t for our family, I don’t know what we have done. The grandparents are our hugest pillar of support – their unwavering faith, wisdom and attitude has helped us plough through and we have come out so much stronger. We are truly blessed to have the greatest family support network.

Claire was born with Down Syndrome 31 years ago – a time where things were considerably backwards and children with Down Syndrome were viewed as a burden and as though they should be institutionalised.

Below, Claire’s auntie, Diane, who also plays a very large part in Claire’s life shares her experience of being an aunt to a niece with Down Syndrome and the response they received.

When Claire was first born, I didn’t know much prior – my friend had a baby who passed 12 months earlier at 6 months. My friend was sent home from hospital, hadn’t done any checks on the baby, the baby was born with extreme floppiness and his tongue was always out, by this time he had hole in his heart which was undiagnosed and he sadly passed. So when Claire was born I was petrified that that would happen to her.

They always said that you could tell the severity by the features which we could not really tell with Claire.

Claire failed to thrive in the early days as her mother, Sue, was in pure shock and she never took a bottle. Sue struggled to even push the pram due to shock.

Therapists said to leave toys around Claire at 6 months so she could reach for them so she could learn if she wanted something so she would go for it. Sue were very firm with us all treating Claire normal.

My dad was good with her, my parents worshipped Claire – my dad on his deathbed said “I’m proud of that one (Claire) they said she wouldn’t walk or talk”.

Back then, people did stare at Claire – I remember one time when Sue was in the park with Claire and one mother pulled their child away and Sue said “it’s not contagious”.

The good thing is that Claire changed us all – none of us knew what would come from Claire she has amazed us all, children never seem to care.

I’m most proud of how Claire has grown into a smart young woman which we never thought she would, She helps everybody and would give her last penny to anybody.

 

 

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Down Syndrome Diaries | Our Journey … Through My Sister’s Lens

Where I’m currently struggling to find the words (over a year later!) to articulate my feelings and emotions from the day we received Saajan’s diagnosis, my sister is a lot more articulate as an outsider to the immediate situation. The boys are incredibly close to both sides of the family and without our families I’m not sure how we would have coped with everything. We are so grateful and blessed to have an immediate tight knit family that sees no different where it comes to Saajan’s Down Syndrome diagnosis – if anything, everyone finds that his extra chromosome makes him that little bit extra cute!

I don’t thank the family enough, especially my sisters who are literally my pillars of support, I guess it’s because I don’t feel that the words “thank you” do my gratitude any justice. I hope one day I’m given the opportunity to do for them, even half of what they’ve done for me!

They slept close by in the initial days, held my hand and did whatever they could to be there for me – even when they felt helpless. During Saajan’s open heart surgery, they kept us going, reminded us to eat, reminded us of the end goal. For Goov – I felt so much guilt as I knew her engagement was just a few weeks away, she should have been celebrating and walking on air to the build up of the most special time of her life – instead she was sat with us, praying, hoping and distracting us. I was so desperate to celebrate with her but I was too terrified to see past his surgery as I was so fearful that Saajan wouldn’t make it. To think, just a few weeks after his surgery, we were there with her is something that felt so far out of my reach when we were in the situation. I sometimes can’t believe what we’ve been through as a family.

Below, my sister Goov shares our journey through her own lens. I’m so honoured that she took time out to document the journey – it’s so interesting to read it from someone that was around to remind me of how things went down …

Saajan. Generally the name is known to mean “friend”. Couldn’t really be a more apt name for the little guy really, he is the happiest baby I’ve ever met. The day we were blessed with his arrival, we were babysitting Arjun as Harps had to go into hospital. He was SO excited to meet his baby brother, we were itching to get him to the hospital to meet the newest addition to his wonderful little family. When Preetam sent us a photo, we squealed with excitement – he looked just like Arjun when he was born but with the chubbiest cutest cheeks. My mum and dad were beaming with pride, wanting to see if Harps was okay and had got through the C-section better than she did the first time! Touch wood, all was well! Everything felt calmer and more relaxed compared to enduring the endless hours of her 84 hour labour when Arj was born. Arj wanted to get a present for his new brother so en route to the hospital, me and my twin Harv took him to Toys R Us (may I just add that I’m really happy that Arj was still part of a generation that got to experience running around like a hooligan at this store? I feel like it is a rite of passage as a child living near the huge superstore in Hayes!). After running around like hooligans, identifying a cute baby blue cuddly giraffe as the perfect baby brother gift, we rushed off to the hospital.

There’s nothing like meeting a newborn baby – such purity; such a contrast to the nerves I feel about holding such a dinky little human! Fear of dropping him, fear of making him cry, fear of just not doing it right. Having said this I feel like I became quite the pro when Arj was born so this time, I was much less scared and far more…”give me him I want to hug him and squish him!” He was absolutely adorable and so diddy compared to his big bro who was so sweet when he first met Saaj – “he’s so cute” he said *heart melts*. After a little while of getting to know our little man, changing a nappy or two and him having a good feed, Preetam went to grab a bite to eat with Harv and Arj whilst I stayed with Harps and Saaj. Harps looked amazing – especially compared to the last time, she looked sooo happy it was so lovely to see. She was telling us she felt complete and whole with her boys. In the evening, a lovely consultant came along. She was giving him the once over and then asked where baby’s daddy was. She asssured us that there was nothing to worry about but wanted him to come back, so we called Preetam. I left the room when he arrived. Myself and Harv waited outside of the ward. From that moment on, things seem a bit of a blur in my mind. I don’t know what to tell you other than Preetam came bursting through the doors, crying with Arj in his arms. He popped Arj into my lap and we were just in that heart-sinking-panic-stricken state of “what the hell is going on!????” Preetam ran back into the ward. Arj was obviously startled by what was going on around him but we quickly distracted him with our phones (gotta do what you gotta do). At this point I can’t even remember if Preetam told us or if Harv did (she had gone in to see if everything was okay because we were so worried, then she came out and could have told me through floods of tears) but within the next 5 minutes, I found out that Saajan had Down Syndrome. I’m not just saying this for the sake of it or because I feel I have to but of course I was so shocked by the news, I just did not feel sad about it. Not immediately. It was just a matter of…okay. Down Syndrome. I need to learn more.

I then went to see Harps and Preetam. Harps was crying whilst cradling Saajan – not the woman I’d seen earlier absolutely glowing. Seeing Preetam was the hardest. My dad, Preetam, Eamun – all the guys in our family are the calm ones that tell us to never panic, think logically, whatever happens, happens – quite the stoics. This time, Preetam was not himself. He was broken. Blaming himself. Questioning himself. Harps was comforting him. Because I’d always seen him being the strong one, it was surreal to see the roles reversed. I think it was at this point that I felt such sadness. Saajan lay there, as peaceful as ever. And the people that had brought him into this world were in shock and felt like their own world was going to fall apart. When you’ve been told that you had a 1 in 100,000 chance of having a child with a disability, some sort of developmental delay, some sort of societally-accepted idea of “abnormal”, it’s any wonder they reacted the way they did. It is just not what they had expected for their family or their life. To their dismay, they were also told at the same time that Saajan had to be taken down to NICU because his blood was too thick and needed to be thinned and monitored. His temperature was also too low. Looking back now, that was so unbelievably hard to see. To watch unfold. To see the little guy wired up. Now, it almost feels miniscule compared to what he had to go through 5 months later. I tear up as I write this because he was so amazing throughout. He was this living reminder that no problem is too big. That everything is going to be fine. That they can live a normal life – after a diagnosis of Down’s syndrome, after major open heart surgery.

I remember calling my now husband, Eamun, on the way home from the hospital and suddenly had tears streaming down my face. I remember saying, it’s not because he has Down’s. It was because they were so sad. It’s because they needed to be uplifted. It’s because they needed to be shown that their life was going to be just fine – maybe not without it’s own hurdles – but that the whole family were there with them through whatever was to come. One NYE 2016, I stayed with Harps at the hospital and watched the London skyline in the distance light up from the hospital ward window – not the most glam of NYE’s but one I’ll remember forever. Harps was in bed and was just not interested, total apathy. Where I thought we were safe from the dark clouds of postnatal depression, it was just revving itself up to come forward in full force. We’d just been to see Saaj downstairs in NICU to wish him goodnight and check all was well. The midwives in that unit were incredible. My heart could not withstand seeing those teeny tiny babies completely entwined in wires and cooped up in their incubators. Harps cuddled Saaj so closely, she asked how on earth we’d be doing my wedding the following September now, would he be able to walk? Would he be involved? What are we going to do? – such crazy thoughts given how amazingly well and involved the boys were at the wedding, doing their Masi so proud!!

I remember going back to work a few days later and having left before annual leave so excited that my nephew might be born over New Year’s, everyone asked how the birth went and if mummy and baby were okay. I remember saying “everything is fine, baby was born with Down’s”. The reaction of so many started like this – the look of oh gosh okay, not really sure what to say, not really sure what that means but congratulations!! Pretty much how a lot of people would naturally react and there was nothing wrong with that (I’m extremely fortunate that I work in such an amazing team who were a massive pillar of support in the last year!). But that was the first time I cried in front of people. Receiving that reaction was going to take some getting used to. And to be fair for a while it bloody irritated me (by no fault of anyone else)! My friends were quick to remind me that its human nature and I’d probably react that way if I was in their shoes.

Once Harps and Saaj came home, I spent a lot of time googling, researching like we all did, even my parents who are surprisingly tech-savvy for their generation! I purchased an e-book that had raving reviews – Bloom by Kelle Hampton. It detailed her journey when her daughter was born unexpectedly with their extra chromosome. I spent most of those first few weeks, reading, highlighting, screenshotting – sending to Harps and Preetam. To be honest I think it fell on deaf ears. But both agreed that they resonated with some of the sentiments in that book. I, as an aunty, masi, resonated with the book at the points where she described how her family felt. The next best thing that happened was stumbling on Sarah’s website – don’tbesorry.net. She was real, raw and to the point and was exactly what we all needed to see and read about. Her son, Oscar, was the perfect example of how there was no place for misconceptions about Down’s and that actually, as a parent, it’s what you make of it. As time has passed by, I truly believe the whole purpose of Harps ever starting this blog – even though she’d done it for nearly 2 years before Saajan’s arrival – was this. To spread awareness. To be one of the voices in our community (that being the occasionally judgey Asian one). To do good in the world for this. Several people have said the same to me recently without me even saying it myself! It’s even more apt that the way they told the world about their news was through Preetam, who always shies away from the world of social media, through the blog. It was making a bold statement and to this day I feel so proud of them for embracing it as they have. Even if it’s been slow and steady. From my point of view of how things have been, there have been bad days and very bad days. I think now there are definitely more good days. Predominantly good.

Saajan is now 1 and almost 3 months. He is flourishing in so many ways. His adorable personality is so infectious. I often find myself scrolling through all the pictures I have of him and oohing and awwing every time as if it’s the first time I ever saw the picture! His smile, my word, his smile!!!!! He’s developing at his own rate and no one is judging. We are just celebrating each milestone as it comes and appreciating things in a totally different way to before. In my eyes, the future can only be bright for Saaj. His parents are so ambitious; it’s inevitable that he will inherit that! I just want him to be healthy. I want him to be happy. I want him to have goals and know there’s nothing that can stop him from achieving them. Guess what? I just want what any normal human being wants for a child that they love! It doesn’t matter that he has Down’s. To us, he is just Saajan.

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Down Syndrome Diaries | Loving A Miracle

What a family – there are literally no words to describe the love and warmth that oozes from this family. The loving and giving nature that sees through a pure lens, they see no different. A story of an expected diagnosis which opened up a whole new world and led them down a blissful path of adoption – a path that never would have existed had they not given birth to Bree. I wish more people like the Coxes existed.

Below, Kecia shares their journey.

We are the Cox family. Kecia and Kris, our children Kyra (15) Adrie (12) Bree (10) Mia (10) Claire (5) Livvy (5) and Noah (2). Our story started out as many do, we met in college, got married, graduated from college and started a family. It was when our 3rd daughter was born that our story took a different turn then what we had envisioned.

I was 27, young and healthy, I was not “at risk” for having a baby with down syndrome so this wasn’t supposed to be “my” story, it was supposed to be “someone else’s story”.

When Bree was born via c section I only got to see her cute round face briefly before they whisked her away. My baby was taken to the nursery for oxygen and I was taken to recovery only to watch as doctors and nurses whispered in the hallway…..the news was finally delivered…..”We think your baby has Down Syndrome”.

My first reaction came with intense fear and I prayed they were wrong. At first I only thought of the future and how my world as I knew it was crashing down around me. I spent the first 24 hours of Bree’s life in tears, without her in my arms…and the moment I was finally allowed to see her in the nursery was the moment that changed me forever. The moment that started a chapter of my story I may never have written, but that I ABSOLUTELY needed to be in MY story.

As she wrapped her tiny fingers around mine, I knew it was all going to be ok. This new world we had just stepped into was going to be ok. As I held her tiny hand I knew that she held hands with God and that walking by her side in this life was a blessing, not a burden.

I knew from the very beginning that Bree was going to change my life, but what I didn’t know was just how many other lives she would also change.

We had no idea when we started our path with this little miracle that because of her and her extra chromosome, because of her influence in our lives, because of the way she loved, and in turn taught us to love, we would travel around the world to a foreign country to rescue a little 4.5 year old girl (Mia) from an orphanage and the fate of dying in an institution, and then 5 years after that, after miraculously having twin girls, we would travel across the world again to scoop up a tiny baby boy (Noah), who also was destined for the same fate, and bring him home to our family. Three of our seven children carry that same extra chromosome but just like each of our children, special needs or not, they are each their own miracle, leaving their own mark on the world as they teach us all what matters most….love.

Through the course of our family’s story we have witnessed love making miracles.

We have witnessed tears of fear and sadness for the life we thought we were losing because of special needs, transform into tears of joy and gratitude for the unexpected miracles of this journey.

Down syndrome changed us in ways we will forever be grateful for. We may spend all our days teaching and caring for Bree, Mia, and Noah, but when all is said and done, the things we give them won’t hold a candle to what they will have given us.

 

For World Down Syndrome Day 2018, I’ll be sharing 21 different stories to raise awareness! If you loved this story, you may love the others, you can find them here.

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Down Syndrome Diaries | My Wish for Society

Though Kam may have had moments of heartache like most of us that have had an unexpected diagnosis, her faith has remained unwaivered. Her gentle mannerism and faith has led them on a beautiful journey of acceptance. Their gorgeous little boy Sehaj Singh radiates the same energy as his mama. Kam often reminds me to be patient, that there is no rush and that all Saajan needs is love.


One of the difficulties they too have faced is society’s ignorance and the sympathetic glares. Raising awareness amongst the Asian community is something I hope we can achieve together. Down Syndrome is sometimes viewed as a condition which impairs a human to achieve anything – the reality is far from it. However in order to succeed, they need to be given a chance. How much opportunity resides in places like the Gurdwara to be able to offer individuals with learning difficulties these chances? So much! But what support is there? Little.

We hope sharing Saajan’s journey and Sehaj as well as all the other stories we’ve shared here, open’s society’s eyes. Share these stories with your parents, your grandparents, your aunties and uncles and help us to raise awareness and thrash stereotypes!

Below, Kam shares their journey …

Sehaj Singh entered our lives on 3rd December 2014 late afternoon. The midwife placed him on me and the first thing I noticed about my gorgeous newborn was his eyes…the midwives then whisked him away for weighing. When I asked to hold my newborn again, I was requested to wait as they had a suspicion he had Trisomy 21. My husband and I just looked at each other, call it our lack of awareness or even our ignorance, we didn’t even know what Trisomy 21 was, and so our journey into Downs Syndrome began…

“Worrying does not take away tomorrow’s troubles, it takes away today’s peace”.

Fast forward to today, March 2018, and life is beautiful. However clichè that that may sound, life truly is, and we have found ‘acceptance’ to play a big role in making our life so beautiful. Acceptance and our faith in the Almighty. “Parenthood is about raising and celebrating the child you have, not the child you thought you’d have. It’s about understanding your child is exactly the person they are supposed to be. And, if you’re lucky, they might be the teacher who turns you into the person you’re supposed to be”.

Sehaj Singh was a newborn that needed love, care, patience and nurturing, just as any other typically developing child, Sehaj Singh had needs that were no different to other newborn’s needs. Yes, as he grows, there are certain features and traits that set him aside from other children, but that just adds to Sehaj Singh’s uniqueness and quirkiness. With continuous and unwavering love, care, patience and nurturing, Sehaj Singh will be exactly who he is meant to be. “A child is like a butterfly in the wind. Some can fly higher than others, but each one flies the best it can. Why compare one against the other? Each one is different. Each one is special. Each one is beautiful”.

I just wish, and live in the hope, that we can change our community’s view of children with disabilities and/or developmental delays. A disability is nothing to be sorry about, there is no need to give sympathetic glances our way, if you have a question, simply ask us. Please don’t make assumptions about how you think our life may be with a child who has Down’s Syndrome. It really isn’t as bad as you may think, actually, it isn’t bad at all! Sehaj Singh is our beautiful blessing in disguise and I wish you all could get to know him before you make any assumptions. Sehaj Singh is exactly how he should be, he was sent to us in his most perfect form, it’s our communities warped view of ‘perfection’ that may stop people from initially seeing that. “You don’t know what you don’t know, until you know it”

Sehaj Singh attends nursery five days a week, every afternoon and he loves it! We have been told Sehaj Singh is generous in showering his peers and adults alike with his warm and loving hugs and kisses whenever he sees them! Sehaj Singh is an extremely affectionate, caring and loving little man. “Love breeds love”.

Clearly evident for all to see is that Sehaj Singh has accumulated a few hobbies in his short 3 years thus far! He loves music, playing the tabla (indian drums), harmonium, visiting the Gurdwara (Sikh Temple), reading, painting, swimming, singing, dancing and playing with his favourite cars, his iPad (!), his keyboard and mike and having his picture taken are to name a few! Very typical don’t you think? Oh, and let’s not forget his epic tantrums!!!

“Parenting…strip it down and what do you really have? A relationship with a unique little person God entrusted to you to nurture, love and raise”.

God Bless!x

 

For World Down Syndrome Day 2018, I’ll be sharing 21 different stories to raise awareness! If you loved this story, you may love the others, you can find them here.

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Down Syndrome Diaries | A Surprise Diagnosis … 30 Years Ago

Sue gave birth to Claire in a totally different generation to now. 31 years ago, children with Down Syndrome were sent to mental institutions and were shunned by society. Thankfully, this is now mostly an outdated view of Down Syndrome and it is a lot more accepted.

I’m so grateful that Saajan was born in this day and age as I can’t imagine coping with the dark thoughts and feeling that I did when we received the diagnosis – similar to those that Sue describes below, along with dealing with such a negative response – it’s enough to tip anyone over the edge.

Sue has does amazingly raising Claire to be a strong woman despite raising her during a time where there was so much stigma attached to having a child with Down Syndrome – Claire is so proud of who she is and that I really do believe is a credit to her upbringing.

Years on, although things are very different today, and the support and early intervention available is amazing, the raw emotions you often feel when you are given a diagnosis are still very much the same.

Sue shares her story below …

I’d had a c section, and they’d taken Claire and put her in a room – they explained it was too cold in the room I was in. I had no idea what was gong to unfold.

I’d had a brilliant pregnancy but just before she was born, I had reduced movement and it appeared she wasn’t feeding off the placenta well. On new years eve, I was scanned for a heartbeat, I had a caesarean two days later and I suspect they knew something wasn’t right.

I’d asked to see the baby (the nurse hadn’t realised that they weren’t supposed to allow me to just yet) – as soon as I saw Claire, I knew something was wrong as previous to this I had known about Down syndrome as my sister’s friend had had a baby with Down syndrome – her baby had had a deep impact on me as the baby passed at 5-6 months from complications.

As Claire’s dad was about to leave the hospital, I heard a nurse say “Mr Dutton, the doctor wants a word with you”, I was wracked with fear, what could be going on? My baby was 8 pound 8, I’d had a brilliant pregnancy. After Mr Dutton came back in they wanted to talk to both of us. Everybody was pushed out of the visiting area. Dr Hill, a very old doctor, then drew the curtains around us and I said “she’s disabled isn’t she” I went hysterical it was ridiculous when I look back I said “I can’t do this”. The doctor said to me these are very loving children and I said but my son is loving?

I took Claire’s diagnosis really bad.

My dad was my rock – he was absolutely fine about the diagnosis. He was always there for any of us but he was brilliant from when he first came to see Claire.

My mum on the other hand kept putting her make up on to mask her feelings – she could not take it. “Mongrel” kept popping up in her head – this is how children with Down syndrome were viewed in those days. My mum couldn’t see anything wrong with Claire which was denial.

I was also told that Claire’s heart was enlarged and that she could have heart failure at any point. I went into self-preservation when I found out her heart was enlarged they told me she might not ever walk or talk. I was in hospital for 10 day’s which in those days was odd as you were in and out.

The hospital that Claire was born at was next to Marston Green hospital which was known as ‘the nut house’ where anybody that had a disability was sent. Anyone with mental health issues were put in there. That stuck in my mind – I did not want my baby to be there.

We were my dad’s girls – we were his life – my sisters and my mum. I wanted the same for Claire -I would not allow her to be mollycoddled, I wouldn’t let her be babied, everything was black and white. I had to learn myself I couldn’t allow myself to have a grey area it took me to two and half years until I realised I couldn’t be without her.

Before her second birthday she had heart surgery where I knew it was life or death, heart surgery on the Thursday she was coming home on the Tuesday. Back then, this was pioneering surgery, she started getting abscess after the surgery – it was her body rejecting the foreign object. Very quickly I took her into hospital where they cleaned it all out and sent her out.

She still was not right after but the doctor refused to come out on the Sunday night – I could tell something was wrong she had a temp of 103. I stripped her down gave her calpol and the doctor said she had a chest infection. I took both my kids on the bus and travelled miles to pick up to the prescription. I was then told to take her to hospital. Once at the hospital the doctor looked at Claire then he went away.

They eventually found that she was allergic to the dressing that they had covered her wounds in. The next thing I knew, she had an infection which could get in to her blood.

I explained I needed to call my dad to take my son. By the time I got back from making a call to my dad they whisked Claire away there was a group of doctors waiting for her. I was crying my heart out, I thought she was going to die. She bounced back quickly. If she hadn’t of had her heart surgery she would have died before her third birthday.

Life is harder as her dad passed last year so I have no respite as Claire now has a lot of anxiety as a result of her dad’s death. She has become fearful of leaving me.

 

I am so proud of Claire and the wonderful caring lady she has become. She is so supportive of those with learning disabilities, she is willing to help anyone. Now considering this is the baby that I was told would not talk or walk, I’m so proud. I also love the relationship that Claire shares with her brother Michael – it is so strong! There is no disability between them they treat each other like brother and sister they play each other up terribly.

For World Down Syndrome Day 2018, I’ll be sharing 21 different stories to raise awareness! If you loved this story, you may love the others, you can find them here.