And So They Say, "It Takes A Village"

We have all heard the adage "it takes a village to raise a child." Maybe you have even read the book by Hillary Clinton with the same title. And while it is a general truth, I never imagined that a person would ever quote that proverb to me in reference to my own child. Yet, it was one of the most defining moments of my pregnancy with Mark.

We had just moved from the eastern shore of Maryland back to our hometown. I was six months pregnant walking into a new OB office to transition our care. I cannot blame her, the OB, when she came into the room seeming slightly frazzled being the initial provider to see me in all my high-risk pregnancy glory with half of my medical records missing (despite being assured by the previous office that my records had been sent). We talked about me, our diagnosis, our perinatologist and his current recommendations for monitoring. Then she asked a very appropriate question: "have you contacted any local support groups?" I told her the truth: no, I had not. And then it came, that blunt statement that rang in my ears for days: "well, you should. It takes a village to raise a child with Down syndrome." I'm pretty sure that I choked on the air. A village to raise my child? "Who does she think she is?" was my immediate thought. I remember leaving in a huff. I was angry. Angry and defensive. "We can do this all by ourselves, she doesn't know us at all," etc. I fumed for the next day or two, venting to everyone I could think of.

But when the haze of my anger subsided, I did what I try to do when I feel like I may have (slightly) overreacted: self-reflection. Why was I feeling so angry about her recommendation? I was angry because I knew that she was right. We could not do this alone. Not if we wanted to be the best parents that we could be. We needed a community, a group of people around us with intimate knowledge of what we were going through because the truth is that other people can try to sympathize and be compassionate, but the only people who really "get you" are the people who are living your reality. And that's the same with any group of people who share a similar life experience, set of values, religious or political ideology. Birds of a feather flock together, strength in numbers, and all those good old sayings.

And so, humbly, I contacted the local support group. It was not easy and it was scary, but we met a group of people who have become a lifeline for us. They understand us in an intimate way. The rollercoaster of emotions, the challenges of medical care, the choices about work and home life that need to be made when having a child with special needs.

We talk a lot about the people who support our kids developmentally - the doctors, therapists, educators, advocates. All very important. But I want to say to the people in my life who have been there for us in the trenches, guiding us along in our journey, that I am so very grateful for you. Grateful and blessed to know you, to be inspired by you, to be loved by you. Knowing you has made all of the difference in our journey, and I am thankful that we will be hand in hand watching the sunrise over all of the mountains that our families climb because we will be there to support each other for our children. Because we are a village.