Friendship Doesn't Count Chromosomes: A Letter To My Dearest Friend, Jessica

I will never forget the day that I told my oldest and dearest friend, Jessica, that Mark would be born with Down syndrome. She was pregnant with her first child who was due to be born a few weeks before Mark. She had just found out that she was going to have a little girl. She was feeling great, loving pregnancy and truly glowing. I was on what felt like a downward spiraling roller coaster ride of fear and sadness, worrying that every little kick I felt might be the last and afraid of what the future might hold for us.

And when I told her those words, in her infinite optimism and compassion, she told me “it’s going to be okay.” And she was right, of course. But her outlook on all of this was not what impressed me the most, and I suspect that as an elementary school teacher with more experience and love for kids with special needs than I had ever been exposed to at that point she had a very realistic picture of how enriching being a parent of a child with Ds would be. No, what impressed me the most then and still to this day has been her unfailing love and support for me and my son during the very highs and lows of our pregnancy, the early months of Mark’s life, and, undoubtedly, during whatever trials may be to come in the future.

You see, I imagine how hard it might be watching your friend going through a difficult pregnancy, having frequent bad news or health scares all the while going through a very enjoyable pregnancy on your own without any obvious health or developmental concerns for your child. I imagine that could be really hard for some people. And while I am sure that it was hard for her to see me sad or afraid, she never left my side. She watched our daughter so that I could go to appointments. She called to check in and talk about new (sometimes scary) information we were getting. “It’s going to be okay.” Always the optimist. And always right.

And when her sweet little Harper was born, it only seems fitting that her new friend Mark would follow right behind on the very next day. And when they met for the first time, it was no surprise that they somehow were able to find each other’s hands to grasp. Just like Jessica grasped my hand when I needed her the most.

And while Mark may not be “typically developing,” I know that Mark and Harper will have a very typical friendship, because her mom has only ever seen how special every single child is; she has only ever seen the good in the people around her. And that’s what brings out the best in everyone who knows her, including me.

My dearest, Jessica. Thank you for only ever seeing the best in me. Thank you for only ever seeing Mark as a little boy, and never a boy with a diagnosis. Harper is so lucky to have you as her mom, and I know that these two friends will be bringing out the best in each other for all of their days.