Guest guest Posted January 8, 2005 Report Share Posted January 8, 2005 My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 Happy Birthday to Kellen from the Shipp family. What a beautiful letter. and and Kids Kellen's Birthday My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 Happy Birthday to Kellen from the Shipp family. What a beautiful letter. and and Kids Kellen's Birthday My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 Jodi, What a wonderful, beautiful, heartfelt letter!! I had to stop reading once because I couldn't see because of the tears! What a lucky guy Kellen is to have such a great mom. And what a lucky mom you are to have such a great son!! Happy, happy birthday Kellen!! Sue mom to Kate 15 and Karrie 8 w/ds and other issues .. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 Jodi, What a wonderful, beautiful, heartfelt letter!! I had to stop reading once because I couldn't see because of the tears! What a lucky guy Kellen is to have such a great mom. And what a lucky mom you are to have such a great son!! Happy, happy birthday Kellen!! Sue mom to Kate 15 and Karrie 8 w/ds and other issues .. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 Jodi, Happy Birthday to Kellen! What a beautiful letter you wrote, thank you so much for sharing it. It brought tears and smiles as I read it. Kellen sounds like a wonderful young man with a great sense of humor and a gift for making people smile. It sounds as if he's very much on his way to being able to lead a happy and independent lifestyle. Sounds like Mom and Dad have done a great job! Thank you again for sharing such a special letter. Jayne Mom to kyle, emma, and jackson (ds-asd 5 1/2) reimeroo@... wrote: My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 Jodi, Happy Birthday to Kellen! What a beautiful letter you wrote, thank you so much for sharing it. It brought tears and smiles as I read it. Kellen sounds like a wonderful young man with a great sense of humor and a gift for making people smile. It sounds as if he's very much on his way to being able to lead a happy and independent lifestyle. Sounds like Mom and Dad have done a great job! Thank you again for sharing such a special letter. Jayne Mom to kyle, emma, and jackson (ds-asd 5 1/2) reimeroo@... wrote: My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 What a wonderful expression of love. Thank you very much for sharing it. Sharon H. Mom to , (13, DS) and , (9) South Carolina Kellen's Birthday My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 What a wonderful expression of love. Thank you very much for sharing it. Sharon H. Mom to , (13, DS) and , (9) South Carolina Kellen's Birthday My son Kellen turned fourteen today : ) Since I didn't do an introduction, I thought I would post a letter I wrote to him last year on his 13th birthday. It was printed in our local Parent to Parent newsletter. Jodi ******************** A Letter to My Son on his 13th Birthday Dear Kellen, I am so glad that you are my son. Thirteen years ago when you were born, I could never have imagined you as a teenager. Your dad and I were so busy adjusting to the news of your extra chromosome, your heart defect, and your colon disorder. Babyhood was scary enough without trying to imagine how things would be when you were much older. As time went on and you met your medical challenges one by one, we did try to imagine the future. It was still scary, but as we talked to and met other parents of children with Down syndrome, a flicker of hope began to burn in us. We realized that if we worked hard, it was possible for you to have a good life. We've been through so many things together—open-heart surgery, learning to communicate, learning how to help you get your needs met. School stuff. Behavior challenges. The time that you were nearly hit by a car when we were on vacation. The two times that you escaped the house on your tricycle and I couldn't find you. Some kind person stopped their car, got you out of the road and called the police. I swear you have had angels protecting you. I am so glad that you have outgrown some of those things! You are growing up to be independent and responsible. Please be patient with me as I learn to let you experience the world without my protection. Have I ever told you how much I love the look of pride that you get when you accomplish something new on your own? It is kind of a half smile, kind of a smirk. Ever since you were a baby, you showed your emotions with your entire being. You didn't smile with just your mouth, but with your whole body. This look is no exception. You show your pride in yourself with the way you hold your head, the way you walk, the way you kind of look down with your eyes (with feigned humility) and that half-smile. Lately we've been practicing at Costco. When I am waiting in line to pay for our groceries, I give you two dollars and you head over to the snack bar. I watch from afar while you wait in line appropriately. Before I know it, you are heading back over to me with your hot dog, your pop and your beautiful " proud of yourself " smile. You are satisfied because you were able to articulate your order to a stranger and make yourself understood. Happy that you know how to operate the pop machine and put the lid on your drink. You are proud because you are doing such a grown-up thing all on your own. You even remember to give me the change back. I am proud because it is one more step towards independence, but I'm mostly proud because it means so much to you. When you were a baby I used to think about what life would be like when you grew out of your " cute stage " . Would people treat you harshly? Would people want to take the time to get to know you? Sometimes I thought it would be nice if you stayed small and adorable forever. One benefit of getting older that didn't cross my mind was how fun and fascinating it would be to see your gifts, talents and personality develop. Your sense of humor often takes me by surprise. Remember when your teenage sister was getting emotional about something or other and you said under your breath, “ Drama Queen� Or the time the whole house was in turmoil one morning before the school bus came and you went and put on your lifejacket. And one morning, after I had worked so hard helping you get ready for school, you disappeared into your bedroom. Two minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive I went to look for you. To my dismay, you were no longer in your school clothes, but in full pirate regalia. Even though there wasn’t any time to spare, I just had to stop and laugh so hard. I'll never forget the time last summer when you came to work with me. You sat at my desk with paper and pen as you had done many times before. Usually you scribbled or made rows and rows of letters. On this day, I raised my head from the work I was doing and looked over at your paper. To my amazement, you had not scribbled; you had sketched an incredible, detailed spider. I didn't have to ask you what you had drawn. I could look at those articulated hairy legs and see for myself. You surprised me so much. I didn't yet know you had artistic talent. It gave me so much hope and encouragement to see this emerge from you. We worked with you since you were a preschooler on learning to swim. When you were around five you had group swim lessons where you splashed a little girl and made her cry. Then you wore your turquoise swim ring for a few years. It was kind of like a tank top with an inner tube sewn inside. It worked great because you were able to be independent in the water and swim with us in the deep-end. When you outgrew that, we bought you a flotation belt to wear in the pool. Finally when you were eleven years old, something “clicked†and when we were on vacation in Anaheim, you learned that it was fun to hold your breath under water. You figured out how to paddle harder so that you could keep your chin up and not swallow so much water. It was so exciting that you were able to accomplish something that you had wanted to do for so long. What you’ve taught me is that when you are really interested in learning something, you find a way to learn it in your own time. When something is not important to you, we either need to find a way to peak your interest or let go of our expectations. You have taught me so much about letting go… Your Dad explained it like this: There are a few things that we thought you might be able to do by now. Things like riding a bike, conversing with us, verbally expressing your feelings, and reading more fluently. Instead of getting caught up in disappointment that you aren’t doing these things, he has learned to get a corrected “compass setting†by looking back to you. By bringing his bearing in line with you, he is able to celebrate what you “are†doing. Instead of mapping out your path, we join you on your journey. As I think about your future, I want so many things for you. I want you to work at a job you love, one that interests you and allows you to use your abilities. A work place where people know you and are glad to see you. I want you to have lots of people in your life who love you and are willing to invest themselves in your life. People who are willing to get involved. Friends and family who will include you in activities. Friends who will accept you and embrace you, idiosyncrasies and all. Mostly I want you to love your life. I want you to have things to look forward to—reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Is this too much to ask? Sometimes I wonder if it is. I hope and pray that it’s not. Kellen, I want you to know that I am so proud of you. I know your life is not easy. I know how many struggles you’ve had so far and I can’t even fathom how many more you still have to face. I’ve learned that I can’t take those away. As much as I’d like to protect you and shelter you and keep anyone from hurting you, it just isn’t possible. More importantly, if I were able to take all of your problems away, you wouldn’t be allowed to develop as a person. Part of being human is our struggles and how we overcome them. I want you to be strong and have faith in people. Believe that there are good people out there and once you find them, hold on to them. Always remember how much your dad and I love you. Remember that we are in your corner and that you can make a difference in the world by just being who you are. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 A very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! to you and many more!!! mom to Bridget 11 wife to in upstate SC Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 9, 2005 Report Share Posted January 9, 2005 A very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! to you and many more!!! mom to Bridget 11 wife to in upstate SC Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.