Being Chuck

On March 21, 2005, Riley Noelle Stroup, our first child, was born in the normal morning hours.

When I say normal morning hours, I mean that time when most people are not only awake, but functioning at a reasonable capacity.

However, to arrive at the hospital and have Riley at “normal morning hours,” it was necessary for us to awaken at not normal morning hours, but that is neither here nor there… I digress.

Riley was born, and shortly thereafter we knew for a fact that she had Down Syndrome. This wasn’t a terrible shock to either of us for a couple of reasons***, but it wasn’t “run-of-the-mill” type news either.

***1. Tara grew up with a cousin that has Down Syndrome, and I went to school with a girl named Sarah who also had Down Syndrome. We had a limited understanding of what was and what would be.

***2. I had felt since high school that I would have a child with Down Syndrome or something similar, and told Tara so before we were engaged.

This didn’t alter our feelings about our daughter. She was here and healthy, and that was enough for us.

As time went on, Riley’s delay (the amount of time she tends to be behind her peers in learning/skills) has always been slight, but it is there and more noticeable at times. She spoke and walked a little later than most of her friends, and some of her motor skills aren’t as developed, but we have been tremendously blessed that she is interested in progress (and also are blessed by having people around us who encouraged us to keep pushing her). Riley is never coddled or treated any differently than her brother.

We always kind of had a running bet (no pun intended) as to who would actually run first. Lincoln is about two and a half years behind Riley. She took a long time to jump, and just as long to actually run, so we were always curious if Lincoln would run first. We always kind of wondered at what point Lincoln would begin to pass Riley in some respects. [Side note: Riley ran first, but he is currently almost as fast.]

…

It’s funny. You can know something is going to happen, you can even know approximately when, but it still catches you off guard.

Today, Tara was at a women’s event at church, and I had the kids. So we ran a few errands and then stopped for lunch at “Burger-Fries!” [Translation: McDonald's]

Daddy forgot to bring their cups, so we used the juice boxes. But that means I had to hold the juice box each time they drank. I mean, seriously… who designed juice boxes?

Hey let’s make a cardboard box to hold juice and a little hole for the straw!

A good idea, but any kid who holds one and doesn’t have the gentlest of grasps, immediately ends up with juice everywhere. But again, I digress.

So the kids have to ask me each time they was a drink.

Lincoln (who by the way, isn’t two yet) looks at me and says, “I want a drink.” Clear as a bell. [No, I don't know why bells are the definition of audible clarity.]

And I replied, “Um, how are you supposed to ask?”

And Lincoln retorted, “I want a drink, please.”

Now, anyone who has children close in age can tell you, when one gets something, it’s difficult at best to give anything to one and not the other. So, of course, Riley needed a drink too.

“I want drink!”

So again, I replied, “How are you supposed to ask?”

And she retorted in kind, “Drink please.”

It’s small, and most wouldn’t have even noticed, but I did. I asked her to say the whole phrase and repeated it for her. But “drink please” was it. This was the first time I noticed a marked difference. Lincoln has already begun to pass Riley.

…

It’s not easy for me. (Selfish, I know…)

I knew Lincoln would catch and pass Riley in most respects, but I still wasn’t ready.

I almost feel silly even bringing it up, but I wanted to process it… so I write. I guess I just didn’t expect it so soon.

When you have a child with Down Syndrome, you get used to the pace. It’s leisurely. Things happen when they happen. We encourage and push, but she does things in her own time. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

But when we had Lincoln, holy crap! The pace seemed ridiculously quick. There were times when Tara and I would look at each other in amazement, “Oh, he’s doing that already?”

I’m amazed though, at the timing of things.

I’m fairly sure God knew I wouldn’t be able to handle having a Down Syndrome child second. It’s not easy having one first.

That’s not a pity statement. It is what it is.

I’m not really sure where I expected this post to go, but I learn so much from my kids everyday. It funny how God uses the people around us (including our families) to teach us. I more clearly everyday how much He loves me through the way I love my own kids.