Down Syndrome Appreciation

Originally published on Substack

It’s so easy, as a parent of a child with Down syndrome, to hate the genetic condition.

We watch our children work harder, push through more, and develop a kind of resilience most people will never fully understand. We watch them endure medical procedures before they’re old enough to understand why—test after test, blood drawn from teeny tiny veins, appointments stacked on top of appointments.

We see the looks.
The whispers.
The way other children stare, and the way adults throw around slurs without a second thought.

And yet.

As I was brainstorming new shirt designs for World Down Syndrome Day this year, a quiet thought arose.

Down syndrome appreciation.

Not awareness.
Not acceptance.
Appreciation.

That word stopped me.

It made me sit with my life. With the last six years. With the changes and revelations I never could have predicted when Logan was born. And while it’s still true, deep down inside, that if I could make his journey in this world easier, I would do it without hesitation… I can also say this:

I am so appreciative of what Down syndrome has brought into my life.

“Loving Logan has changed my world and I’m so grateful for all he has brought into my life. And he wouldn’t be him without Down syndrome.”

Loving someone with Down syndrome has opened my eyes to both the best and the worst parts of humanity. It has taught me what it actually means to accept people in a real way. To love someone exactly as they are, without trying to fix or reshape them into something more comfortable for the world.

It has made me more empathetic. Especially toward children. Toward how much we expect of them. How quickly we push them to perform, to behave, to comply, to “keep up,” when they’ve only been on this planet for such a short time. Loving Logan has slowed me down enough to see just how unreasonable many of those expectations are.

It has brought some amazing people into my life, people I would have never known otherwise, connected through shared experiences that don’t require explanation. People who understand without needing the backstory.

It has awakened a sense of purpose in me that I didn’t know I was missing. A pull to help create a kinder, more understanding future, not just for Logan, but for all people like him. A future where inclusion isn’t performative, and appreciation isn’t conditional.

And it has forced me to confront something uncomfortable but necessary: my own prejudice.

Before Logan, I didn’t think of myself as someone who held bias against people with intellectual disabilities. But fear and discomfort are sneaky things. They hide behind silence and avoidance. Even now, I’m still working through those feelings when it comes to strangers with intellectual and developmental disabilities. Loving my child has made that blind spot impossible to ignore and I’m better for having to face it.

Down syndrome has also shifted how I think about mental and physical health. About our daily habits. About what we prioritize and why. It’s made me question routines, social norms, events, gatherings, and the pressure to participate in things simply because they’re “what we do.” I find myself stripping life down to its essentials more often now, asking: Does this actually matter to us? Does this serve our family?

It’s changed how I see the education system, too. Its origins. Its limitations. Its glaring flaws, especially for children who don’t fit neatly into the boxes it was designed for. And it’s pushed me to imagine what change could look like if we were brave enough to rethink it.

It’s made me more aware of my own sensory differences. The things I learned to mask long before I had words for them. That awareness has given me more empathy for Logan, and has helped me release some of the pain I carried from growing up in a time when sensory processing wasn’t talked about or understood.

Most of all, it has required me to step up.

To advocate when it’s uncomfortable.
To speak when I would rather stay quiet.
To fight for what I believe is best for my child, even when it makes me the difficult one in the room.

Down syndrome has grown me, deeply and irrevocably. As a person. As a woman. As a mother. As an advocate.

So yes, we should raise awareness. That matters.

But I want to get to a place where we are appreciating people with Down syndrome for being exactly as they are - no strings attached. Because loving Logan has changed my world and I’m so grateful for all he has brought into my life. And he wouldn’t be him without Down syndrome.