For most of my life, I’d been surrounded by girls my wife, our two daughters, and even the family dog. Then came the news I’d been waiting for: our third child would be a boy. I pictured the two of us tossing a ball in the yard, going on fishing trips, cheering together at games, and sharing the kind of father-son bond I had always wanted. I imagined him carrying my name and, maybe one day, becoming a star athlete.
Courtesy of Beau Brooks
The day of his birth, I felt ready to meet the son from all my daydreams. I heard his first cries, but the nurse stated something about his “tone” being off and took him for further checks. I didn’t understand what that meant, though I was a little anxious. My mother, after seeing him briefly, asked if he might have Down syndrome. The idea had never crossed my mind, so I brushed it aside.
Courtesy of Beau Brooks
Not long after, the doctor entered with a serious look and confirmed it our son did have Down syndrome. My heart sank I felt an instant waves of sadness. In that moment, all the visions I had for his future seemed to fade. I thought about how hard life might be for him and for us. I felt shock, anger, sadness, and guilt all tangled together. For hours, I couldn’t bring myself to hold him.
Courtesy of Beau Brooks
Later that day, a friend who had a child with Down syndrome reached out. He told me I had to grieve the image of the child I had imagined before I could truly embrace the one I had been given. It was the permission I didn’t know I needed to feel my emotions, process them, and then move forward.
Courtesy of Beau Brooks
Channing Candies Photography
That night, I returned to the hospital with a new mindset all the way I was thinking. Then I walk in the room where my son was then I picked up my son for the first time and realized something important he was still mine. Life would look different, yes, but it would still be rich with love, laughter, and moments worth cherishing.
Joan Delatte Photography
Courtesy of Beau Brooks
Since then, Spencer has given me more than I could have ever given him. He’s deepened my patience, strengthened my compassion, and taught me what truly matters. He’s turned hard days into good ones just by being himself. He is not defined by a diagnosis he is my son, my pride, and my joy. And I will always be there for him, cheering him on in every step of his journey.
