Journey

Spring 1984—Mom watched Randy after school until his parents got off work. The bus would drop him off at our little townhouse where he would spend the next few hours. Randy was a teenager with dark hair and a heavy build. Randy loved to eat the food Mom fixed for him. One day on his third helping of a dish he particularly enjoyed, he was curious to know the ingredients. When Mom mentioned “peanut butter” his eyes grew wide and much to Mom’s exasperation he exclaimed, “I can’t eat anymore. I don’t like peanut butter!”

One of Randy’s favorite pastimes when he visited us was to look through Mom’s jewelry box. She would set it out for him, and one by one he would study each piece with great care and wonder.

Randy was my buddy. Though he was sixteen and I was barely two we had a wonderful time together. I would sit on his lap and we would count together…one, two, three…Randy had a hard time getting past three, but it didn’t seem to bother him when I would count up to ten. It didn’t bother me either. Randy was my friend, and I looked up to him because he was older than me. I didn’t know that Randy had Down syndrome; I didn’t even know what Down syndrome was. I knew that Randy was nice and fun, and I loved it when he came over to play…I have no personal memories of Randy; they were lost somewhere back in the early years of childhood. I remember Mom’s stories, though, and I remember a snapshot of me sitting in my friend’s lap, an unlikely but happy duo.  

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1995—Michael’s family only attended our church for a few years. His parents were an older couple who could have just as easily passed as his grandparents. Michael was just a little boy, old enough to walk but not yet in school. I watched him in the nursery on occasion with some of the other children. As a young teen who loved children, I looked forward to nursery duty. My biggest memories of Michael are his big brown eyes and contagious smile. I knew Michael had Down syndrome but didn’t have any clear ideas about what that meant. I knew he was a bit slower than other children and looked a bit different than other children, but I just treated him like the other children. He was a little boy, and he was adorable.

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2000-2004—My college years. Emily worked in the cafeteria on campus. She was very short, and so I was surprised to learn she was actually a few years older than me. She worked hard, staying focused and task-oriented. If someone she was not acquainted with approached her, Emily would fold her arms, narrow her eyes and ask “Do I know you?” Emily loved the movie Grease. So much in fact, her family gave her a specially made “Pink Ladies” jacket, which she proudly sported around the campus.  Emily’s dad was a religion professor for the university. He was also very focused and task-oriented but fun, well-liked and respected by his students. Emily had her daddy wrapped around her little finger. One cell phone call from her would interrupt any class at any time. Sometimes she called just to say hi, but sometimes she called to let her daddy know her blood sugar was too high or too low, and he would drop everything to rush home and check on her. My knowledge of Down syndrome was still next to nothing. I knew I had heard somewhere that people with Down syndrome had shortened life spans, and I felt sad for the professor and his family, wondering how long they would have with Emily. My information was outdated at best.

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December 2008—We were in MN with my husband’s family for the holidays. I was just entering the second trimester of my first pregnancy, eager to show off the beginning of my “baby bump.” Shawn and I were ecstatic and knew I carried the perfect child inside of me. During a Christmas celebration with my father-in-law’s side of the family, I met Clint. Clint was my age and was the brother-in-law of one of Shawn’s cousins. He occasionally came along for family gatherings with the Hemmingers, though this was my first time to meet him. Shawn had become acquainted with Clint several years before at a graduation event. He remembered Clint’s name and was intentional to introduce us. Though his speech was difficult to understand, we tried to make friendly conversation with him. As the day carried on, though, I noticed that Clint stayed to the side and didn’t join much in conversations or activities. He stayed close to his young niece and nephew or sat by himself. Clint was very friendly and happy to talk if someone made the initiative, so I found myself building a puzzle on the floor with the kids and engaging with Clint. Obviously touched by the fact that my husband had remembered his name and shown him kindness at their first meeting and again that day, Clint went on and on about how nice Shawn was and how much he liked him. He told me about a bit about his group home and about his girlfriend, a topic he was very proud of! Though I’m sure I missed a lot of what he said due to his unclear speech, I was happy to have a chance to be a listening ear and show him kindness. I would not be entirely truthful, however, if I did not admit that I experienced some discomfort as well. I still knew so little about Down syndrome, and some of Clint’s behaviors and mannerisms were awkward to me. Though I wanted to show love to him, at times I would find myself looking for a way to excuse myself from further conversation, at least for awhile.

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March, 2009—Our prayer group was hosting a special speaker from out of town. The woman had her children with her, one of whom was an elementary school-aged girl with an extra chromosome. That night a testimony was given from a member of our group, who was a long time friend of the speaker, about how much she had experienced God’s love through this little girl’s affection. After the meeting the little girl came up to me, staring intently at my rounded belly. She stretched out her hand, touched me and exclaimed “Fat!” before walking away. She repeated this a second time before the night was complete. I laughed at her boldness and her innocence. However, seeing this little girl made me think of the blood test just a few months prior that indicated I had higher risk rate to have a child with Down syndrome. Not wanting the risks involved with an amniocentesis, we opted to have some specialized ultrasounds. The baby’s measurements appeared normal, and we were convinced the blood test had been a false-positive reading. I was so relieved.  

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May 2, 2009—The chapel at the university was packed and overflowing as people filled the seats for the upcoming graduation ceremony. Shawn was out of town for a few days, so I attended alone on behalf of both of us to see our friend receive his degree. Big, pregnant, and extremely uncomfortable, I wondered if anyone would recognize my plight and offer me a seat. I finally found favor next to some acquaintances from the university and settled my tired body into the cushioned seat. As I watched the crowd around me, I noticed Emily running up the steps of the chapel in the direction of the bathroom. Her father, wearing his official graduation attire, sat on the stage with the other professors and administrators, keeping a watchful eye on his daughter, even from a distance. I wondered what life had been like for him, his wife, and their other children. My mind wandered back to January, and the brief scare that our baby would have Down syndrome. I felt my son kick inside me, and felt relieved again that I hadn’t been asked to walk that road.

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May 22, 2009—Benjamin Lee Hemminger was born with an extra chromosome and numerous complications. I suddenly found myself thrust onto a road I didn’t want to walk, a road that appeared so dark and uncertain. Every step was shaky, and I had no sense of direction. The only thing that was certain was that this was my son, and I loved him no matter what.

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September 26, 2010—I have been on this road one year, four months, and four days. The darkness of those early days has lifted, though there are still many steps that feel uncertain. The incredible love and joy I have in my heart for my son gives me direction, though, and the love of my Heavenly Father steadies my steps. I am privileged to be Benjamin’s mother, and it is my delight to love him. As I have reminisced today, I realize that my journey with Benjamin began before I ever knew I was on a journey. Even as a two year old in Randy’s lap, the egg that would join my husband’s seed to conceive our beautiful son was within me. In a small way Benjamin was already a part of me and has always been a part of me. In His wisdom and sovereignty, God gave me opportunities throughout my early life to see individuals with Down syndrome, though I did not recognize the significance at the time. He knows every step of my journey, past, present, and future and lovingly gives me sign-posts along the way. It’s a journey I never expected, a journey I would not have requested, but it’s a journey I will cherish every day.