In honor of Down Syndrome Awareness Month, I want to share about one of my special role-models, Mrs. Cordelia Conn, through a letter I’ve written countless times to her in my head:
Dear Mrs. Cordelia,
You had no idea, but you were one of the early pioneers and advocates for people with Down syndrome and a personal role model for me. And you did it simply by being the best mom you could be to Patrick.
When I was younger, I always admired you. You had a confidence about you that even a young girl like me could pick up on. You had the sense of humor that was essential in being a mother of seven. There was a genuineness and openness about you that just felt safe. You told it like it was without a cloud of anger or judgment hanging over your statements.
What I remember most, though, was how you were with Patrick. How you acted like he was a normal human being that belonged anywhere he wanted to be and especially belonged wherever you were – church, parties, Boomland, etc. You didn’t try to hide that he had Down syndrome, and you didn’t emphasize it, either. You made it clear that Patrick was not a person to be pitied or coddled. You had expectations of him and didn’t make excuses for him when he did or said something you didn’t approve of. Most importantly, you treated him with respect and love, and I saw that.
Neither one of us knew it yet, but God did. He knew that I needed a role-model to look to when I had my own son with Down syndrome. He knew that I needed more than to just know Patrick and see all that he was able to do. He knew I needed to know you. To see you as a mom to Patrick so I would know what kind of mom I would want to be to my own son.
When I got to sit down and talk with you last September, you told me that you didn’t know that Patrick had Down syndrome until you took him to your family doctor for his first round of routine immunizations when he was two-months-old or older.
After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked you if you thought the doctors and nurses knew he had Down syndrome when he was born, and you said, “Supposedly they did, but they thought maybe I couldn’t handle it. Who knows what their feelings were?” When I asked if he was healthy as a baby, you again just said, “Supposedly.” To say I was shocked to hear these things is a gross understatement because in the world of information overload we live in today, the chances of a baby being born with Down syndrome and it not being communicated to the mother is virtually unfathomable. To not know if he or she had any medical conditions that would need additional medical attention or care.
But that’s what makes you so incredible. I honestly don’t think it mattered that you didn’t know right away that Patrick had Down syndrome. Because Down syndrome or not, he was your baby and you were going to love and provide for him the best you could.
You may have only met Moses a handful of times, but your impact on him is much more than the sum of your brief meetings. Because of you, he had a mom that was ready to accept, respect, see, and love him for the person he is and will become.
As we talked, you were amazed that Moses has been receiving therapies since he was 6-weeks old. That he was about to start preschool and would be going to school just like any other child. Those things were not available for Patrick, but yet you still made sure that he wasn’t just tucked away and dismissed. You gave him the opportunities to grow. To be seen. To be known.
Along with a journal and some of Patrick’s old books, you gave me an angel to take home to Moses. You told me to put it up so that he couldn’t reach it and so that it could watch over him. I’m thankful to know that he has another even better angel looking over him now.
Thank you, Mrs. Cordelia. With my whole heart I thank you for being the mom you were to Patrick so I could be the mom I am to Moses.
Jenny (a.k.a. Moses’ mom)
In loving memory of Mrs. Cordelia Ann Rock Conn (1928 – 2019)