Introduction: My name is Kevin Crowe. On January 27, 2002, my wife gave birth to our first child, a baby girl named Morgan Ina Crowe. Morgan was born with Down syndrome. This is the story of Morgan and our journey of raising a special needs child.

I began dating Ina Norwood in October 1992, in high school. We met through odd circumstances, and after spending the better part of an afternoon talking in Brandon High School’s band parking lot, a relationship began that neither of us was looking for. We became good friends and could often be found after school sharing some curly fries at Burger King or tater tots at Sonic. Eventually casual friendship turned into steady dating. Zoom forward to 1998. Ina and I were married on June 6, 1998, at Crossgates United Methodist Church in Brandon, MS.

We more or less began trying to create the first new edition to our family in late 2000. I was traveling a great deal with my job, so for our three-year anniversary, I told Ina to pick somewhere to go for a vacation, preferably a destination that required a passport. She picked London and Paris, so I redeemed reward points from Delta and Hilton to take us there free. We stayed mainly in London, but took the EuroStar (the train) to Paris for two days.

It was on our hotel balcony in Paris that my whole world changed in an instant. Our hotel was right beside the Eiffel Tower. We were on the balcony taking in the scenery when Ina asked me if I was ready to become a daddy. I don’t know what I felt first, pure excitement or pure terror. I wanted us to have a child big time, but I guess it’s one of those moments in your life when “it” finally happens and you have no idea how to react. So I did what any macho man would do. I got all mushy. God had smiled upon us and blessed us with the gift of life.

We told the grandparents-to-be on Father’s Day, but waited until Ina had her first doctor’s appointment to share the news with family and friends. The reception of the news from our friends was unbelievable. The child Ina was carrying was so greatly anticipated and loved before she ever got here, you would have thought each and every one of our friends claimed her as their own.

The concept of parenthood didn’t really set in until I went to one of Ina’s doctor visits to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. The instant I heard that rapid thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, I fell in love with my unborn child. Doc said everything looked/sounded fine and that we’d have the sonogram in a few weeks. It’s funny how you can look at most people’s sonogram pictures and see nothing but a blob of black and white. But when it’s your own child’s sonogram, you can see every little detail - the elbows, kneecaps, eye sockets, even heart. Again, Doc was pleased with everything and Ina’s progress. In fact, Ina’s pregnancy was rather uneventful in that she never had any complications. We were well on our way to a normal, healthy baby.

Ina went into labor Saturday night, January 26th. We left for the hospital at about 2:20 AM Sunday morning and were checked in for the duration. Hospital labor progressed normally, I suppose. Since we did not know the gender of the child, the nursing staff started an informal pool. The overwhelming consensus was that “it” would be a boy.

Morgan Ina Crowe was delivered via cesarean section at 9:25 AM, Sunday, January 27, 2002. Everything seemed as normal as could be in the operating room. The neonatal doctor did her stuff, and I was able to carry Morgan out to the nurses’ station to greet the world. That single, short moment of rounding the corner with my child to show her to the world for the very first time was the proudest moment of my life. Both sets of grandparents started the task of announcing to the world the arrival of their first grandchild.

I had just walked back into the nursery from visiting with the grandparents, Ina’s sister, and a few friends when Morgan’s nursery nurse said her neonatologist was going back to Ina’s room to talk to her and I should head that way. Ok. So I started back to the suite thinking the doctor wanted to congratulate us on our new child and such.

The doctor did not waste any time. With my wife drugged out of her mind and me sitting at the bedside, Morgan’s doctor informed us that she showed multiple signs of Down syndrome. I went numb. I seriously felt like I left my body and was looking down on all of this happening like some bad dream you can’t wake up from. The next little while is still a blur of memories, but I remember the doctor rattling off a list of tale-tale physical characteristics - the flattened bridge of the nose, the slanting of the eyes, the little fold of skin on the inside of the eyes, the wider spacing between her big toe and next toe. I couldn’t understand what was happening. My shoulders slumped and my heart ached - I truly know what a broken heart feels like now - and I was helpless to help my wife. All I could do was hold her hand. I couldn’t even cry.

And there’s Ina. She’s just had surgery to deliver her child, she’s full of some really groovy drugs, she’s seen her daughter for all of about one minute, and she’s slapped with this news. Her natural response was to blame herself for Morgan being born with Down. That perhaps something she did or did not do during her pregnancy caused this. Ina had looked forward to this day for many, many years. The thought of anything other than a normal baby never crossed her mind.

Morgan is the first grandchild for both sets of grandparents. I still hadn’t been able to collect myself enough to think when the grandparents and Ina’s sister came into the room. A fly on the wall would have thought we were mourning the loss of a child. Well, in a very real way, we were. Instead of celebrating the arrival of a new life, we grieved the loss of a normal baby. What do you say to someone who has just received this news to make him or her feel better? Ina’s co-worker, and dear friend, Carol may have said the most important words we heard that day. She sat at Ina’s bedside smiling. Why? What she told Ina was that she had an absolutely beautiful baby girl. And her baby was in well-baby care in the nursery. And you should see that hair! So, why are we all crying?

Several doctors and nurses had already listened to Morgan’s heart and could not hear any murmur that would alarm them. They said her muscle tone was also good; both were good news. They needed to run a chromosome test to verify Down syndrome and which type, as well as an echocardiogram to look for defects in her heart. The echo results were very encouraging in that there were no defects in her heart, but we still had to wait ten or so more days for the chromosome test results. I don’t know why that bothered me. It was simply going to confirm what we already knew.

The love and support from friends and family was overwhelming. There was a constant stream of people coming by to offer their support and to see Morgan. Morgan was not just our child; she was everybody’s child. Everyone had so greatly anticipated her arrival, there should have been a celebration, and slowly but surely we did celebrate Morgan’s arrival. After all, all we ever said we wanted was a healthy baby. And that’s exactly what we got.

Later, we would tally up some 70-something different people that came by to visit while we were at the hospital. Ina works at the hospital in Cardiovascular Recovery, so there were people from all over the hospital coming by to see us. From 7:00 AM to 9:00 PM, it seemed there were people visiting. The nurses were concerned about the flow of people all the time and offered to police visitors, but we needed all the support we could get. The overwhelming response was, “OK, so she has Down syndrome. What can we do to help? Where can we get information so we can be educated?” No one ever openly felt sorry for us, regardless of how they felt outside our presence.

The nursing staff in the maternity wing at St. Dominic Hospital was incredible. They didn’t treat us any different than they would anyone else. After all, Morgan is just a baby. The fact that she has Down syndrome did not make her any different from any other baby in their eyes. If anything, Morgan d rew people to her. People wanted to come see her after hearing how beautiful she was.

Taking Morgan home was quite the experience. In the hospital, we had nursing help 24 hours a day. At home, we were essentially on our own. Ina’s mom stayed with us from early morning until late night, taking care of household things so we could focus entirely on Morgan. Even at home, people stopped by often to see Morgan and bring food. Being home with her helped, but we still had so many questions and worries about what to expect. But also a new sense of panic set in. Bringing home a new baby is dramatic enough. Bringing home a special needs baby that you know nothing about is even more terrifying.

All we knew about people with Down syndrome is that they look different, ride the short bus to school, and spend their school days in the slow class. Or so we thought. We were given a book in the hospital (Babies with Down Syndrome: A New Parents Guide) to read that would tell us more about the syndrome and give us some insight. Saying I skimmed half of it may be an overstatement. The book is full of all sorts of information about all of the common health/behavioral problems associated with Down syndrome. What we needed were words of encouragement and happiness from someone who knows what we are experiencing, not 200 pages of everything that could be wrong with my child. I can’t recall a single positive statement I read in that book. Instead, we decided to let Morgan just be Morgan. After all, she would let us know if something was wrong.

The blessings from God didn’t stop with the arrival of Morgan. Morgan’s pediatrician has practical experience in treating children with Down syndrome. She essentially echoed what we had heard and read so many times - just let Morgan be Morgan. If there’s anything that needs special attention, we’ll address it. Don’t fix something that isn’t broken.

Mississippi has an early intervention program called First Steps that was recommended to us for getting any therapy Morgan may need in her early years of development. She started in the program in May and has shown significant improvement in her development. Her physical therapist, LaTaunya Wallace, has to be an angel sent straight from the heavens. She has Morgan on a very normal development track and seems more of a friend and playmate than someone who comes to the house twice a week to make Morgan workout.

Parent support groups were also recommended to us for asking questions and meeting other parents who also have children with DS. By the time I thought we were ready to seek out such a group, neither of us thought we needed one. Our friends and family have been our support group. Since Morgan is so healthy and did not have any of the common complications associated with DS, we didn’t feel a support group was what we needed. Then I found unomas21.com. Uno meaning 1, mas meaning more, and 21 meaning the 21st chromosome - one more 21st chromosome. The site is exactly what we did need. It’s a message board and forum for parents of children with Down syndrome to interact online. It’s not full of documents about medical problems, inclusion problems, etc… It’s full of real people’s stories and interaction. It’s an online place to ask questions, vent frustrations, and brag. Exactly what we needed.

Zooming forward to present day - July 13, 2002 - Morgan is a healthy 5-½ month old baby. She has had no health complications and is a rapidly growing bundle of joy. She absolutely loves her oatmeal and pears at breakfast and has learned how to make a spitting-like noise that she cracks us up with after pretty much every meal. She loves sitting up and being whistled and sung to and laughing. So many times I find myself worrying about her future. Will she be able to sit by herself on time, will her ears develop so that she can get tubes, will she have significant hearing loss if they don’t, will she have significant learning delays, will she be able to walk on time? It’s really easy to get caught up in that trap, but then I just go pick her up and all the worry goes away. It’s amazing what love and affection will do for a child - and her parents. Morgan will be just fine.

I remember as a child hearing the phrase “count your blessings”. I know there’s a church hymn about this, and I think there’s a children’s song, too. I believe it goes something like “… count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings, see what God has done…”. I never truly understood this until Morgan came into my world. I do not know God’s plan for our future, but I can see clearly the blessings He has provided in the past now. Have you counted your blessings today?