Carissa tried painting…the paper, the table, anything she could reach. Notice the pigtails–her first time.

When it’s time to put on Wes’s pants or diaper, he gets silly and folds himself up like this so I have to work harder to get the job done. People with Down syndrome are very flexible.

Wes likes to read books, or at least to look at them. I found him at our bookshelf with a giant old picture Bible.

We had our family picture taken at a church activity. It was the end of the night and Wes and Carissa were ready for bed.

Drink before bed…

Brushing teeth…

Prayer time…

Wes turned four in September, but I was a little slow getting him in to the doctor for his well-child check and just went last week.

Wes weighs 32.8 lbs and is 37 inches tall. He’s grown about 6 inches in the last year. On the “typical” child chart he’s in the about 1.3 percentile for height and weight. On the Down syndrome chart he’s closer to 60 or 70 percentile. His BMI is actually in the 70 or 80 percentile. So he’s doing fine.

I read an article recently that said that about 92% of pregnancies that test positive for Down syndrome are aborted. I have a really hard time understanding why any person would want to remove life from her body. I find it especially sad to think that parents who could potentially love and find joy in their child deny their child life because they’re afraid and ignorant about what it’s like to raise a child with a condition like Down syndrome.

I’ve talked with a lot of moms in my county who have children with Down syndrome. All of our kids have unique challenges associated with the extra chromosome. Many kids have more severe medical concerns than Wes has experienced. But even parents who have dealt with heart surgeries, sleep apnea, leukemia (and the list could go on) love their kids and think their kids have worth, regardless of the challenges involved with caring for them.

If people could just understand what they’re giving up when they either abort their baby or give it up for adoption (which is common in other countries; children with disabilities are considered undesirable).

I don’t understand it. John says it’s because I have a good heart, and that maybe it’s better that I don’t always understand why other people do what they do.

I think it’s just because every day I get to watch Wes live and see how much he loves to live. I don’t worry about Wesley’s happiness. I don’t worry about his success. I only worry that he’ll find as much love and acceptance from others as he has for everyone else. It makes me think that kids who are as innocent and full of love as Wes are really made for a better kind of world than we can offer them.

Wes likes to occasionally sit down and practice letters. At school I know they have him practice tracing the letters of his name, which we should probably practice more at home.

When he “writes” I think he’s actually just kind of drawing, and if it turns out to resemble a letter, then he’ll declare it a letter.

Here he is writing the letter “V.”

A three-day-a week ritual.

When Wes knows it’s time for school he waits by the window and says, “Bus! Come!” When the bus arrives he runs to the door and hops (literally) down the front steps. I used to walk with him down the steps all the way to the bus, holding his hand. But Wes won’t hold my hand anymore. Instead, I stand on the porch and watch him go.

He is four years old now, after all.

Wes has never been one of those kids who gravitates towards crafts. So the other day when he came up to me and said, “Paint!”, I had ask him to repeat it a few times to make sure I heard right.

We went downstairs to the office and dug up my old (very old) tray of watercolor paints. I set him up at the table with a cup of water, a coloring page, and old newspaper, and then he got to work on his masterpiece.

And here he is showing off his ambidextrous skills. He is left-handed but often uses his right.