Outgrowing ‘mentally retarded’ and other unsubstantiated fears

     Thirty-nine years ago, Katie Holleran scared the hell out of us.

     Mary and I were celebrating the delivery of our first child, Kathleen Barbara Holleran.

   “Tell me that child has 10 finger and 10 toes?’’ Mary confidently asked the obstetrician.

  “Yes, she does,’’ Dr. Clay said matter of factly.

   Thirty-five minutes of bliss lasted until Dr. Clay reentered the delivery room and said solemnly, “I want you to know that your daughter shows signs of Down syndrome.’’

  We didn’t say it aloud, but separately we thought, “What’s that?’’

  We asked for clarification.

   “That means she could be mentally retarded. We’ll know more when the pediatrician examines her.’’

  There were no words, only tears. We said an Our Father. We were panicky thinking about her future.

   “Mentally retarded’’ seemed so antiquated, so limiting, so clinical, so cold. Today, we say developmentally challenged, a term that engenders possibilities, promise, growth and accomplishment. The latest buzzword is “differently abled.’’

   They are all part of the first lesson we learned with Katie. She unwittingly taught us so much. The first was about taking nothing for granted.

   Every milestone was recognized and celebrated. Our intervention team taught her to roll over. Soon, we “lost’’ her one day when she rolled from the living room to the dining room and became hidden under a long tablecloth. It was a moment of panic.

   The speech teacher told us she could initiate sign language to promote speech development.

   “Oh, no … we really want her to talk,’’ we told Barb Babiarz, who would become our beloved friend.

   Barb told me years later she was thinking, “Listen you tackling dummy, if I teach her her to sign, she’ll talk sooner.’’ But she said tactfully and compassionately, “Sign language will unlock the concepts she holds in her brain and she’ll speak sooner.’’

  With each Cheerio that Barb put on her highchair, Katie gathered the concept of “more.’’ Soon, she was signing “milk’’ and “crackers’’ and “juice.’’ By 17 months, she said her first words. She hasn’t been quiet since.

    At 22 months, she climbed aboard a small, yellow school bus for the commute to her pre-school intervention class. When she paraded onto the track for her first Special Olympics meet at age 5, you couldn’t focus the camera through the tears.

  Then came pre-K and elementary school, with more effective teachers and supportive friends along the way.

   She met celebrities through school and Special Olympics such as comedian Bill Cosby and Olympic swimmer Mark Spitz. She performed with her dance troupe at local shows, then in Las Vegas too.

    At a Special Olympics gala, she heard Irish tenor Ronan Tynan begin the lyrics to “God Bless America.’’

   “I know all the words to that,’’ she told a local TV anchor.

   “You should go sing with him,’’ the newsman goaded.

  Without hesitation, our confident 4-foot-8 teenager took the bait. She marched to the front of the ballroom and started singing with 6-4-inch Tynan. The only thing more disparate than the size difference was the singing ability. She didn’t lack confidence, only talent.

   Nothing was taken for granted; everything was celebrated.

   We watched as she became the first developmentally challenged altar server at our church and later the angel in the Christmas Eve pageant. One visitor was so impressed that on  the spot he presented the pastor with a check for $10,000. Then came the high school prom, godmother to her youngest cousin, and bridesmaid for her sister’s wedding, always more alike than different.

   So 39 years later, we revel in her birthday. It’s as if FDR’s ghost visited our hospital room and whispered, “the only thing (you) have to fear is fear itself.”

  Katie would affirm that with her two favorite adverbs — “absolutely’’ and “completely.’’

   When I counseled her last month when she was upset, she picked her emotions up from the mat and announced: “Nobody’s going to rain on my parade!’’

    As a parent, you can learn a lot.  Happy birthday, Kathleen mavourneen.

       Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/