Beauty for its own sake

"No one says she’s beautiful", a sentence so full of pain uttered, so sadly, by the mother of a Down’s Syndrome baby girl. It’s as simple as that when we hurt by omission. This young mother pushes her pram along the street without the usual ooohs and aaahs from passers by as if, somehow, beauty could only be ascribed to a child whose 21st chromosome behaves itself in the time-honoured fashion.

My cousin, Róisin, was the youngest of nine children; she was the heart of the family. Róisin was given every opportunity to blossom and shine, which she certainly did, especially when she was atop a horse. My aunty, Gráinne, told me how when she had given birth, Róisin was ushered away for tests amid whispers among the attendant health professionals. It wasn’t until two or three days had passed that the head honcho announced in serious tones that it was definitely confirmed: Róisin was blessed with Down’s Syndrome. No, he didn’t say blessed, but Gráinne did. She was delighted to have a diagnosis at last, her mind had been running riot, now she could get on with the business of being a mother.

My friend Eithne is busily knitting and sewing so that this bundle of joy will wear the finest cloth and wool as her mother promenades with her pram through the streets of her home town. If you see her, please stop and peer inside the hood and tell her, tell them both actually, that she really is a beautiful baby girl. And if you want to keep Eithne happy too, then admire her fetching outfit: it will be the icing on the cake for all concerned.