Why is this night different from all other nights?

Because tonight I am thankful my son survived this morning's fall down the stairs. (He has survived two falls off the bed, one down a few steps held by mom, one down a few steps held by dad.)

He usually scoots down safely "in sitting," unless assisted to walk down. This morning I left him half way down, and went to start breakfast. He evidently started down, and decided to pull his knees up inside his t-shirt, which he does when cold (in the a/c). I heard three thumps. He was curled on the floor, silent, face contorted in pain, bleeding from the mouth. Then he started crying quietly. (Was he holding his head oddly?*) The emergency squad was here in a few minutes, and found he was in no apparent, immediate danger. So I took him down to the emergency room. He smiled at me, right upper lip swelling, in the hospital parking lot, and I thought he was probably going to be ok. We went in, and he was checked over and out in a record one hour, 45 minutes. (When he had a concussion, 19 months ago, the visit lasted close to five hours.)

If the worst had happened, I would not cry because we lost our son with Down syndrome, but because we lost our son. I would cry because he had not yet learned to talk, and I had not gotten to know him like I wanted to.

This night, like all other nights, is a night to be thankful.

*Like about 15% of children with Down syndrome, our son has atlanto-axial instability. One of the cervical vertabrae in his neck is weak. He is cleared for horseback riding and the trampoline, but not for somersaults or anything that places pressure on the head or neck.