A few more thoughts

on yesterday's post.

I don’t believe that a norepinephrine deficiency makes my daughter the sweet, wonderful, amazing person that she is.

In fact, the older she gets and the greater the expectations of her, the greater the differences between Ellie and her peers become, I see the beautiful light within her dimming slightly. I think her challenges are becoming more apparent to her and getting in her way.

This transition is visible in the pictures of her framed on the wall in our family room. At one, at two, and three, she beams at the camera like she carries the light of a supernova within her soul. In preschool, she smiles. And in this year's school picture she looks directly into the camera: eyes open, mouth slightly quirked up one side, a little puzzled. She spends more time alone than she used to, working through her day's experiences and fixing them down. She's still my Ellie. But life is getting harder.

Before Ellie had surgery to fix her heart, we gave her digoxin and captopril. Because she has low muscle tone she works with a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, and a speech therapist. If Down syndrome is accompanied by a legitimate medical problem, why wouldn’t I treat it medically?

If norepinephrine supplementation would help Ellie's brain function better, we'd look closely at the research, talk to her doctors, and consider giving it a try.

She'll still be my Ellie.