A Birth Story: Resilience and Down Syndrome Journey

My daughter has been one of my greatest teachers.

Qismah Amatullah-Azim arrived on this earth on August 31, 1999, at 6:38 a.m. We had no idea that she would be born with Down syndrome—Trisomy 21. I labored quickly with Goose; in fact, I almost delivered her at home because my midwife didn’t think I was in active labor. The night before her delivery, I had taken a bottle of castor oil mixed with Sprite to bring on my labor. She was due August 18th and was almost two weeks overdue.

When she came out, her fingernails were long and her skin was shedding from being “overcooked.” I was so relieved—she was here, healthy, and mine. Those first precious moments were priceless. Little did her father and I know that our world was about to shift completely.

The next morning, the pediatrician came in to do a wellness check. He took longer than usual. When he finally returned, he spoke carefully, like he was stepping over something fragile. He mentioned things that “weren’t the norm”—low muscle tone, a wide space between her toes, little ears. Then he said words I could barely hear: “Down syndrome.” My mind blanked. It sounded like the teacher from Charlie Brown—womp, womp, womp. My husband asked, “Wait! What are you saying?” I just cried.

Yet through all the confusion, my instinct spoke louder than my grief: hold her, love her, care for her. My husband summed it up perfectly when he said, “Take care of her.” And that’s exactly what I did. Even when everything changed, love anchored us.