Dancing His Heart Out

Shortly after the birth of our son and his subsequent diagnoses of Down Syndrome, a kind, older nurse came into my hospital room. As I sat there with tears in my eyes, she tended to my needs and tried to make conversation during an awkward moment. She told me that when she was in nurse's training she had worked at a developmental center and all she could remember about the mongoloids was that they could knit and they could dance! Note to all medical professionals: One-NEVER use the word mongoloid, two-never tell a mother that her first born son will be a proficient knitter and three—kids with Down Syndrome DO love to dance.

Andy started dancing long before he could walk. He loves to dance and is, in fact, a very good dancer. Many a family party has risen to a new level of fun because of Andy’s love for music and dance. Many high school proms have been enlivened by Andy’s willingness to dance every single dance. Many a wedding guest has had the privilege of “cutting the rug” with Andy. Dancing comes naturally and joyfully to Andy.

In my study of African Dance this week, I have learned something that helps me to appreciate Andy’s love of dance on a deeper level. “Dance,” Robert Nicholls writes, “is a psycho-social device able to penetrate many aspects of human existence.” Omofolabo Soyinka Ajayi explains, “Dance is a vehicle of communication. It is able to express an action, an idea. As a sign, dance is a multi-communicative channel, transmitting information not only through time and space but also kinetically, visually and through human sensorial perceptions. Its versatility as a multi-channel system make dance a communication powerhouse able to give information at many different levels simultaneously.”

Oh, how desperately Andy needs this communication powerhouse in a body that struggles endlessly to convey the feelings of his heart. Speech and hearing are perhaps the greatest physical challenges faced by people with Down Syndrome. At an early age, most are taught sign language as a means of making their most basic needs known. As Andy’s mother, I am usually able to translate what Andy is saying to those who may not be familiar with his forms of speech. However, many a tear filled afternoon has occurred as we have labored intensely to find the sounds and the words to express an unfilled need. A person who is blind may be compensated by a heightened sense of touch and hearing. Perhaps those who cannot communicate verbally are compensated kinetically so that they too can express feelings such as happiness, joy and sorrow?

Through the years, I have come to realize that the “differences” of people with Down Syndrome and myself is very minimal. Instead, we are exactly alike in so many ways. Could it be that I, too, have a hard time communicating my deepest feelings? Doesn’t finding the sounds and words to convey the feelings of my heart reach tear-filled intensity at times? These are the moments that I long for a communication powerhouse to transport me across the gulf of unexpressed feelings. Maybe next time I am feeling blue, or happy, or frustrated, I will be more like Andy and close my bedroom door, crank up the music, and communicate to my hearts content.