Finley’s Story
When Finley was born, he looked like most newborns do, a bit scrunched up and serious. We joked he looked like a Bond villain because of the expression on his face. Those first moments were normal. We were relieved. He was here.
About an hour later, a midwife came to speak to us. She was kind and steady and spoke to us with such care. She told us she suspected Down syndrome. We had done the prenatal screening and been told low risk, so it was not something we had prepared for. But she handled it gently. She explained what she was seeing and what would happen next. There was no panic in the room. We are still close friends with her now, which says everything about how she supported us that day.
Bloods were taken and we went home. For a few days, we were in that strange newborn haze. Feeding, changing, staring at him, learning him. In the back of my mind sat the word suspected, but nothing had been confirmed yet.
The word that stayed
Then the phone rang.
“Mrs Champion, we’re sorry. Finley has Down syndrome.”
It was that word sorry that stuck with me. Not the conversation in hospital, which had been handled with compassion, but the apology attached to the confirmation when we were home and trying to find our feet as new parents.
That first night after the call, I barely slept. I lay in bed scrolling through photos of babies with Down syndrome and holding my phone up near his face to compare. I was trying to convince myself the doctors were wrong. I loved him completely. That was never in question. I was just scared of what I did not understand. When someone says sorry, you assume something has gone wrong.
Nearly twelve years later, I still think about how different that call might have felt if the tone had been congratulations instead.
What I couldn’t see yet
Finley will be twelve this year.
He has grown up in mainstream education. He goes to school, attends clubs and has a strong group of friends. He gets invited to parties. He plays football with the other boys. He has best mates. Watching him build those friendships has meant more to me than I can put into words.
We have also met so many families along the way. Some of our friendships began because of Down syndrome. There is a shared understanding that comes from walking a similar path.
Finley loves being on stage. If there is a performance, he wants to be part of it. He can sing most of OneRepublic’s back catalogue word for word and he gives it everything. He enjoys the attention and it suits him.
Football is a constant in our house. Carlisle United first. Jude Bellingham high on his list of heroes. He follows matches properly and talks about them afterwards.
He plays Xbox and I have seen how it has helped him develop problem solving skills and improve his fine motor control. What started as fun has also supported his development.
Every Saturday he goes horse riding. He looks forward to it all week. Riding has built his confidence and independence, and when you watch him sit tall and focused you see how much he has grown.
At home he is a loving big brother to Heidi. They argue, they laugh, they wind each other up. He looks out for her. She sees her brother first, not a diagnosis.
He also has firm views on food. Sausage and mash followed by ice cream is, in his mind, a perfectly good meal.
This year he moves from primary to secondary school. After a lot of thought, we have chosen a specialist setting. Mainstream worked well in primary and gave him strong foundations. Secondary school brings a faster pace and wider academic expectations. We want him somewhere that understands how he learns and supports him in the right way as he grows.
Part of his story
When I think back to those first few days at home, waiting for the call, I remember the uncertainty. I could not see the friendships, the football debates, the singing, the riding lessons or the steady rhythm of our family life now.
Down syndrome is part of Finley’s story. It shapes some of our decisions. It does not define who he is.
The suspicion came from a kind midwife an hour after he was born.
The confirmation came days later, when we were home. The apology came with it.
There was nothing about him that needed one then.
There is nothing about him that needs one now.
I am proud to be his mum.
World Down Syndrome day is coming up on the 21st March, to find out more and mark it in your calendar check out the HappyMind Inclusion Calendar.
