When we first received my brother's diagnosis, questions were running through my head a mile a minute. I was worried that he would never make friends, that he would never be accepted for who he was and many more worries.

"My journey with Down SYNdrome (it’s amazing how many ways you can pronounce it. Pro tip: switch it up every few months just for fun) begins with me in a surgery suite and a man in his late 50s plunging a needle into my scrotum. His office wall had a medical degree but to be honest I never called the school to confirm, yet there I was. He spent the next hour sewing my vas deferens back together. Post vasectomy reversal surgery, I swear my nether region could feel a gnat flap its wings. Good news, it worked. Michelle and I would be having our fourth child; and a boy, after having three girls.

Eli was in therapy for years trying to learn to sip through a straw. We did OT, ABA and feeding therapy trying to get him to learn. A little after he turned 5, I gave up trying at home and I’ll admit I kinda gave up on him. He still had his honey bear cup everyday with his smoothie, but he learned to just squeeze it to get the smoothie up the straw. Then we eventually stopped therapy when he started kindergarten in the fall. I figured he’d just be one of those kids that could never learn because we had put so much time, sweat and tears into it with zero results. I remember when I got his diagnosis, I promised myself that I would never compare him to typical peers his age, but I never prepared myself for what it would feel like for other kids with Down Syndrome, years younger, doing things before him without any therapy.

Hobbies: Playing with dinosaurs, spending time with his family, being an uncle, and eating french fries