Today’s guest author is non other than the fabulous Will Beischel. Another former student and current Junior at Loyola University Chicago. We are so glad to have had the great honor to get to know him in the four short months he studied here. If I had to pick one word to describe Will, it would be laughter. Not only because of his totally awesome and contagious laugh, but because it seems to constantly follow wherever he goes. You don’t want to miss a minute when Will’s around. His laugh, like Annie’s smile, can light up the darkest room. He is an incredibly talented writer, a perfect shopping partner, and a tremendous friend. And his dance moves can’t be beat. Although, I do recall hearing about a close call during a dance-off with my husband in Tunisia. Annie and I were tucked snuggly in our hotel beds at the time. So we’ll just give Will the benefit of the doubt. We love and miss you, Will. Thanks for your perfect words!

I can say with the utmost confidence that knowing Annie Beazley has changed my life. The first time I met Annie, I honestly had no idea that she had Down Syndrome. All I saw was a beautiful, well-behaved baby that possessed this magnetism that drew everyone to her with open arms and loving expressions. Whenever I saw her face, and even now just thinking about her jovial attitude and sassy looks, I could not help but smile. Annie truly elicits joy in whomever is in her presence. Whether that has to do with her diagnosis or not, who is to tell? Does it even matter?

As a psychology major, becoming familiar with Annie has done wonders for my understanding and views of developmental disabilities and “abnormal” functioning. When I learned that Annie had Down Syndrome, I looked with new eyes upon this precious little person and saw that nothing had changed. I think that’s when I realized something: Annie’s Down Syndrome is a part of her, just as much as my infamous laugh is a part of me. I can’t tease the two apart, nor would I ever want to. I just wish more people personally knew Annie and others like her who might view the world differently than most people. Maybe then everyone could stop using labels and misconceived perceptions to dismiss those who don’t perfectly fit into their idea of a society.

I can’t know what it’s like to be Annie Beazley, but I do know the light she brings into this world, a light that is invaluable and should be cherished. So I would like to thank Annie for that gift and would wish upon the world for that gift to be spread as far and as wide as possible. I love you so much Annie! Keep sharing that light and I can’t wait to see you again.

Love,

Will

Today’s guest author shares a special place in Annie’s and my heart. He studied here as a student last Spring and has become a dear friend ever since. Mitch Catalano is currently a senior at Loyola University Chicago. He is one of the bravest young men I have met. He wears his heart on his sleeve and loves without hesitation. He is EVERYONE’S friend. It would be hard to find a more genuine person than Mitch. He would go out of his way to give anyone in need the shirt off his back. And Annie is absolutely in love with him. (It must be all that facial hair!)

To give you a tiny glimpse of the type of guy he is I’ll share my favorite Matt and Mitch story. (Matt is Mitch’s best friend who studied here also, they are joined at the hip, and he is just as stellar of a guy as Mitch!) At the end of the semester when all the students were packing their bags to head back to the states, Matt and Mitch were headed off for another 10 or so days of travel with their last two days to be spent back in the Eternal City that they had spent the past four months falling in love with. And for those last two days, instead of heading out for one last gelato from their favorite gelateria, or visiting their favorite piazzas one last time; they chose to spend both of their final days abroad in my living room with Annie. They watched her favorite movie, the Muppets, with her and laughed with her at all her favorite parts. I told them they were crazy, but they assured me that there was no other way they would want to end their time here than with a few more moments with her. We miss you guys! 

Thanks, Mitch, for this heartfelt post. You are the greatest and we know love will always follow you wherever you go!

When one travels abroad you encounter many things. Different cultures offer such a broad variety of new customs, languages, and behaviors, that a person could never properly prepare themselves for. It is a time to let oneself let go of everything they knew before and become an open palate for life to paint on.

I can tell you that my palate was certainly wiped clean when I first arrived in Rome in early January of this year. I was prepared to learn everything possible about Italian culture. The language, the cuisine, the everyday workings of Italian life. It seemed as if the list would be endless and it was. While all of these new experiences filled my head, I found that there was still something missing. Some part of me was not yet fulfilled by this amazing experience.

I realized that this part was my heart. There was so much longing inside me that I had to do away with. I contemplated on what more I could do to fulfill this desire and, as life would have it, I was able to find it in the last place I would have looked for it.

That place was in the eyes and heart of Annie Beazley. The love she was able to illustrate is one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed. So amazing that it is even difficult to describe. She showed it with her beautiful smile, her clapping, and her desire for constant physical contact. She shared it by imitating our every action, touching our faces, and shouting joyously every time she was held or gently flung into the air.

The truly incredible thing was how her love was entirely selfless. She always gave more to others than she ever asked for herself. Certainly she was given so much love and care from everyone she met; however, those who knew Annie best agreed that they never could truly repay her for what she had given them. For me, she proved that love was not an intangible thing we all try to attain throughout our lives. It was tangible, it was attainable, and it existed all around us. All we had to do was open our hearts like Annie did hers and we could find it.

The lessons Annie taught us all helped me find some of the most important relationships I had ever come across. Friends, mentors, confidants, and a romantic partnership that I will not forget until my dying day. All these people filled a void I had left open for so long and it was Annie’s shining example that gave me the courage to do so.

I hope the readers of this blog and those who know Annie best can and will take this as an example of how people should never be defined by the physical attributes assigned to them. As Mom always used to tell me, it’s about what’s on the inside that really matters. I truly believe that those who have experienced Down Syndrome in their life know this to be true. Individuals born with the condition have an emotional intelligence that surpasses any “normal” individual I have ever met. They are in no way less fortunate. They can still feel what “normal people” feel, think what “normal people” think, and function as an important part of all our lives.

If nothing else, let’s remember that every human being has a reason for their lives and should never be defined by the physical attributes they have or lack. Whether entirely healthy or affected by Down’s Syndrome, every person has a gift they share with us and we should all recognize these. Annie’s gift is illustrating to us what love really is and what it really means. For me, the picture that was painted by my time abroad was completed by her gift and for that I will be forever grateful. I love you, Annie, and I know you love me too.

Today’s guest is another former student. Ryan is currently a junior at Loyola University Chicago.

The first time I met Ryan Bedell was on an orientation bus last Spring. This handsome young man from a few rows back approached me before the wheels were rolling and said “Hi, I’m Ryan and if you need someone to hold your baby so you can have a break I’d be happy to help.” Without a thought I plopped Annie immediately in his arms. I know men have a soft spot for babies too, but it’s usually the female students that are anxious to get their hands on Annie. Maybe the guys are embarrassed or uncomfortable, I’m not sure. But then along comes Ryan! He was the first student from that class, other than her aunt, who held Annie. And as I witnessed that first interaction between them, I saw it. The inevitable. The melting of hearts. But as obvious that it was that Ryan’s heart melted in that instant, it was ten times more evident that Annie’s melted in return. Ever since Ryan held Annie that first time, she seems to prefer the male students over the female population that outnumbers them. I don’t know if it’s the lack of maintenance to their facial hair while they study here or their bigger and broader embrace, but whatever it is, she eagerly jumps into the arms of men. Thanks for that Ryan! (If you can’t hear my sarcasm, I want you to be sure that it’s there.) We love you and miss seeing your contagious smile around campus. Thanks for contributing to Annie’s blog and helping to bring Awareness. 

My first week in Rome, I remember the first time I met Annie Beazley. I hadn’t thought much about children with Down Syndrome before. I had never considered what it would be like if I had a child of my own with Down Syndrome. Annie made me begin to think about these questions. Annie is the most adorable child on the face of the planet. It is very saddening to me that so many parents who test prenatally for DS terminate their pregnancies. Annie is a gift to all those she meets. Her smile and playful nature made my day every time I saw her. I tell everyone she was the hardest goodbye I had to say when I left Rome, and I still miss her very much! Some of my favorite Annie memories were how she liked to scratch the whiskers on my face and how she would dance to The Band. She is one of the first things I bring up when people ask about the JFRC. I know two hundred students who miss her just as much as I do. Annie had a profound impact on all of us students. All of us have our favorite Annie moments, and everyone misses her. I would be incredibly lucky to have a baby as adorable, well behaved, and loving as Annie someday. Mike and Colleen are the best parents around, and she’s a lucky young lady!

Samantha Sleva is a former colleague of Mike’s. She worked for him for the entire 2011/2012 academic school year. And though we only got to spend one short year in Italy with her, she instantly became part of our family and always will be. One of my favorite Sam memories is coming home after a date night while she was babysitting with another colleague to the two of them sitting on the couch with bowls full of popcorn watching our unedited wedding video. I think we walked in while they were on hour 5! We miss you, Sam, and can’t wait to visit again in Chicago. Thanks so much for sharing the impact Annie had on you. We are also forever grateful for the impact you’ve had on all three Beazleys. Sending love from your other home! Please come back soon!

I met Annie Beazley in August of 2011 when she was just 4 months old. I was preparing for a year abroad working as a Student Life Assistant at the John Felice Rome Center, where Annie calls home. I was certain that this year of work would be transformative, I just didn’t know at that point that this little one would play such a role in that transformation. I knew very little about Down Syndrome before meeting Annie, and I will admit that I was very ignorant about it. That’s why I think this blog is such an important tool. It has the power to show the world that Down Syndrome isn’t that different, and it has the power to share the sunshine that Annie brings to so many people. 

Kelsey is another one of our former students here in Rome. She is a senior at Loyola University Chicago. Last May when I wrote to ask students if they’d be willing to write about their experiences meeting and knowing Annie, she was the first to respond. This was in my inbox the very next day. I am so honored to have her as a guest author. She’s right, I don’t remember that day in the cafeteria when I handed Annie over to her.

Kelsey, we love and miss you! Thank you for sharing this beautiful story and my bet is you’ll make the world’s greatest mom when the time is right!

Babies freak me out. I’ve said that for as long as I can remember. They terrify me. Maybe it’s just something that many women my age feel – we’re young and able and ready for the world. Maybe it was because I was one of the youngest in my family – there were no babies for me to play with, to learn with, to understand. Maybe it’s just because the whole idea of children is the lifelong unknown. Having kids can’t be that hard, right? If it was, the population probably wouldn’t be quite so huge. But to me it is a big, hard, scary thing. I can’t imagine having any child, but what if I had a child with special needs? How could I cope?

When I arrived in Rome, there was a family living at my school. Mike, Colleen and Baby Annie. They are the nicest people. They were there for us through our whole Italian adventure. It was amazing how quickly the entire school took to Annie. She is this sweet little girl with Down Syndrome. No one said anything negative. No one made it a big deal. Instead, everyone raved about this wonderful, happy little girl. We joked that when she turned 16, she would have to bring her Italian boyfriend home to meet her parents – all her parents, all 200 of us.

One day, Colleen sat by me at dinner in Mensa. (She probably doesn’t even remember.)  Baby Annie was in her arms. Colleen needed to grab something – I don’t remember what she needed, there was a baby staring at me and I didn’t know what to do. That was all I could focus on. As I mentioned, babies freak me out. Without thinking, I said I would hold her and Colleen plopped her on my lap. And there she was, staring up at me, her tiny tongue moving around in her mouth. All I could think of was how she was extra fragile. I just knew I was going to break her accidentally. She looked up at me. 

And then she smiled.

And suddenly, I felt okay. I wasn’t scared to hold her. I wasn’t nervous that I would break her. I didn’t feel like I was going to do something that might make her upset. I just bounced her a little and made a noise and watched her smile at me. Then that was it. Colleen was back and Baby Annie was off my lap.

I’m not going to say that I’m cured of my fear and that I want to have my own baseball team, or anything. But in that split second, Baby Annie made me realize that she smiles the same way I do. And somehow that’s enough to make me not quite so scared.

If I do end up having kids, I hope they smile just like Baby Annie.

Today’s guest blogger is my sister Kaylea. I am the oldest of six children: three girls, three boys, in that order. Kaylea is the youngest of the sisters. She along with our sister Molly is so much more than a sister, my closest and best friend. For the three years before we moved to Rome, Kay was off living in Florida studying to become the kick-butt attorney she is today.  So we didn’t get to see her that often. Now, we see her even less. (Though she is currently tied with Molly for most visits to Rome with three visits each!) We treasure every moment with her. She is my rock when I start to crumble; she never fails to bring the fun when days seem dim. I see so much of her personality in Annie. Zia Kaylea, we love you and miss you so much!

I’ll never forget the moment I found out I was going to be an aunt for the first time. My sister Molly and I were the first to hear the news, which was only shortly after Colleen herself saw the double pink lines on that little white stick.  It was the day of Colleen and Mike’s big going away party, almost exactly one year after another unforgettable party celebrating their matrimony.  Now, if you’ve ever been to a party at the Weiler house, you know that the phrase “quite the ordeal” is a major understatement. And I’m not talking about the parties we kids threw when mom and dad were out of town… although those were fun too! I’m talking about the REAL Weiler parties that my amazing dad somehow manages to find the time and money to throw together at least once a year.   REAL Weiler parties seldom have fewer than 100 guests in attendance, never end before 2:00 am and usually start the night before, as dozens of cousins and friends come over to prep the food (stuffing sausages and cabages and rolling out the dough for homemade pasta, mixing the batter for potato pancakes and/or making buckets full of sangria), clean up and more importantly drink lots of beer!  

What my parents’ living room looks like on nights before and after REAL Weiler parties. All beds, couches, and floor space are filled to maximum capacity.

 So of course on the day we had the big send-off for Colleen and Mike, there were at least twenty people at the house by 10 am (when the party was to commence at 3:00 pm), and there was a LOT of running around to do.  At that point it had not even hit me that my oldest sibling was about to leave the country indefinitely.  So when Molly and I returned from a hectic beer run that involved three shopping carts full of beer, wine, liquor and snacks, and twenty minutes of freaking out because we had lost the car keys somewhere inside the huge grocery store, we weren’t thrilled when the first thing we heard as we pulled in the driveway and attempted to start unloading was “Girls, Colleen says she needs you and she says it’s urgent.”  Then as we walked in the house, carrying all the purchases we’d made for HER party, we heard Colleen shouting our names from the top of the stairs, wrapped in a towel.  We both immediately said, “Coll- it doesn’t matter what you wear, you will look beautiful in anything.”  We really thought the important thing she needed us for was fashion advice. 

 So after attempting to ignore her yells for fifteen minutes or so, we finally ascended the stairs to see what the emergency was all about.  She handed us the little white stick with a purple cap and asked, “Is this positive?”  Now the second pink line was slightly faded, but it looked like a pretty clear positive to me.  I immediately became teary-eyed, started jumping for joy and hugged my oldest sister.  Molly, the nurse, had a very different reaction.  She told Colleen that before she gets too excited, she should go to the doctor to see for certain and to make sure everything was going ok.  

From left to right; Kay, me, and Molly on that first day we found out about Annie. Mike was the only one who knew that day as we were surrounded by hundreds of family and friends to say goodbye.

 Rewind to March of 2009.  A few weeks after my wonderful brother-in-law proposed to my sister, he sat me down and asked me what I would think if he one day got a job in Italy and had to take my sister away with him.  I, thrilled that he valued my opinion, answered that although I would miss them greatly, I would also be 100% excited for them and would seize every opportunity to come visit them.  What hadn’t crossed my mind at that moment were all the things I wouldn’t be there for.  

It wasn’t until a year later when I helped my pregnant sister check in at the Alitalia counter at the O’Hare airport with her four enormous suitcases, not knowing when the next time I would see her would be, that I realized what all this meant.  I would have to see her first ultrasound picture over the internet, I would have to hear the news learned at each doctor’s visit over Skype or email, I wouldn’t get to feel my niece or nephew kick inside her belly and most disappointing of all, I would not be in the hospital with my sister when she became a mother for the first time.

 Still, when on April 1, 2011 at approximately one in the afternoon (Miami time), I received the news, by way of a phonecall from my mother, that I had a niece named Anne Kathleen Beazley, I was overwhelmed by emotion.  I was extremely happy and excited to be an aunt, but at the same time I was sad and almost felt guilty that I was not there with my sister.

It wasn’t until the morning of April 2, 2011 that I found out about Annie’s diagnosis.  As I revisited the pictures of the tiny bundle I had just seen fewer than eighteen hours earlier, I looked at them in a different light.  I analyzed them thoroughly.  “But she doesn’t LOOK like she has Down Syndrome.” “Yes, I guess her arms look kind of limp at her side, whereas other newborns clasp their hands close to their face…but she JUST DOESN’T LOOK LIKE SHE HAS DOWN SYNDROME.”  “Maybe that means it’s only ‘mild’” “Maybe she’ll be more like a ‘normal’ child than most other babies with Down Syndrome.” Looking back, I cannot even believe I had these thoughts.  SHE LOOKS LIKE ANNIE, and she’s beautiful.  And she gets more and more beautiful every day.  She has Colleen’s bright blue eyes, Mike’s button nose and light redish-blond Beazley hair.  She is part Weiler and part Beazley, part Colleen and part Michael, and she is 100% ANNIE.  The “Down Syndrome features” that she does display do not make her any less beautiful.  They do not define her. 

 As I analyzed the pictures of Annie’s first days, a new emotion came over me.  I was scared.  I was frightened and nervous for my sister.  I was terrified about the life she now had ahead of her, a life that would be much different than the one she dreamed of.  Scared for the challenges she would face.  But most of all I was scared because she would have to face them without me and Molly and Mom and Dad and Danny and Tommy and Bubba.  And although I was scared for her, I knew that she would be able to handle it.  And I said to her the only thing I could think of to “console” her.  I said, “Colleen, we have always known that you and Mike are going to be amazing parents.  God gave Annie to you because he knew that if there were any two people on this earth that could handle this, it’s the two of you. You can provide so much for her.  You can teach her so much.”  And of course I meant these things and believed them to be true.

 But I was wrong.  It was Annie that would teach us so much.  And I should never have had to “console” my sister for this gift that turned out to keep on giving and giving and giving.  And yes, Colleen and Mike are amazing parents, but God didn’t give them Annie because he knew they could “handle” her.  He gave them Annie because Annie would bring more light and love to their lives and to the lives of so many people around her than anyone could have imagined. 

 In a previous post, my brother Danny wrote about the well thought-out things HE said to Colleen after hearing of Annie’s diagnosis. I don’t know the exact contents of that email he sent to her eighteen months ago, but I know that one thing he said was something along the lines of “Annie is going to be so loved by so many people.”   And we all know I RARELY admit when this happens, but DANNY WAS RIGHT.  I just don’t think even he knew how right he was at the time.  Although I am sad every day that I am an ocean away from my sister, brother-in-law and niece, I know that every day Annie is surrounded by so many students, teachers, faculty and even Italian strangers who absolutely love and adore her. And she gives them so much love in return.  

Annie with Aunt Kay and Uncle Danny in our neighborhood park in Rome.

 This weekend, I had the honor of spending a little bit of time with the 94 year old grandmother of one of my best friends, Sandy Reitman.  When our friend Jon asked this incredible woman if she had any advice for the younger generations, she calmly responded, “I live my life based on two words.  ‘Attitude’ and ‘Acceptance’, and if you have one then you’ve got the other.”  As I thought about this later on, I realized that a one-year old baby girl with Down Syndrome had already taught me this very same thing, although she wasn’t able to communicate it to me in words as elegantly as could Mrs. Alicia Reitman.  Annie accepts absolutely everyone with open arms and a smiling face, and as she does so, she teaches others to be accepting as well.  Annie doesn’t discriminate, and neither should we.  

         

A few months back, I wrote to some former students, family members, and friends to see if they would write about how knowing Annie has impacted them or changed their views on Down Syndrome. I knew I wanted to bring awareness this month by sharing Annie and I thought the more perspectives I have of her the better. The more Annie stories we can tell the more awareness we can bring. And better coming from more mouths than just mine. (Plus I knew we’d be away for Fall Break and that I desperately needed a bit of help.)

The response has been unreal. The words they have written have knocked me off my feet, brought tears to my eyes. There is no way I could ever tell them how much their words mean. Nor to thank them for taking time out of their busy schedules to write about our daughter.

While I knew they “fell in love” with Annie from observation, I didn’t know how deep that love went. I am overwhelmed by their honesty. Floored by the impact my family has had on them. I want them to know that their impacts on us are 21 times as great as they claim ours on them to be.

Mike, Annie, and I leave for Poland today. By the time this post goes out, we will be in Munich waiting for our connection to Warsaw. The next eight posts or so will be taken over by guest authors. I am honored that they have volunteered to be a part of my little blog. They are spectacular and we love them all!  Thanks for helping me to bring 31 straight days of Awareness for Trisomy 21!

Please read all their posts! There words are much more powerful than my own! And as forewarning….there will be some tears shed in the next eight days!

For now, here’s a pic of Annie while we were packing for our trip to the beautiful, but very cold, country of Poland. Hope it makes you smile. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure her legs are appropriately covered too!