Amy Silverman: Sophie goes to college

Not long after Amy Silverman’s daughter Sophie was born, Amy began telling stories for KJZZ about what it’s like to raise a child with Down syndrome.

Now Sophie is 23. Later this month she’s moving to Denver to attend a small university with a program designed for students with intellectual disabilities — something Amy never would have imagined when Sophie was young. And something she — and Sophie — are still trying to wrap their heads around.

When Sophie was 5, we sent her to kindergarten.

I was terrified. Sophie had attended a pre-school for kids with developmental disabilities. The district insisted on a similar setting for kindergarten, but I insisted more. So Sophie went to our neighborhood school, just like her big sister.

Not exactly like her big sister. Sophie wasn’t tall enough to reach even the kindergarten toilets, so she had to pee in the nurse’s office. She couldn’t write her name. I was positive she’d go missing the first day.

I spent my nights wondering if we should get her micro-chipped, like a puppy, or tattoo my contact info on her body. “If found, please call ...”

I spent my days worrying out loud on Facebook, where I’d found a small community of moms of kids with Down syndrome.

Every single one of those moms said the same thing.

She’ll be fine. Save your energy. Kindergarten is the easy part. 

Amy Silverman

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KJZZ

And now, 18 years later, I know exactly what they meant. Later this month, our family will fly to Denver to drop Sophie off — at college.

I feel like I’m about to leap out of a plane with a parachute that might work. And I’m jumping with my daughter in my arms.

Still, it’s time. Probably past time.

Sophie graduated from high school four years ago. Public school was never perfect, but it provided structure — a place to be each morning and a legal requirement that Sophie be included.

There is no such requirement in the real world.

Despite that, Sophie’s accomplished a lot. She attended community college and performed with the school’s dance company. She took — and passed — kinesiology. I can still barely pronounce the word. She performed as Audrey in "Little Shop of Horrors" and Morticia in "Addams Family." She voted in her first presidential election.

On Mother’s Day last year she woke up and announced we were getting tattoos of hearts we drew for each other. Sophie didn’t flinch.

She also spent a lot of time in bed these past four years — drinking cranberry juice, eating goldfish crackers, watching YouTube and scrolling her contacts, looking for friends to call or text.

In a lot of ways, it’s felt like Sophie’s been waiting all this time to write her own story. And now she has her chance. She’ll live in a dorm with a roommate who also has Down syndrome. She’ll eat in the dining hall, take classes and go to parties.

I cannot picture any of this. I want to throw up all the time. I’m pretty sure Sophie does, too. Instead, we talk about what color fairy lights she’ll hang in her dorm room. How quickly she’ll be home for Fall Break.

I try to remember kindergarten. How Sophie was the only kid to pop off the floor that first day to say the Pledge of Allegiance. How she made a best friend. How she only escaped from school once that year.

It’s been a summer filled with dramatic goodbyes, and even though I remind Sophie that she’s not moving away forever, sometimes it really does feel that way.

“Hey mom, let’s get tattoos before I leave,” she said the other day.

“Sure,” I said. “What are you thinking of getting?”

She paused for dramatic effect, choosing the title of one of her favorite Taylor Swift songs.

“Never Grow Up.”