Today was Yuan-lun's 20th birthday. I had made arrangements with his teacher beforehand and sent him a cake at school in the morning so he could celebrate with his classmates. After he came home, he opened presents from his grandmother, uncle and his cousins. There were some nice clothes, his favorite soft drink and the chewing gum he likes . . . he was very happy.

His older sister, who is studying in the United States, remembered to send him a card, too. . "Dear Little Brother, October 9th is your birthday. I can't come back for your birthday, but I'm sending you this card, and I'll buy you some clothes and a toy when I get back." Yuan-lun understood each word and read them out loud.

When I got home from work, I asked Yuan-lun what he wanted to eat for his birthday dinner. Without hesitating, he picked steak, and the two of us, mother and son, went off to a Western restaurant. As I watched him in the candlelight, so well behaved and concentrating on cutting up his food, my eyes couldn't help misting over. My son had turned 20. For me, it was truly a day for pride and celebration.

Find somewhere to send him: I had Yuan-lun when I was 26. I remember the nurse having told me that all the babies the doctor had delivered that day had been boys, and as soon as I had him, I heard the doctor cry out: It's a boy!

But the joy of having a bouncing boy didn't last long. Twenty-four hours later, when they brought him in for to hold, I felt something wasn't quite right: He was too red and soft, like an unripe fruit. I anxiously asked the doctor, who stammered back, "Your child may be a little slow, a little hard to care for."

"So what if he's a little slow?" I didn't follow and turned to my husband, who was at my side. It was his analogy that suddenly brought it home: "Like the kind we see by the side of the road!" It turns out that the doctor had already told him what had happened but hadn't had the heart to tell me.

I was shattered and couldn't stay in the hospital. I left the next day. To my surprise, I was even sadder at home. I had two daughters and now that I finally had a boy, friends and relatives kept sending congratulations. I tried to smile, but I was crying inside. I just couldn't accept the fact that my son was a Down's child, and I asked the doctor to find a place to send him.

We're creatures of emotion, though, and even if he was a Down's child he was still my own flesh and blood and I couldn't bear to give him up. A month or so later, he was crying furiously. I walked over, patted him and said, "Don't cry. Mama will heat up some milk for you"--and he stopped. I looked at him and said to myself: He's different from "the children we see on the street"!

My child is different! I started to read books and I found through my sister-in-law a doctor at National Taiwan University Hospital who told me, "Don't believe all you read. Treat him like a normal child. The only thing is, Down's syndrome children have weak constitutions and poor digestion, so you've got to be extra careful looking after him."

That's how I started out. He had a lot of problems before he was three--rose rash, summer fever, lymphoma. We bought our first air conditioner because of him when he was two. He hardly managed to gain a kilogram a year, and when he had lymphoma he was in the hospital for four weeks and lost three kilograms. To let him get more exercise, we gave him a little tricycle for his second birthday and taught him how to ride it, and we bought him a bigger one every year after that.

After he turned three, his health improved and he was ready to start learning. The nursery school wouldn't take him, so I taught him myself. I put all my hopes in an elementary school renowned for its special education, looking forward to the day when Yuan-lun could go there after he turned six.

When the school's response arrived, I was very excited. But it turned out that his IQ score was too low for admission; it was below 50. I hurried off to talk to the principal. Yuan-lun's test results might have been off because he rarely came into contact with strangers, I said. Please let him try again. The principal was blunt: "Your child is ineducable. You should put him in a residential care center or else just let him muddle his way through six years of regular school."

He understands money! That was the biggest blow I had received since having him. But I wasn't knocked down, because having lived with him day and night for six years, I knew my son could learn. I was determined to send him to a private special education center so he could be taught by specialists.

Yuan-lun got his special education, but the costs were on a par with college--tuition plus transportation added up to over NT$40,000. What made up for it was he made quick progress, established good social relationships and formed good living habits.

At the center I met many parents of children with Down's syndrome. We talked about our experiences, and I began to feel less lonely--many people were even less fortunate than I and needed more help.

From heading up the parents association at the center to organizing the Hsin Lu Cultural and Education Foundation in 1987, I threw myself into groups for families of mentally retarded children. hoping to help not only Yuan-lun but other unfortunate children as well.

After Yuan-lun had studied at the center for eight years, I had him enter a special education class in junior high school to see how he would do. The start of his first semester was a mess. He didn't under-stand class periods. After the first class was dismissed, he would run out to play and not come back when the bell rang for the second period, forcing the teacher to look all over for him. I had to wait outside the classroom at the end of each period and bring him back in for the next period until he finally adjusted.

By the next year, Yuan-lun's language ability, socialization and ability to get along with others had greatly improved. What thrilled me the most was he had learned how to count money. He knew that one NT$10 coin and nine NT$1 coins make NT$19, and that two NT$10 coins make NT$20. He still had a hard time comprehending that two NT$5's make NT$10 and that one NT$5 and four NT$1's are NT$9, but I was satisfied. He was 16.

The teacher couldn't bear to see him leave: Small problems came up occasionally. He didn't want to change into his gym clothes at school, for instance, because "Mommy says to change clothes in my room or in the bathroom," and he didn't want to go along with a school fecal examination because "Mommy says not to take my pants off in public." But generally speaking, he adapted to school life. By ninth grade, his teacher couldn't bear to have him graduate.

Yuan-lun has been very lucky. He was treated as a normal child by the whole family and accepted by our friends and relatives and even coddled sometimes because of his poor physique. He often goes with us to get-togethers with family and friends, to Western restaurants, Mongolian barbecue, dim sum, karaoke, bowling or a performance at the National Concert Hall. Every time we go to a big hotel, he likes to feel the tiles and play with the faucet in the restroom. It makes him very happy.

We take him traveling whenever we get the chance. When we went to Hualien, he flew on an airplane for the very first time. When the plane took off, he started yelling so loudly with fright that the stewardess came running over, thinking something had happened. The second time, when we flew to Penghu, he was much better. And when I took him to Thailand this summer, he even ordered dinner on the airplane himself. During our seven days there I was worried about our safety and sanitation, but he loved it.

He can be sneaky sometimes, too. As soon as the watermelon is served, he takes a bite out of each piece before the rest of us have a chance to eat it. And he won't sit still until the meat dish is on the table, because he always wants to sit in front of it. "Who's slow?" his sister says. "He's clever as anything!"

A day in the life: Yuan-lun is now a third-year student at his special education high school. He can take good care of himself and has regular habits, so I don't have to trouble myself over him much. He gets out of bed at six o'clock, washes and dresses, and at 6︰55 I send him off for the bus to school.

There are three sections at school--gardening, cooking and woodworking--and Yuan-lun is in gardening, where he learns the names of flowers and how to plant them. He also studies Chinese, English, math and other subjects. In addition, the school offers him a class in speech therapy, to meet his special needs.

He gets out of school at five. I don't see him when I go to meet him on the way home now sometimes because he knows how to change his way back instead of following the fixed route I told him.

After he comes home and puts his things away, he picks up the phone. He makes three regular calls. The first is to his grandmother, to see how she is. The next is to Auntie's house, to chat with his 2-1/2-year-old cousin. And the third is to my office at the Hsin Lu Foundation, to tell me he has come home.

Then he turns on the radio, has some milk an cookies and listens to the Chin Ching program When I get home at 6︰30, he helps me fix dinner, turning on the microwave according to my instructions. After dinner, he goes to his room to do his homework. Sometimes he uses his fingers to figure the addition and subtraction questions. Sometimes he copies out his Chinese. When he's done, he listens to the radio until it's bedtime.

Happy birthday, son: Yuan-lun's very interested in music. He used to listen to children's songs, but now he likes his sister's pop songs in English and Chinese. I used to use buying a tape as a reward for good behavior, but that doesn't work very well any more because he has a lot of them already and he's crazy about the radio. Chin Ching and Tang Yao are his idols, and he even writes to them. As a result, the most effective punishment I have for him now is: confiscate the radio. That works. It doesn't take long before he comes forward and admits he was wrong.

People ask me, "What will your son do after graduation?" Yuan-lun isn't very employable, to be honest. Maybe I'll have him take vocational training, or maybe I'll quit my job at the foundation and go work along with him. I haven't decided yet. But it's not that important to me whether or not he works. I just hope he's happy.

Despite the hardship over these past 20 years, Yuan-lun has brought all of us in the family great joy. I often use my son as an example in encouraging parents of children with Down's syndrome: "Don't be discouraged. Your child has started early and can certainly be taught to do better than mine!"

What I finally want to say is: Happy birthday, Yuan-lun!

[Picture Caption]

Happy mother and son! Don't we make a pair?

Yuan-lun drew this picture on the subject "My Family." He has two older sisters, so why did he draw just one? Because the eldest is off studying overseas.

Yuan-lun is getting a bit chubby, so his mother often turns to threats, cajoling and compromise to have him drink less cola and get more exercise.

When he gets home from school, Yuan-lun listens to the radio, does his homework and waits for Mother to come home and fix dinner.

Yuan-lun drew this picture on the subject "My Family." He has two older sisters, so why did he draw just one? Because the eldest is off studying overseas.

Yuan-lun is getting a bit chubby, so his mother often turns to threats, cajoling and compromise to have him drink less cola and get more exercise.

When he gets home from school, Yuan-lun listens to the radio, does his homework and waits for Mother to come home and fix dinner.