It started with one little girl.
In May 2020, we welcomed our daughter, Sammie, into the world. Within minutes, the future we had imagined suddenly looked very different.
We left the hospital with more questions than answers.
Prior to Sammie's arrival, we had no indication that she would be born with Down syndrome or several health concerns. In a matter of minutes, we went from believing we would be taking home a healthy, typically developing baby to learning that our newborn had a genetic diagnosis and some significant health concerns.
What should have been a joy-filled time became overshadowed by an overwhelming number of questions and fears.
We were surrounded by caring and encouraging doctors, nurses, and staff. But when we left the hospital, we had very few resources to help us understand what came next.
What do we do now? Where do we go from here? Who do I call? What appointments do I need to make? What is life going to look like? Is Sammie going to be okay?
Eventually, we stopped worrying about our future with Sammie and started dreaming about it.
We found answers. We connected with other families in the Down syndrome community. And little by little, the fear surrounding Sammie's diagnosis began to be replaced by an understanding of the beautiful life ahead of us.
But we couldn't stop thinking about the families who would come after us — families sitting in prenatal clinics and hospital rooms with the same questions we had.
They needed more than a definition of Down syndrome. They needed practical resources, connection, encouragement, and someone to remind them that there was so much to celebrate.
That desire became Rising Kites.
What started with a desire to support the next family has grown into so much more.
Rising Kites began by providing resource bags to medical facilities so families receiving a Down syndrome diagnosis could immediately receive encouragement, education, and resources for the journey ahead.
Today, that mission has grown. We continue to walk alongside families from the moment of diagnosis while also creating community, meaningful paid employment, and opportunities for individuals with disabilities to grow, contribute, connect, and share their gifts.
Encouragement from diagnosis
Free prenatal and postnatal resource bags help families receiving a Down syndrome diagnosis feel supported from the very beginning.
Community along the journey
Connection, resources, and support help families find people who understand their lives without needing an explanation.
Meaningful opportunities
Paid employment and other opportunities give individuals with disabilities places to grow, contribute, connect, and share their gifts.
One little girl started something pretty incredible.
And every number represents a person, a family, or a story.
The future we were once afraid of became a future we couldn't imagine without.
The questions and fears we carried in those first days feel very different from where we stand today.
Sammie has shown us that a Down syndrome diagnosis is not the end of a story. It is simply part of one — a story filled with joy, growth, challenges, relationships, opportunities, and a whole lot worth celebrating.
And she continues to be at the heart of why Rising Kites exists.
The little girl who changed everything.
Rising Kites wouldn't exist without Sammie. This is a little more of the story of the days that changed our family forever — and ultimately inspired the work we do today.
We had waited a long time for our little girl.
Matt, Louis, and I were on vacation on the coast of Maine when we found out we were pregnant with Sammie. After two miscarriages and another year of trying, we were relieved and excited to learn that we would be adding another little one to our family the following spring.
My pregnancy was thankfully without major complications. Sammie was growing and looked healthy at each ultrasound. We had no idea just how much our lives were about to change.
And then she was here.
At 37 weeks, we learned Sammie was breech. An attempt to turn her was unsuccessful and put me into early active labor. Later that evening, it was determined that I would need a C-section.
Within minutes of being rolled into the operating room, I heard our daughter's cries. Our Sammie girl had arrived.
When I saw her, I knew something was different. Eventually I looked at one of the nurses and asked, "Does she have Down syndrome?"
The room became quiet. A doctor calmly explained that Sammie appeared to have some markers for Down syndrome and that the pediatrician would come talk with us.
There was joy. And there was grief. And somehow, there was room for both.
For those first few hours, I kept telling myself, "It's okay. It's okay."
The next morning, the emotions really hit. A pediatrician came to talk with us about Sammie's diagnosis and told us something I needed to hear: we needed space to mourn the child we thought we were going to have.
And the floodgates opened.
We cried. We processed. We learned about health concerns we hadn't anticipated. And through all of it, Sammie was simply our sweet newborn baby — eating, sleeping, and settling into our arms.
Our family and friends surrounded us with encouragement from afar. Matt and I kept saying the same thing to each other: "People are loving us so well."
And then we began figuring out what came next.
Sammie was doing incredibly well. She passed her screenings, was eating well, and two days after she was born, we were discharged from the hospital.
We headed home and began adjusting to life with our Sammie girl. Researching. Scheduling appointments. Asking questions. Navigating all that was new.
And then, later that week, I came across a photo that stopped me in my tracks.
We didn't know it then.
The photo was taken on the coast of Maine on the day we found out we were pregnant with Sammie.
Around that time, we had received a book for Louis called We'll Paint the Octopus Red, a story celebrating the relationship between two siblings — one of whom has Down syndrome.
And there we were in the photo, on the exact day we learned Sammie existed, flying a red octopus through the sky.
We didn't know it then. But we were already celebrating her.
That's what Rising Kites is here to do.
Celebrate the gift of Down syndrome. Encourage families from the very beginning. And create opportunities for individuals with disabilities to grow, connect, contribute, and share their gifts in ways that strengthen the communities around them.