Let me be clear from the start: Benedetta doesn't need us grandmothers. We need her. This isn't rhetoric or sentiment. It's the simple truth we've lived with every day for eight years now. From the very beginning, we never held back. Despite our limits and weaknesses, we rolled up our sleeves and threw ourselves—body and soul—into this incredible, beautiful, sometimes heartbreaking adventure that Benedetta has called us to live. We had no preparation for it. There are no courses, after all, for grandmothers with granddaughters who have Down syndrome. Or any other disability.
Benedetta's unstoppable energy, her fierce hunger to live and be present no matter what, forced us to reckon quickly with realities we'd never imagined. In short: we had to learn on the fly to be "special" grandmothers because Benedetta is special. We were there first and foremost—sentinels of hope—through the long hospital stays. Especially after the surgery on her third day of life to reconstruct her intestine, and later, at age two, when she had leukemia. And yet—strange as it sounds—even in those moments on the edge, it was Benedetta who gave us the strength to hope and push forward. It was agonizing not to see her, not to be at her side, above all when she was in isolation. Only her parents could enter that room, and they were there day and night. We did what we could to support them. But mostly we prayed—harder and more intensely than we ever had in our lives. The news of her complete recovery brought us even more joy than her birth had. As they say: Benedetta was born twice.
Today it fills us with endless joy to see her bursting with energy, with activities and friendships, thriving in second grade, already able to read and write. And above all—to see her happy. Always cheerful, smiling, capable of gestures of tenderness that catch us off guard. Like when she literally makes us go to the hairdresser so we look nice, as she puts it.
Grandpa, you're handsome—I love you!
Benedetta challenges us. She forces us to look inside ourselves. She won't let us slip into routine. Giving her opportunities to grow in every way means standing beside her not carelessly but with full awareness. Even in play. It's a way of life with no days off—there are no holidays in a "job" that is first and foremost a sharing of love. So we are building—the work is never done—a relationship in which we grandmothers find ourselves in debt. However much we do, however fully we give ourselves, the truth is simple: Benedetta gives us far more in return. She gives us life, strength, hope, vitality. She won't let us surrender to discouragement or the temptation to give up as time slips away relentlessly. She makes us feel the weight of the years less heavily. We can't afford to sit in an armchair doing nothing because Benedetta is our mission. So we grandmothers are a bit like those famous Blues Brothers—or rather, the Blues Sisters—on a mission for Benedetta.
Being and becoming the grandmothers of Benedetta is rather easy, because Benedetta herself teaches us the craft. She certainly has the commanding touch—always ready to tell us precisely how things should be done. The affection she shows us is truly impressive. It pours out not just in countless kisses and hugs, but in a constant, attentive, gentle presence. Take her relationship with her grandfather—it's incredibly tight. He's been nearly infirm for some time after a stroke. Benedetta visits him every day. She throws her arms around his neck and showers him with kisses and attention. She helps him stand and walk, holding his hand. With him she never has a tantrum; she coddles him with a thousand small gestures of tenderness. "Grandpa, you're handsome—I love you," she tells him over and over, making him cry and laugh both. And somehow giving him energy he didn't know he had. When Benedetta arrives, it's as if he comes back to life. He gets to his feet, tries to be present, tries to speak. So were we perhaps not exaggerating at the start of this reflection when we said it is Benedetta who helps her grandparents, not the other way around?
God's gaze upon her
The Lord has looked upon Benedetta, and the great things that happen through her are the work of a God who shows no partiality. Through Benedetta's life we can testify that truly "all is grace." From suffering can burst forth a calm and irreversible force of life. Jesus continues to call suffering to its exodus from desperate futility, to become—when united with his—a source of positive good, of expiation and blessing. In suffering there is a rich wisdom of God. Benedetta's life remains incomprehensible without a particular grace: truly God's gaze is upon her. And from all of this we can draw an instruction that is healing, fruitful, and ever more full of good.
Now, how can this cascade of beauty, of life and grace be called a "misfortune"? And yet it is sadly well known that when the now-exaggerated, systematic, and "socially obligatory" prenatal tests reveal even the remotest possibility of "imperfection," abortion seems to become almost a "moral" duty. Perhaps in those moments, grandmothers and grandfathers could help people choose life instead of death. In a world where the words "motherhood" and "fatherhood" are certainly out of fashion (in reality, if not in theory), it is not difficult for those who responsibly choose or accept having a child to live these states of being almost as a privilege—with a particular emotional intensity that is rich with meaning and therefore decisive for one's own life. This is a conversation that extends to the whole family.
If it were possible, we would wish for every prospective parent—and every prospective grandparent too—to have a child like Benedetta (and we hope that after these words it's a bit clearer why). But each person has their own particular path to walk for the enrichment of all. So our heartfelt wish becomes this instead: may every mother and every father—every grandmother and grandfather—live with an intensity at least equal to ours (in this we are fortunate because Benedetta helps us do it) the daily experience of motherhood and fatherhood, together with the calm and responsible awareness of the beauty and dignity of our humble task.
We grandmothers can testify—beyond religious conviction and legal norms—that there is no greater horror, no greater scandal than not allowing such a great treasure to be born. A real treasure. No one has ever questioned Benedetta's right to live. Not even during pregnancy. Benedetta feels this love that has wrapped around her from the beginning, and all of us—family and friends—have felt her love in return from the very start. In short: without hiding fears and problems, our lives without Benedetta would have been different and certainly worse.
