Two paths, one home

When I first held my firstborn son, Števko, time stood still. He was born with Down syndrome and changed our world in ways we could never have imagined. He brought into our lives a love that is pure, quiet, and yet incredibly strong. He has become our teacher of patience, joy in simple things, and unconditional acceptance. Some things in life can’t be planned, but they give deeper meaning than all our expectations combined.

Recently, we welcomed little Kristiánko into our family. His arrival was calm, filled with anticipation, tenderness, and immense gratitude. Holding him in my arms, I felt that miracle again, but a different one this time. No diagnoses, no worries, just pure joy in new life. And yet, at the same time, something profound was growing inside me: the realization that even though my sons are very different, each is unique. Each has brought a different color, a different melody, a different truth into our lives.

It’s not always easy to be a father to two boys with such different needs. Števko needs more patience, a slower pace, gentleness. Kristiánko is full of movement, discovery, and novelty. And I am between them, trying to listen, perceive, respond. Sometimes I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, balancing what each of them needs with what I can give. But every day, both call me to love; love that’s not conditional, not hasty, but enduring; the kind that knows how to wait, to look into their eyes, and simply be present.

The most beautiful moments are when I see them together. When Števko smiles at his little brother. When he tries to hand him a toy or gently strokes his head. When Kristiánko gazes at him with huge curiosity. In those moments, a sense of peace washes over me, and I feel their journey will be shared, not necessarily the same, but together. And that is more than I could ever have wished for.

People sometimes ask me how we manage life with a son who has Down syndrome. The truth is, it’s a different life, but not a worse one. Maybe I should be asking myself: how would we manage life without him? Without his smile, his love, that quiet strength he brings each day? And now, with Kristiánko, I understand even more that every child is a gift, each one unique. And it’s precisely in that diversity that the beauty, fullness, and meaning of life is revealed.

I have two sons. One with Down syndrome. One without. But I don’t have one “special” and one “normal.” I have two extraordinary boys. Each of them teaches me to love differently, to live differently, to trust differently. And for that I am immensely grateful.