The year the twins turned 2, I bought myself a pair of fake diamond earrings. It was an anniversary of sorts--at two years, premature babies "graduate" out of their adjusted ages, a correction meant to offset the discrepancy between the actual birth and what would have been the day of birth, if the baby had gone full-term. It also marked two years for me as the mother of a child with special needs.

I wore the fake diamonds for the first time to a party at my friend Sarah's house. It was an annual neighborhood event, with children running around, moms and dads chasing after them. Sarah met me at the door and noticed my earrings right away and called them "the twins," and said that I'd earned them. I was glad she made a little fuss, because I'd brought her a pair too, a set of one "karat" teardrops. I was feeling shy and nervous, because I wasn't sure what she'd think. But I wanted to share them with her anyway. I wanted to give her the message behind the gift, which was that she sparkled.

At first, Avery's diagnosis seemed devastating. I didn't have a good idea of what children with Down syndrome were like; the only people I knew were adults, and many had been raised in institutions, which was the common practice for a while. Part of coming to terms with the news was letting go of the Avery we'd imagined for the seven months of my pregnancy, in order to make way for this new Avery, someone we didn't know much about. Sarah helped me with that. When I told her about the diagnosis, she said simply, "I love you. You'll do great," which was exactly what I most needed to hear. I wasn't sure I could handle my new life, and I needed to see confidence reflected in the eyes of the people who knew me best.

Avery was presented to us as a list of increased risks: heart disease, thyroid trouble, leukemia, vision and hearing deficiencies, learning disabilities. What I didn't understand was that Down syndrome is like an umbrella--a diagnosis that describes likelihoods and tendencies based on probabilities, a bit like forecasting the weather. The child underneath the umbrella many have many, or few of these characteristics.

Avery is nearly 4, now. The Avery I've come to know is a shy boy who loves our elderly cat, Cosmo. Cosmo spends most of his days curled on the ottoman in the sunlight. I'll pass by and notice a Ritz cracker placed just so, or a tiny car, or a ballpoint pen tucked under Cosmo's paw--all the work of Avery, who has made it his business to tend to Cosmo. Or I'll find purple crayon marks on the wall behind the trash can; pencil scribbles on the floor beneath the rug. Again, the work of Avery, my boy who loves to draw. Life with Avery is many things--but mostly, it's not what I expected.

My husband Tom calls me a crow, because I love shiny, sparkly things. In the sunlight, my fake diamonds look like they have rainbows inside. In other light, they look like the cut glass I suppose they are, splitting things into a million pieces, showing me life in a way that's different from what I'm used to. That's the lesson of the fake diamonds--the world may not be exactly as I think. There might be something going on that I'm not able to see. I wear my fake diamonds and think, More shall be revealed.

Since the first pair, I've given out a dozen more, to women who inspire me by simply being themselves. The list includes my best friend since 8th grade, five friends from college, and an elderly, white-haired neighbor. My mother-in-law, my sister, and three women who are like sisters to me. A writer whose poems are her children--each one labored over, each one unique and a little surprising in the way all our children are a bit of a mystery to us, where they come from and how we are graced by their arrival. I don't know who will get the next gift, but I'm always on the lookout. Offering them is a little like offering a challenge: are you up to it? Everyone, so far, has said yes.

And what do the diamonds mean to the others? Mostly, I think they are a gift that's shared and in the sharing, it becomes better. Some of the women who have fake diamond earrings have given pairs to their friends, the women in their lives who help them remember who they are, and who they want to be. I like to think of it: scores of little presents sent out into the world where, like six degrees of separation, we are all only a few fake diamonds away from each other. Connected across the miles in a bright constellation, all of us, sparkling.