Down syndrome and independent living. Clio's journey towards growth and autonomy

From school to work, from travel to managing everyday life: the story of a young woman who has built her independence thanks to opportunities, family support and trust in her skills

Clio was born on 3 July 2006. When Paola discovered she was pregnant, she was 41 and decided not to undergo amniocentesis. 'Whatever the result,' her parents recall, 'nothing would have changed our desire to welcome her. But I felt,' her mother continues, 'that she would be born with Down syndrome. I had feelings that were difficult to explain.' Confirmation came at birth, from a detail in her eyes and the doctors' hesitant expressions. Paola and Valerio spent a night in tears, alone in the hospital room. 'At one point we said to ourselves: why should this little girl see her parents crying because she has been born?' The next day Paola put on her nicest pyjamas and Valerio went out to buy pastries for the entire paediatric ward. A simple but powerful gesture, opening the door to life.

Growing up without barriers

The whole family immediately rallied around them. Brothers, grandparents and relatives came from different cities to meet her. Affection became the first tangible source of support in facing fears and uncertainties. Equally decisive was meeting a paediatrician who told them something that would change their perspective: 'Today you see a little girl and a big problem. As time goes by, the two will switch places.' 'Over time we realised that was exactly right,' Paola and Valerio say. 'From the outset we promised ourselves that we would set no limits, that we would fight for her to live an ordinary life and never be defined by the syndrome.' Clio grew up with her siblings Costanza, Federico and Lapo, sharing games, arguments, jokes and close bonds. No one treated her as fragile: 'We never overprotected her.' Her siblings also became an essential part of this journey. Costanza says that only as she grew older did she understand her instinct to protect her. Lapo, the sibling closest to her in age, now even celebrates her during his DJ nights, asking the audience to applaud his sister. 'Her brothers and sister have truly been an incredible resource for Clio, and she has been one for them.'

A full life

Everyday life became the setting in which Clio built her independence. She goes horse riding and climbing, travels extensively with her parents between Italy and France, visits museums and continually takes on new experiences. 'We tried,' her parents say, 'to let her do everything she wanted to do. At first the journey was not easy. Clio started speaking later than other children, found learning difficult and tended to withdraw into herself. We supported her, and in middle school she began to gain more confidence.' Her emotional intelligence emerged strongly: she quickly learned to read other people's moods, comfort those who were suffering and ease family tensions with a touch or a simple but disarming phrase. 'Sometimes,' Paola says, 'when I don't know how to behave, I look at her.' Another fundamental step came through work. 'Being independent,' Clio says, 'makes me proud of myself and makes me feel free. One of the best days of my life was when I started working in a hotel. The worst was when I knew the project was coming to an end, because I loved that job and that environment. Today I have found a new path that still makes me happy. Work allows me to be independent, to travel on public transport by myself, to meet new people and be among others.' 'Work,' her parents continue, 'has made her more responsible. She builds genuine relationships with colleagues and customers. First at the hotel and now at the bar, Clio approaches these work experiences with great commitment and seriousness. She understands that work helps strengthen her independence.' Clio travels independently, meets friends and manages a rich and active social life. It is an autonomy achieved step by step. 'Prejudices,' Paola and Valerio say, 'often begin with us parents, whose fears can prevent us from creating the right opportunities.' They do not deny their initial concerns. Valerio remembers nights spent searching the internet and imagining difficult scenarios. But every time he returned to his daughter, the problem gave way to the person. 'When I was away from her, I saw the syndrome. When I was with her, I simply saw my daughter, a little girl. Not trying to protect her from the world, but giving her the tools to move through it, allowing her to make mistakes, grow, work, travel and choose, has been vital for her.' Because Clio is not the syndrome she lives with. She is a cheerful, witty and empathetic young woman, able to recognise pain in others and restore hope with remarkable naturalness. And this is perhaps the most precious legacy of her story: a reminder that every person first needs to be seen for who they are, with their limitations, but above all with their possibilities.