inControl

At the risk of sounding cold, even heartless, I wasn’t one of those pregnant women who became misty at the first sound of my baby’s heartbeat.  My eyes did not well up with tears at my first ultra sound. I think I even saw sideways glances from the medical professionals in the room responding to my lack-luster emotional response.

When Everything Changed:
Despite all of this, I do remember the moment I recognized that I was indeed in love with my unborn child. It was Wednesday, October 5.  I know this vividly because it was the day I answered the call from the doctor’s office turning my world upside down. I received news that a blood test, called a quad screen, came back “high risk” for Down Syndrome. I was devastated.  Heartbroken.

After several conversations with the office, I had an appointment scheduled with a genetic specialist who would run further tests. It was eight days away. Eight days. Each conversation with the office was peppered with words of comfort. “Don’t worry. It was just a screening,” each doctor and nurse I spoke with would say. Right. Don’t worry. Don’t worry?

Only a few days before this call, I was weighing some ‘very important’ decisions. At a popular handbag retailer, I agonized between the “signature print” canvas or the leather diaper bag. Then there was the custom crib bedding fabric…should it be a houndstooth or trellis pattern? How could I be so shallow?  Pardon my language, but I felt like an asshole. Correction:  I felt like an {Caps Lock} ASSHOLE.

The Negotiator:
I began one of those prayers. You know, the ones that are really just ‘negotiations’ with God. I always did it in light of bad news. If He would make everything the way I wanted it, I would do “this or that” in return. I begged Him to let my baby be born free from this disorder. Free to to travel the world, to climb mountains, to create masterpieces, to change our universe, to do great things. I pleaded with the Lord to take my life… disable me… take something… take anything…take everything… but let my baby be born ‘normal.’

Ill-equipped:
I can only imagine that everyone who faces the risk (or reality) of raising a child with special needs feels ill-equipped. Let me elaborate on my inadequacies. I am not selfless. I am not patient. I lack empathy at times.  And, I really like to be in control. I already doubted my ability to parent any child! I never considered caring for an exceptional child. And my caring, positive, generous, sensitive husband, Scott, did not deserve this.

Several days after that fateful phone call, I was a fetal-maternal Down Syndrome specialist, certified by Google. I did find some good news.  I learned that of 1,000 women who have a quad screen, 40 will have a results indicating high risk for Down Syndrome. Of these 40, only one or two will actually have a baby with Down Syndrome. And, with no family history my sole risk factor was age. But still, what if I was one or two in forty.

The Guilt
Then again, what if I was not one or two in forty.  That means that someone else was. I tried to reconcile, “Why me?” versus “Why not me?” And how could I mourn a child I would not have, when I would have another who would be so perfect in their own way. Was it unreasonable to wish that my child could be “normal?” My feelings were so torn and so twisted. Every single sentiment began to feel wrong and egotistical. I felt like I was in an emotional experiment where every thought led me to a heavy, shameful heart.

From Negotiations to Prayers:
I started to change my prayers. I began asking for the Lord to take the worry off my heart. The fact is, I was not in control. I never was. I never will be.  I prayed that if His will was for Scott and I to have a child with Down Syndrome, then He equip us with strength and knowledge to be the parents this special child needs. The power of prayer was amazing, as I began to feel honored that God chose me…that He saw something in Scott and I and said, “I choose them for this perfect and exceptional gift from Me.” And while I still mourned some the experiences that my child (if born with Down Syndrome) would likely never have, I began to realize this:  My special little one would be free to travel the world, to climb mountains, to create masterpieces, to change our universe, to do great things…

Scott and I learned that our child did not have Down Syndrome at that appointment eight days following the call. Even greater, during that eight day wait we learned so much more.

We were blessed with our itzy-bitzy lady bug on January 2.