My husband, Jeff, and I were on the “five year plan”. You
know, the one where you plan to spend five years just the two of you? Yes, that
was us. And yes, we stuck to it, even amidst all the famous “when are you going
to have a baby?” questions that fall so easily off the tongues of strangers and
loved ones alike. I was excited to be pregnant, and thankfully, I had an easy
pregnancy (don’t hate me) and I know how blessed I was, especially after hearing
the stories of friends who had experienced just the opposite. Everything fell
into place so perfectly, the weekly growing belly pictures, the baby shower and
nursery, choosing a name, and each visit to the doctor. I would’ve done it a
hundred times over…
But I had this secret fear. One of those fears that silently
gnaws away at you, and no matter how hard you pray or wish it away, it remains,
and serves as a constant reminder that some things are just out of your
control. You see, my biggest fear about becoming a mom was having a child with
special needs. I was standing firm on that old phrase “God doesn’t give you
more than you can handle.” I was the first person to acknowledge that special
needs were beyond what I could handle and God would never give that to me.
Anything but special needs, God, you and I both know I can’t handle that. Nope, safe from that, check it off the list.
I remember it vividly. I was moments away from meeting
Reece, sitting in triage waiting for my 3:00pm emergency C-section. My mom was
waiting with me and after a long pause, I asked the question that brought my
secret, silent fear to the light. “What if he has special needs?” I can look
back and see, almost touch, those words coming from my mouth, because it was a
release. Like asking someone that question freed me from the bondage of that
fear I’d been carrying for nine months. I can’t tell you what my mom said, but I know
that she encouraged me, as she always does, with words that made me feel
confident and brave.
And then, at 3:04pm, my whole world changed. A tiny cry
filled the room, the most beautiful sound. “He’s here,” I whispered to myself,
Jeff holding my hand ever so tightly. The doctor carefully walked him over for
my first glimpse of my son, the moment I had been waiting for and I was ready.
Through tears, I stared at him, zeroing in on his eyes, they were the only
thing I could see and I knew something wasn’t right. The words ‘Down syndrome’
flashed in my mind and my heart started pounding violently, body numb with
fear, mind racing to the worst of places. My first glimpse of him was so fast,
I didn’t have time to study him, so I assured myself that my eyes had tricked
me, and that all newborns look a little funny because of what they have just
endured. I reminded myself that it can’t
be true, not until someone tells me or a test proves it, and I pushed that
terrible thought from my mind.
And then someone told me. “We have reason to believe that
your son may have Down syndrome.” I looked to Jeff, who had heard that same
phrase, all by himself, minutes before as I was still in surgery. I desperately
searched his face for something, anything, to know that our son was ok, but his
down trodden face said it all and immediately my spirit was crushed. I didn’t
hear anything the nurse said after that, except when she said “you know, SOME
of these kids go on to do really great things. I have a friend with an adult
son with Down syndrome and he has the intelligence of a 7th grader,
so that’s good news!” I didn’t cry. I didn’t speak. I didn’t anything. My joy…
stolen. I hadn’t even had the chance to really hold him, kiss him, or tell him
I loved him before a label was slapped on him. Had the nurse realized that what
was just business as usual to her, was my whole life crashing around me? When I
finally got to hold him, ‘DOWN SYNDROME’ was all I could see when I looked at
him. This was not the baby I had dreamed and this…this was not fair.
Questions filled my head as I sat there holding my new baby,
who seemed like a stranger to me, not the baby I had felt growing and kicking
inside. Hard-hitting, gut-wrenching, suck-the-breath-out-of-you questions like,
will everyone know by looking at him? Will he ever have friends? Will people
stare and make fun of him? Will he always live with me? Did I do something
wrong? And the biggest question of all, why ME? Thinking back to that question
I asked minutes earlier in triage…had I asked for this? Was God saying, “Yes,
you can handle this…and here, let me prove it to you.”
I was at a crossroads. I could either turn my back on God
because He hadn’t held up his end of the bargain or trust that He knows what He
is doing and has a plan for Reece and our family. I had to make a choice. Why
would I walk away from God now when He has blessed my life so immensely? And
that is when my question of ‘why ME?’ transformed into ‘WHY me?’ Why had God
chosen ME to be Reece’s mom? What is this innocent, sweet child going to teach
me about life? I consciously made the choice to fully rely on God to bring me
through this pain. There were hard days, weeks, months…and when I was at my lowest, God picked me up and carried me to a place of peace. When I said, “I’m afraid”, He quietly answered with “I am here.” Sometimes I think God lets us go through something challenging to remind us how strong we really are and how powerful He really is. God has this amazing way of changing hearts and giving us the strength to get through something we didn’t think we could handle. When I used to look at Reece, ‘DOWN SYNDROME’ was all I could see, and now…now, I see a sweet, world changer who has stolen the hearts of everyone who meets him.
Thank you, God, for granting me the grace to make this look easy, because there have been many tough days and unchartered roads ahead. But still, I will wait on you, Lord, to guide my steps through the unknown.