I guess I'd always thought, knew, that we'd have a later in life baby. I just didn't know how special he would be. I didn't know then just how immense my love for him would be. And I didn't know that he would have Down syndrome. But one year ago today, I knew. It was one year ago today that I sat in this very same chair and asked the Beloved Dr S over the phone, "Does the baby have Down syndrome?" He said, "Yes, my dear. He does have Down syndrome. I wish there was better news, but that is what we have."
When we were pregnant with Hannah I thought that she was our third baby. Our later in life baby. And when we lost her, I just couldn't understand how that innate knowledge I'd always carried with me could have been so wrong. So, so very wrong. We had three dogs, fawn, tricolor, and blue. We had three cats who were also by happy circumstance, orange, calico and gray. We had two kids, brunette and brown eyed, and blonde and blue eyed. How could we lose our third child? They were supposed to be a matched set. Kids, cats, dogs. Even our goldfish were orange, tricolor and gray for crying out loud. It was a nutty way to think about it back then and it still is today, but there it is. There's just no accounting for how one feels in the face of such anguish.
One evening after we lost Hannah, The Beloved and I were grieving together and he said something odd that made no sense. "I guess the psychic was wrong." What? He doesn't believe in such stuff. So he explained that a long, long time ago he and his best friend were out carousing and decided to waste some hard earned money on the all night psychic and tarot reader next door to the club they were bufoonerizing in. The psychic looked at his palm and said he would have three kids. "So, I guess she was wrong."
From the first moments I knew I was pregnant, even before the pee-stick did it's thing, I knew Jack would be Downy. I apologize to any of you lovely parents out there who take offense to my calling him this. He is My Duck, My Gosling, My Cygnet, and therefore I am qualified as the mother of this beautiful boy to call him Downy, here in the privacy of my heart, if I want to. But on that day one year ago, I did not feel quite this way.
I won't go into those days of despair. You can read about it here and here if you'd like. No, I'd much rather talk about how awesome it's been since the moment Jack took his first breaths. But hey...that's why I blog! Showing Down syndrome in all of it's rightful glory just may help some scared, frightened parents-to-be decide to continue with their own Down syndrome pregnancy.
I can say with a free and clear heart that Jack is one of the best things that has ever come into my life, our lives. He is a beautiful and sweet baby and full of life and bursting with love to give. He starts the day smiling and cooing and frequently gives me one of his trademark sly grins before settling to sleep in my arms at the end of the day. It's as if he's saying, "I'll see you later, sweet cheeks!" So...go read the blog! I wanted to say something on this momentous day, but unless a lightning bolt of brilliance strikes me, this is all there is.
I guess the psychic was right after all.
From underneath the trees, we watch the sky, confusing stars for satellites. I never dreamed that you'd be mine, but here we are - we're here tonight; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive!...And in the air, the fireflies, our only light in paradise. We'll show the world that they were wrong, and teach them all to sing along; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive...And as we lie beneath the stars, we realize how small we are. If they could love like you and me, imagine what the world could be.
- Nickelback, If Everyone Cared
For All The Right Reasons Album
And I'm singing "Aaa-ayyy-men, I'm alive!"
When we were pregnant with Hannah I thought that she was our third baby. Our later in life baby. And when we lost her, I just couldn't understand how that innate knowledge I'd always carried with me could have been so wrong. So, so very wrong. We had three dogs, fawn, tricolor, and blue. We had three cats who were also by happy circumstance, orange, calico and gray. We had two kids, brunette and brown eyed, and blonde and blue eyed. How could we lose our third child? They were supposed to be a matched set. Kids, cats, dogs. Even our goldfish were orange, tricolor and gray for crying out loud. It was a nutty way to think about it back then and it still is today, but there it is. There's just no accounting for how one feels in the face of such anguish.
One evening after we lost Hannah, The Beloved and I were grieving together and he said something odd that made no sense. "I guess the psychic was wrong." What? He doesn't believe in such stuff. So he explained that a long, long time ago he and his best friend were out carousing and decided to waste some hard earned money on the all night psychic and tarot reader next door to the club they were bufoonerizing in. The psychic looked at his palm and said he would have three kids. "So, I guess she was wrong."
From the first moments I knew I was pregnant, even before the pee-stick did it's thing, I knew Jack would be Downy. I apologize to any of you lovely parents out there who take offense to my calling him this. He is My Duck, My Gosling, My Cygnet, and therefore I am qualified as the mother of this beautiful boy to call him Downy, here in the privacy of my heart, if I want to. But on that day one year ago, I did not feel quite this way.
I won't go into those days of despair. You can read about it here and here if you'd like. No, I'd much rather talk about how awesome it's been since the moment Jack took his first breaths. But hey...that's why I blog! Showing Down syndrome in all of it's rightful glory just may help some scared, frightened parents-to-be decide to continue with their own Down syndrome pregnancy.
I can say with a free and clear heart that Jack is one of the best things that has ever come into my life, our lives. He is a beautiful and sweet baby and full of life and bursting with love to give. He starts the day smiling and cooing and frequently gives me one of his trademark sly grins before settling to sleep in my arms at the end of the day. It's as if he's saying, "I'll see you later, sweet cheeks!" So...go read the blog! I wanted to say something on this momentous day, but unless a lightning bolt of brilliance strikes me, this is all there is.
I guess the psychic was right after all.
From underneath the trees, we watch the sky, confusing stars for satellites. I never dreamed that you'd be mine, but here we are - we're here tonight; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive!...And in the air, the fireflies, our only light in paradise. We'll show the world that they were wrong, and teach them all to sing along; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive...And as we lie beneath the stars, we realize how small we are. If they could love like you and me, imagine what the world could be.
- Nickelback, If Everyone Cared
For All The Right Reasons Album
And I'm singing "Aaa-ayyy-men, I'm alive!"
Post script: A brilliant flash of light did strike this morning, in the form of an e-mail from Bits the Bestest! I will create a page just for it and link to it when I have it finished. I love you too Bits!
1 comment:
It's so interesting how "3" seems to be your lucky number. Reminds me of a friend of mine who says that everything and everyone beginning with the letter "J" has brought good luck in his life. And he was right. I guess it's how the world and fate works sometimes. How blessed you are to have Jack!
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