Knowing I would be induced, I thought a great deal about whether my baby was going to have Down syndrome. I obsessed about it. I was afraid of what it would mean, especially immediately after birth - if he would stay in the room with me, if he would nurse, if he would be in the NICU, if it would be different than my other babies' postpartum hospital stays. I know that is short sighted. I wasn't thinking about having Down syndrome for his whole life. Just the immediate future.
I was even concerned about if I would be able to focus during labor, or if I would be thinking all the time about whether he would have it. I needn't have worried. Labor is not about meeting your baby, it's not about ending a pregnancy, it is about labor only. Nothing else.
But when he was born, and was across the room with my husband and the nurse and the doctor and they were all talking, I could hear my ob pointing out all the reasons he didn't have it, and I was fine. I didn't care. I don't know if I would have cared if he did, but I didn't care that he didn't.
They walked across the room to weigh him, and I saw him, for the first time, on the scale, and I gasped at how big and healthy and gorgeous he was. And then they brought him over and I held him, and I wept for relief, just that he was alive and here and mine. And I told him how glad I was to see him and how I've been thinking of him all day and all night and how happy I was to finally meet him. And it had nothing to do with chromosomes.
In the next couple days at the hospital, I took inventory, and wished I was the kind of mama that always did that, but I'm not. I wished I had a couple other of my newborns to compare him to, but I didn't. Is the skin on the back of his neck thicker? Is the gap between his toes big? (Never mind that Jambo's big toe gap was so big, we said he had opposing big toes.) Do his ears seem low, (do they wobble . . . ) or small, or folded over? Is he like our other people? Well, no, he is himself. And all the time I usually spend trying to figure out who he looks like was spent trying to figure out if he looked like, well, like he had Down syndrome.
I don't think he does.
In the hospital, he didn't poop very often, but not concerning, and he didn't pee that much, but I didn't worry. When we came home, I got concerned about his output, started adding an ounce of formula, then pumped mama milk after feedings, to make sure he was taking enough in. Then the inevitable nursing strike came, a 3 hour argument between mom and son (I won). Then we did the old SNS with pumped milk for another day, but that is not sustainable. All the time wondering - is this Ds? Is he one of those kids that doesn't look like he has it, and doesn't seem like he has it, but has sluggish bowels and a weak suck?
But I don't think he has it. Tomorrow we will have blood drawn and an ultrasound on his "renal" system, to make sure, to get it off the radar, and out of my mind. But I am pretty sure it will be negative.
And I have peace. I am content. I do not know what the journey was for, and I don't need to know right now. I feel a tiny bit silly for dragging everyone there, but not a lot, because of the critical moment it is in the world of Down syndrome diagnoses. I think, if our potential has raised awareness for anyone, as it obviously has for us, then it is worth it.
I am nearer my God for the journey, and that is good. I am nearer my husband, and my children, and that is also good. And if, someday, God really does place one of those treasures in my womb or my heart and in my arms, that will also be very good.
He is always good. Even when He seems not to be, when He seems silent, or absent, or cruel (have you noticed my servant Job?) still He is good. He cannot be other than He is. And He is good.
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