Monday, December 29, 2014

Three Years Ago...

This morning I was lying in bed, snuggling with my sweet Vallyn. (I brought her into bed with me because I was just not ready to get up yet!)  We are at my parents’ house celebrating Christmas with my family.  I was tickling Vallyn when it struck me hard: – three years ago I had been lying in this same bed, but I didn’t know yet that it was ‘D Day’.  The day I got the phone call that rocked my world and changed my life forever. 


Diagnosis Day.


December 29, 2011.


I had been up in the mountains with my family and we had just celebrated Christmas together.  It was a regular morning: I’d gotten up, had breakfast and was hanging out.  Jason had gone into work down in Denver but was coming back up that evening.  The phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.  It was our perinatologist.  I was surprised to hear from her.  I mean, not really, because I had taken the MaterniT-21 test the week before, but I thought it would take longer for the results to come back.  Apparently not. 


I still can’t remember exactly what transpired.  I answered, we greeted each other, she said “Your test results are back” or something like that.  I remember clearly though she said “It’s positive.”  Then she paused.  In that pause somehow my mind said “Oh, it’s positive.  Positive is good.  The last test I had taken that was positive had been very good!


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But then she said “I’m so sorry.”


And I realized.  Positive means my baby girl has Down Syndrome.  I don’t recall exactly what happened next.  I may have cried out or screamed “No!  My baby!”  My sister and mom came running into the room.  Then my dad.  The doctor was saying things like “I have some resources for you and we can do an amniocentesis to be certain…” but I only half heard her.  I fell to the floor, crying, shouting.  I vaguely remember eventually thanking her for calling and hanging up the phone. 


I admit I had some terrible thoughts.  I am still ashamed to this day of my thoughts – the memory of them breaks my heart into a million pieces.  But I was terrified.  I thought my life was over.  I had never known anyone with Down syndrome.  I thought my baby girl would never have much of a life.  I don’t know what I thought exactly was going to happen but in no way did I think it would be good.  I felt as though my baby – at least the one I had thought I was going to have, the one I had imagined in my mind for 22 weeks – had died, and that I could just curl up and die too. 


Boy, was I ever wrong. 


Looking back, what I wish the very most was that at that moment of receiving the news about Vallyn, that I had seen a brief flash forward to what this morning would be like and feel like. 


I WISH I COULD HAVE SEEN TODAY. 


THIS morning. 


Because I still would have cried. 


But any tears I shed would have been of joy. 


If only I could have seen myself, lying in this bed, holding this precious angel in my arms, what our life would be together.  Giggling with her.  Smiling.  Hugging and kissing her.  Getting hugs and kisses back.  Singing with her.  All the sign language that she knows – more than me.  How funny she is.  How tough.  How sassy.  How frustrating.  How endearing.  How clever.  How stubborn.  How hard working.  How loving.  Feeling so much love in my heart for her that it could explode.   
 
I would have wept tears of gratitude. 


This little girl has brought so much joy into our lives.  Into others’ lives.  To the people she has met in the last two years and seven months.  The smiles she has caused. 
Joy like watching people’s reaction to her as she rolled down the street in the Highland Festival Parade this past September, the joy that she brought complete strangers, even if just for a moment.  She smiled and waved and clapped and blew kisses all along the way.  She wore herself out completely by the end of the route. 

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When Vallyn was a baby (oh, ok I admit it – this happened just the other day!) I would often sit and hold her and stare at her and just burst into tears.  And not because anything was wrong – I just love her so very much that the emotion has nowhere to go but out.  I would tell her
 
“Mommy loves you so much that it’s leaking out of my eyes.”


Oh, yes, there have been plenty of tears along our own little parade route so far.  Both happy and sad tears.  And I know there will be more to come – of both.  But the smiles and giggles have outweighed the tears, and the love and joy and marvel at this beautiful miracle of a child have far surpassed the fear and grief.  


So on this day, exactly three years later, as it has been since the moment I knew she was in my belly, one of my greatest gifts is the love and lessons of our sweet Vallyn.  And to have a little brother for her now gives us two incredibly amazing gifts.  (He makes my eyes leak love too!). 

Forget other presents; these two are priceless. 

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Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.  May God bless you richly and may you have much joy! 

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