This post has been weighing on my mind for awhile, I struggled with whether putting it all out there has a purpose- but during this last week with tears not far & the date looming over, I have felt compelled to share...to share with myself mostly- to record how miraculous life is, because over time, sometimes even the most brilliant of moments can fade.
But I'd like to keep this one in a treasured little time capsule.
A year ago October 16th, while pregnant with Jack, we were given some pretty shocking news. For me, surprises usually come in two types- the kind where you think you must be dreaming or those that just come right on out & slap you in the face. This wasn't a slap, it was a punch.
During an ultrasound we were told our baby had a brain defect.
I knew something was wrong when the cheery technician switched the machine from the regular black & white grainy photos to the state of the art three dimensional mode, allowing us to see our baby's features & expressions. The tech had made a comment about these pictures allowing parents to "bond" with their babies in utero. Maybe it was the special education teacher in me, but I knew that phrase eluded to something more. Eventually, after much admiration of our baby's full lips, peacefully shut eyes, and squished up little body, he said the words all parents must fear during these appointments, "the doctor would like to speak with you in his office."
So as it all goes we were shown on the screen where there was indeed, a black void, where baby's brain had not developed. A specific area of the brain that qualifies for an official name, a diagnosis; Dandy-Walker syndrome. An ironically horrible name I immediately thought. Cruel almost. Of course, we were told that as with many deformities the resulting effects can appear along a spectrum. Suddenly, I felt catapulted from my somewhat comfortable position as a special educator to that of a parent of a child with special needs. My mind reeled & I thought, "this is why God led me in the path He did- to prepare me for this child."
Naturally, tears & shock & insomnia & love & prayers & anger & extreme attachment all came that morning and stayed for awhile. I'm proud of my husband & I for our response, it brought us closer together as a couple & gave me a warm sense of peace that perhaps I couldn't have known about our marriage unless this occurred. It was as if at that moment we really became parents.
I looked back into my pregnancy diary from that day & the weeks that followed & one thing I noticed in the letters to my baby was that a transformation took place within me. It was as though my past & my previous mistakes were erased, like my life really began- as though being a teacher, a daughter, a wife, a friend were just a prelude to what I really was meant to be- a mother to this child. At no time in my life have I felt such extreme attachment to another living being- I knew without a doubt that life had a new meaning- or more accurately- it finally had a meaning. And I knew that this baby would not face any challenge alone.
For reasons I will never know, our story takes a turn. Jack does not have a brain defect. Jack is a perfectly healthy, rambunctious, active, engaging, & loving 9 month-old who holds a powerful story. No one can really explain what happened; some folks write off the doctors & the tests- but I cannot erase the image of that black space on the screen, I know it was there. That along with other indicators all pointing to a congenital impairment or deformity have confirmed in me that something more amazing took place.
As a special education teacher I probably see 'disorders' and 'disabilities' and 'impairments' slightly differently than most folks.... some of the most joyous moments in my life have been in the presence of my students.
To me, the miraculous bit is not necessarily that Jack was born
without a brain defect, it is the mother I became thinking he did.
Here are some photos that tell the story: the ultrasound, at the hospital, Jack at 9 months taking in the world around him, and he & I on October 16th.
