Recently I ran into an acquaintance while out w/ my family. She had never met Lydia before, & immediately commented on how cute she is, her sweetness & purity. I agreed & answered, “Yes, having her is a constant gift.” The woman then paused before stating matter-of-factly, as if to check my expectations, “It will be harder when she’s older, though.”
Stunned, I simply acknowledged “yes,” then listened to her detail the struggles of an adult w/ DS that she had observed in a singular setting.
These are moments that probably don’t seem significant to anyone else, but that unexpectedly knock me off my feet. Kindness that whiplashes into judgement. Such moments esp. cause me to confront the trauma of L’s birth diagnosis & all the deep fears I initially harbored regarding her future & ours. The work I had to do initially to cast off stereotypes, prejudice, & statistics, & to lean into love.
The woman walked away but left me w/ my mind racing. I faced, as I have a 1000x before, all the “what if’s.” “What if L can never feel comfortable or behave ‘normally’ in public?” “What if her health declines?” “What if she never achieves typical milestones & lives a limited, sad, insignificant life?” “What if it all becomes too much for both of us?” What if, what if, what if.
Your mother-heart breaks at such thoughts. But God knows a mother’s heart. I believe that motherhood opens a special channel between an imperfect woman & the divine—I have felt it with each of my children & even more w/ L. Revelation that whispers & warns & comforts & strengthens in ways that always, always prove a perspective more expansive & accurate than my own. In this moment of heart-sinking fear, God sent me a scripture:
“Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord the God is with thee withersoever thou goest” (Joshua 1:9 KJV).
It came is such a way that I knew it was from heaven, not from me, & immediately I breathed easier. I let the what if’s go. Because when God is w/ me, “whom [or what] should I fear?” And He was telling me it would be ok. He was speaking peace.
Later that day I snuggled my sweet daughter before she took a nap. She leaned into me in a way that is uniquely hers, w/ a special kind of peace & purity & love. Our connection is unique & eternal. Resting there I realized all that woman could never know—the sheer sacred beauty of THIS—the incredible joy that comes from having a special needs child.
