It couldn’t be more different—the spectacle, emotions, support—than when she was born. This is what we deserved all along…
Let’s back up.
Remembering Lydia’s birth, 3 words stand out:
Silence. Overwhelming silence. I was in shock, & no one would look at or speak to me. No chatty nurses. No congrats or cooing over her cuteness. No explanations over why she looked different to me. Just a quiet “Someone from the NICU will be down shortly.” Almost none of my nurses mentioned my baby during my entire stay until I finally, desperately had to KNOW IF THEY KNEW and if we could speak about the UNSPEAKABLE THING: “My baby has Down Syndrome!” Silence brings shame.
Darkness. She came in the middle of the night. After the bright lights of the delivery room, my recovery room seemed pitch black. My thoughts were black. My heart was broken & black. Our future was burned over black. Everything inside & outside, eyes opened or closed or spilling w/ tears, was black.
Loneliness: After the birth they took Lydia to the NICU & they took me to my room. And they left me there all night. No visitors. I don’t even remember a nurse checking on me though maybe that’s because of the shock. I just remember being alone, w/ all my terror. For hours.
Back to today…
True, a lot of things burned down 5 yrs ago. But a lot more has grown or been built back in their place.
Isolating silence has been replaced w/ either cheers, or instructive meditation. While silence isn’t always gone, it isn’t as pervasive. I try to open my mouth so that the shame of silence/misunderstandings never win.
The darkness has been replaced by brilliant LIGHT & perspective. I see farther & more clearly than before. I’m grateful for what I learned in the dark. I try to keep my eyes wide open to Lydia’s light & to never let them grow “used to it.”
The loneliness is transformed. There is support & love. There are hearts & hands & souls who want my girl to succeed almost as much as I do. Lydia’s PT came up & said hi to her today. I hugged several of my friends that I don’t get to see or hug often enough. There is PURPOSE and place for my girl and I both. As we walked down a sidewalk lined w/ individuals who clapped & cheered for MY GIRL, my eyes filled w/ tears. This is the vision & truth that should have existed all along:
You are loved, you are loved, you are loved. We all belong.