Made just for us

I read a beautiful story last night written by a mama remembering the moment the ultra sound tech discovered that the child growing within her - her second child, another son - had Down Syndrome. It was not the news her and her husband expected to be sharing with others when they left the doctor's office that day. They only thought of boy or girl. They were not prepared for anything other.

The mama goes on to write about her experience coming to terms with the grief of growing a child she knew would be challenged - by both his own disabilities and the judgments of others - while at the same time loving and bonding with the being growing within.

It was beautifully written, and I can't stop thinking about her final words.

No, at this point in my life, I can't begin to relate to her experiences or understand her emotions. However, I have been having a bit of my own struggle.

During those few minutes that my body rest on the table to receive the ultrasound that would reveal that I would not be delivering a baby at the end of July, I knew almost instantly that something was wrong. I went from joy to sadness. As the doctor tried a few different times to find a heartbeat, I knew in my own that only bad news would follow.

In the days leading up to the procedure, Papa and I tried to maintain a happy and healthy attitude within our home. At night, we would discuss the situation at hand. Afterward, we would continue on as we always have.

I'm trying to find a place of comfort with this loss. I'm keeping myself out of the deep cracks depression can drag you in to. I have been there before, after losing my first pregnancy, and I now know what a hard journey one has to find your way out. I've learned that I can't change this. As much as I want to be pregnant, sadness and anger will not bring it back. I won't wake up tomorrow pregnant - at least not with the baby I was carrying before.

But that is the problem. Last week's doctor's visit revealed that my body is still full of pregnancy hormones. It is hard to tell your heart to let go when your brain will not. On the flip side, all reports from the lab came back just as they should. It was no fault of my body's that this pregnancy failed, unlike my first miscarriage which occurred because my body simply was not ready to be pregnant nor did I have enough hormones to support a pregnancy. This time, it was just nature's way of letting us know that this baby should not join us here - for whatever reason.

It also offered us hope and reminded us to love what we have. Papa thinks it is easier this time because we have our Lane. I agree. We look at him with a renewed sense of love. A renewed sense of appreciation. A renewed sense of devotion to offer him the best life we are capable of providing.

And to hopefully provide a sibling to love just as much as we love him. For as much as that pregnancy - and then the news that followed - was unexpected there is joy to be found.

We already have just what we asked for. A boy who looks like his papa. Who laughs like his mama. Who insists upon having his own way. Who loves to walk and enjoys going down slides. Who is the perfect combination of both of us yet uniquely his own self. Who was made just for us.

I am not sure why I keep thinking about these words, written by Jennifer Byard, when describing her son Ben, her second of three sons. Her child with Down Syndrome.

"His tiny ears, his adorable little nose, his precious little hands, all created just for our family....Above all we’ve learned that the things in life that you would never ask for are the most joyful things of all..."

I guess it is because after the disappointing occurrences of last month, I am reminded of what an amazing gift we received when we were given Lane. I also have faith that one day we will have another child who will be perfect in every way and made just for us.

You can read Jennifer's full post here.