miracle |ˈmirikəl|
noun
a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency
My pregnancy with Matthew was marked with lots of statistics, all with negative prospects. The diagnosis of Down syndrome carried with it a 30% chance of miscarriage or a stillborn birth. And despite having a cerclage stitch in place, there was still the danger of pre term labor, which could mean serious complications or miscarriage. After a while it was hard to imagine that something bad wasn’t going to happen. This is when I have a difficult time striking a balance between faith and science. It’s easier for me to believe what the numbers say than it is to believe in the possibility of other outcomes that science can’t predict (i.e. miracles!).
After learning the results of the amniocentesis, I struggled with feeling a connection to Matthew in any way. I was ok with him having Down syndrome--so long as it was a mild form of it. Really it was my last emotional attempt to try and control something that was totally out of my hands. I simply had to wait and see--something that does not come easily to me. Would I be able to truly love my baby knowing he could be very different? I decided to email my OB/GYN to see if he could arrange an appointment with a counselor for me. That same day, he called me at home to set up the appointment and also to offer his help.
My doctor is the same religion as me. I didn’t choose him to be my doctor for this reason, it just sort of worked out that way. And because we don’t attend the same congregation, I pretty much have always had a normal patient/doctor relationship with him. He is the current bishop of his congregation, which means that he is the person to whom people go when they need advice or help with spiritual matters. When he called me at home that day to offer his help, it occurred to me that there was no one better to whom I could speak. He possessed medical expertise specific to my situation and we shared a common belief system. I knew I could tell him everything I needed to say in the way I needed to say it. For that specific purpose, I felt he’d been placed in my path to help me with the burden I was feeling. It also became apparent early on in our conversation that despite his excellent reputation as a doctor and his assignment as a bishop, he too, sometimes struggled with balancing his faith and the science of his profession. Knowing this was a great comfort to me.
I confessed to my doctor my fear of not being able feel a bonding love for my baby because he had Down syndrome. He responded first by telling me that maybe it was ok not to feel a strong bond given that something could happen during my pregnancy. I considered this to be his “doctor” response, the one given in the world of statistics that we were all navigating. He almost immediately recanted his first answer, though, and then offered a completely different one. His second response was given in the form of spiritual counsel, and it was personal to me. He told me instead to pray for charity. He quoted the biblical scripture about perfect love casting out all fear. He said that if I could develop charity for my baby that it didn’t matter the outcome, I could get through anything.
I decided to take my doctor’s advice, despite the fact that I’ve never really understood what charity is, or at least what it feels like. All I knew after our conversation, was that my fears had less to do with Matthew’s disability and more to do with my ability to love, which is why I needed charity. So,my prayers as a mother shifted that day to this one thing: developing a perfect love for my baby. I needed to have the assurance that I could truly bond with Matthew. What else really mattered?
I can’t say that in the remaining weeks and months of my pregnancy that I felt some new, overwhelming emotion for Matthew. It was still difficult for me to feel connected to him throughout, but in seeking charity, I seemed to lose my fear. I started to breathe again. I stopped being consumed by his Down syndrome and started focusing again on my body. I was determined to have the best pregnancy I could have for Matthew, to give him every chance he needed. The remarkable thing was, that my body was holding up beautifully (miracle #1!). In fact as my pregnancy progressed, the time in between my doctors appointments began to stretch out more and more. I continued to modify all my activities, but it felt minimal, and I never ended up on strict bed rest. I did all physical work in moderation and asked for help with the rest. It is never easy to ask for assistance, especially if it’s long term, but I learned that asking for help provides an opportunity for others to do things that make them feel good. This became another miracle of sorts.
The camaraderie of family and friends visiting our home was utterly enjoyable. One of my close friends came over once a week to help with housework, to talk, and to give our girls a chance to play together. Another neighbor-friend stepped in when the first was no longer able to. I didn’t know my neighbor well in the beginning, but with the light housework help also came good conversation. She spent time with Isabella, which I think became very meaningful to her since her own grandchildren live far away. My Mom came once a week to take Isabella out on excursions. During the last 6 weeks or so of my pregnancy, dinners were provided for us once a week. This became a tremendous relief, especially for Mark, who was working full time and had to do more than his fair share around the house. You know a miracle has occurred when a burden that previously felt so heavy and consuming begins to feel light. Nothing about our circumstances had changed: our baby would have Down syndrome, my pregnancy was still high risk, but the sadness and fear was replaced by sheer gratitude (and a desire to give back as soon as I could) and the stress of the circumstances became manageable.
At some point it occurred to me that my previous prayers, which I thought had gone unanswered (or not answered in the way that I’d hoped) were fulfilled in ways I’d never imagined. We were being watched over. I was enjoying my pregnancy! My body was not failing. As this little baby grew inside me, so did the enthusiasm of everyone involved for his safe and healthy arrival. I cannot express the depth of emotion I felt for those around me, (and those far away who sent emails and well wishes) who already loved this little baby, even when I felt disconnected from him. My best friend Brooke had unending enthusiasm for wanting to get to know his personality. My Mom expressed her desire to become an advocate for those with Down syndrome. My dear friend Karly shared her genuine excitement that her children would have a richer life experience being raised with a child that was not going to be the same as everyone else (!) What I considered to be my greatest heartbreak, was beginning to feel like a wonderful privilege. I didn’t know why this little baby was coming to our family, but he obviously had something to teach me.
My little miracle, Matthew.
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