31 for 21: #25 My Girl

I wasn't going to have girls. I sat God down and told him this. We re-visited the subject many times...from the time I was about 12. NO GIRLS! When I got married, my husband agreed with me. No girls. At the most one. If we had one, then no more. Our first was a boy. It was wonderful. He was adorable, fun, and just what we had requested....a perfect, healthy boy.

Then we got pregnant the second time. Immediately. The first month trying...there was a bigger gap between our kids than we had planned as Gabriel had been a surprise and Ethan was still in graduate school...but as we faced his last year in graduate school, with all the degrees he had planned on getting, we felt that God was giving us the green light to start trying. So, three years later, we got pregnant with our first planned child. Ironic, isn't it? But, I digress...

So, we of course had several names picked out for our 2nd beautiful boy....and discussed again how if this was a girl, we'd be done... But Gabriel was on the other team cheering for a girl...and I found myself actually half hoping that he would get his wish despite my own hopes....

When we went to the 2nd ultra-sound, I had mixed feelings on what I hoped they'd find...They did a LOT of measurements that day, the baby was measuring tiny, so they bumped "her" due date back by about 2 weeks...I remember them spending a lot of time looking at her little finger, it was SO short...but there were 3 bones in it (Many babies with Down Syndrome have only 2), and so they never did any more ultra sounds... even though she was breech, since I was planning on a 2nd c-section, there was no need to double check that, either...

I got to call Gabriel and hear his yelp of triumph. And so I accepted this derailment of my Plans. BUT NO PINK! Absolutely not! Uh-uh!

I was very sure that they were not mistaken about her original due date. There was no room for a 2 week adjustment, but after Gabriel being such a giant of a baby, I was kinda excited that she was running a little tiny...maybe she would actually be a baby for a little bit!

I started having contractions too early and they got serious 7 weeks early...and so I was slapped with some starter drugs, and then the next line, and then the mac-daddies...and they went ahead and gave me some steroids to mature her lungs a little bit early, since they were not able to stop them completely. And sent me home on bed-rest. Joy. Yuck.

I watched all the girly movies I could get my hands on...Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and Beauty and the Beast (it was released that week) . I quivered and didn't sleep for 3 weeks until they let me up to go back to teaching...for 2 days...at which point I went into labor for real...and they decided to let it go. They rolled me back for the c-section and, very quickly, I was handed my angry little girl. She didn't cry. She just scowled at the world with her lip run out, like we had totally torqued HER big plans. She was tiny, at 5lbs 14oz and 19 inches...with pretty little blue eyes that were tilted like a kitty cat...and I thought she was so pretty. They whisked her away to the nursery under the guise that they wanted to make sure she was okay having come so early (They thought about 4 or even 5 weeks early...I knew it was only 3 weeks.) She got scrubbed up and got a Tennessee Orange ribbon tied into her hair (it was game day and Neyland Stadium was about 1 mile away).

My obstetrician, as I've said, was visibly distraught when he told me that they suspected that she had Down Syndrome.

At that point, I'd only been shown her twice and kissed her as they bustled her out the door, to check their suspicions...

I was wheeled by the nursery to see her when I was moved from recovery to our room...and I could tell immediately that they were right...even though I tried to talk myself out of it for the next 2 weeks...

I think I went through all the stages of grief in fast forward...and then went back and revisited them later...over and over...

But they were easy to ignore, with a baby in my arms....a tiny, beautiful baby... who was perfectly happy to sleep...and sleep and sleep and sleep...

She was so tiny that my mother-in-law went shopping to get a coming home outfit because she was swimming in the outfit we had chosen. They only carried their preemie clothes on-line so she brought back a doll outfit. Even it was too big.

And I graduated to not wanting a baby girl to amp-ed up protector, just shy of crazy. When I was given the option to put her up for adoption or even a home..."they" had a lot of problems and maybe I wouldn't want to deal with them? I was barely able to bite back my snarls of protection...and I knew that this was bigger than me and my plans. She'd been given to me and I was going to trust that God would give me the energy and answers I did not have...

And I snuggled her and allowed myself to fall in love, even though this was SO not what I had planned.

And so 8 years have passed. And my old self has grown up. My volcanic temper has been channeled to an calculated and inflexible steel for my child's needs. My impatience with EVERYTHING has been beaten down to a patience I never expected. My rush to do things has slowed and I appreciate the little things in my children's lives. I find my measure of successes being much different than 8 years ago. My girl showed me that girls were not to be feared and now I have 3. They have a pink room and wear pink. They have dolls and wear sparkles...and I am struck by the divergence from my plans every few months and laugh...and they laugh with me, thinking they are so spiffy in their eye-burning pink dress-ups and flashing high heel shoes.

Elise lives her life with no regrets and it has rubbed off on me. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time second-guessing my choices and words and actions. Now I do what have to do and am thankful that God doesn't put it all on me. He shares his yoke, which is amazingly light...and I am thankful for what I would have resented...and I am at peace.

Happy Birthday, My Big Eight-Year-Old! May you teach me as much about God in the next 8 years as the first! May I be the mother that you need...and have the wisdom to allow you to do what you can and not to protect so much that I smother you. Keep us celebrating! I know that you bring us close enough to hear the tinkle of the angels' laughter...and I don't want to forget to listen...make sure you stop me when it is time to eavesdrop on heaven...

I know you know! I see it in your eyes!