As I hold my son, Noah, in my arms and reflect on the journey we’ve taken together, I can’t help but remember that pivotal moment from two years ago. It was September 3, 2015, a day that changed everything. As I sit here sharing a few giggles with him tonight, I think about how much has changed in these three years.
On this day three years ago, amidst discussions about his health, I heard the words, “Your results indicate Trisomy 21.” Back then, I felt as if my world had come crashing down. I’ve often imagined what I would say to myself on that day, hoping to provide comfort and encouragement. However, I know that in those initial hours, I wouldn’t have been ready to accept any reassurances.
It’s a complicated feeling, as I believe my current perspective stems from navigating the rollercoaster of emotions—both the good and the challenging. So tonight, as I reflect, I want to share this letter with my past self.
Dear Me,
Wow, even three years later, the memories of hearing “Trisomy 21” are still overwhelming. I remember all too well the intense mix of numbness and raw vulnerability you felt. Don’t worry; I’m not here to recite cliché motivational phrases or insist that it will all turn out fine. But I will say this: “It will all be okay.” I know you aren’t ready to hear it yet, but I promise it’s true. What I really want to convey is that it’s completely normal to feel what you’re feeling.
Allow yourself to grieve the vision you had for your baby. In time, you will realize that there’s a beautiful life waiting for you on the fifth floor of the NICU. It’s okay to worry about Noah; he will often be the one teaching you about trust and acceptance. You might fret about your career, but Noah will inspire a newfound passion within you to educate others. You may be concerned about your family dynamic, but in two years, you will find a strong family of four. And while you might fret over Noah’s potential, just know he will continually surprise you with every twist and turn.
I want to share a quote from The Chaos of Stars, which I once came across in a touching context involving a parent and their medically complex child. This quote has since resonated deeply with me:
“I didn’t fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do things we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you, in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.” –Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars
So, embrace your feelings—every single one of them. Take the time you need to process. It’s okay to cry when you feel overwhelmed. It’s okay for your heart to ache when you see him struggle for things that others take for granted. Because for each of those tough days, there will be many more filled with love and joy.
Right now, you might be sitting in postpartum room 2213, overwhelmed by thoughts of Down syndrome. Just know that there will be a day when you look into Noah’s big, beautiful brown eyes and wholeheartedly say, “I’d choose you.”
In any universe, I would recognize him as my son and choose him over and over again.
If you’re ready for more insights and real experiences, check out our other blogs on home insemination kits and more information on pregnancy; there are valuable resources available, such as this article and this one that can provide additional guidance on this journey. For further support, this website offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, it’s essential to navigate your feelings and allow yourself the space to grieve and heal. The journey may be challenging, but it is also filled with unexpected joy and deep love.