I Wish I'd Known Then What I Know Now

Dear Addison, Five years ago today, we met you for the very first time. Your body was broken. Your cry was weak. Your grasp was nonexistent. Your muscle tone was low. I will never forget bending over your bed in the NICU isolation room with my mind full of questions. I didn't know how to be a mother, let alone to a baby who was so sick. I didn't know how to love a baby, let alone a baby with Down syndrome. I wish I could say that after 20 weeks of pregnancy worrying about that call from the genetics counselor informing us that "your daughter has Trisomy 21," I held you and all worries fled. I wish I could say that I wrapped my arms around your warm body and knew that your Down syndrome diagnosis meant nothing. But the truth is, I couldn't hold you. I wasn't allowed, and my worries had center stage in my mind. As I bent over your bed in the NICU, all I had was questions. My sweet Addison, one day perhaps you will read all of the things that I have written about you. Maybe you will know of my doubts, of my fears. Perhaps you will read about me having to answer my OB/GYN if I just wanted to "let nature take its course since your baby will be handicapped," or if we wanted intervention to save your life. Maybe you will hear that we had no birth plan because we didn't know if you would make it that far... or if you would survive the birth at all. Maybe you will read about the questions in my mind as I, a brand new mom, bent over a NICU bed. Maybe you will read about me ...
Source: Healthy Living - The Huffington Post - Category: Consumer Health News Source Type: news