when surreal becomes real

It was Friday June 26th. The day we had been waiting a week for. The day we would receive the results of the chromosone blood testing that would confirm or negate what the doctors had felt all along. After securing care for the other children, we made our way to the office, anxious and yet peaceful. Upon arrival, we were given the usual paperwork for first time patients and spent the next minutes filling out the necessary information. There were 2 other mothers there with small babies held closely in their arms. Then there was the "tribe". A lady had managed to rush in her crew of 8 right before us and then managed to give those poor mothers a reason to snuggle their babies close. I must admit my dismay over the behavior of those children who wrestled on the floor, zigzagging from one chair to the next, and throwing toys across the room. Their laughter and idle chatter was loud and unruly. I found myself correcting two of the children who had almost fallen into the lap of one of the helpless mothers. This sent my mind to reflecting on my calling as a mother. When others spend time with my family, what "atmosphere" do we bring to the situation? A pang of conviction swept over me that indeed we all have so far to go, and I prayed that God would indeed show mercy on me as I continue to face the challenge of molding these precious souls. A call of my name brought me back to the moment and it was time. We were escorted to the room and precious baby had to be undressed down to a dry diaper to be weighed. Our little one managed to gain back the weight she lost plus and extra two ounces! Back in the room, my husband scanned the magazines to find an interesting read, but found instead page after page of the hurt of this lost world. I truly felt grateful to God's mercies that he indeed called me as his own and has protected me from so much of the hurt caused by sinful living. The tap on the door made my heart thump just a little harder, and then I felt everything move into slow motion. The doctor introduced himself very confidently and after a brief talk, we felt our baby would be under incredible care of him as he works directly with Texas Children's Hospital. He lifted our bundle and handled her like a piece of china, scouring over every piece of her fragile form. He said the chromosone test had not yet been faxed over to him, but that it was very evident she was a downs baby. He sat on his stool and walked us through the plan for her care in the next few weeks. I think I heard him, but found myself simply nodding in agreement out of habit. It was then that the movie screen blurred the next few months and years into a speeding tunnel. I found myself furiously driving from one appointment to the next, loading up eight children in the car packed with extra groceries for the long hours of driving and waiting. Calendar pages were filling up faster than I could write, and yet there were still seven other children to taxi around to their involvements, and then there was homeschooling. A firm hand shaking mine brought me back to the present and I simply smiled and nodded a thank you for all he had done to help us get started. He left, and I still felt like there was no closure. I was still left to wonder if it was real. The nurse arrived to handle the pku test and little baby handled it as strong as ever and my heart swelled with pride that this precious bundle had so much strength at such a young age. I knew then that if she could handle this, so could I. As we dressed the baby a knock came at the door and the doctor came in with papers. He had just received the fax. In that very second a surge of warmth shot through me and I felt peace. The lab results indeed confirmed a third strand on chromosone 21. I heard it and the new reality settled into my mind. He handed the papers to us and it was when I actually saw the picture that it all became real in my heart. For nine days my mind had whirled in a fog and now the fog had cleared. It's a big journey ahead, but it will be ok because we'll just take one step at a time. I find myself blessed. There are many parents facing a hopeless diagnosis of their child's illness. There are many children facing crippling handicaps that will require interventions unthinkable to us. I am blessed. You are too. Go to your children and thank God for every moment you have with them. Laugh with them, for you could have a child that can't utter a sound. Let us live, laugh and love for all of those who cannot.