Tuesday, June 5, 2012

12 weeks ago...

I was just sitting here reading through old posts.  I'm so glad I've been writing, it's hard to remember the roller coaster we've been on.  And that is really so wonderful.  It means we've been on a roller coaster, it means there have been highs, lows and lots of in between.

And it means that we have adjusted.  I guess I can only speak for myself, but I'm confident Trever has adjusted more than I have in most areas, and more quickly too.

I'm so thankful that growing Abigirl (I don't call her that enough) brings me joy.  I'm so thankful that this journey has not been only about the sadness.

I cannot believe it's been 12 weeks since I talked to my doctor and was given the list of concerns.  12 weeks since I sat shocked and crying.  After having spent a day telling myself that I was being crazy thinking things might be "that bad"... I found out I was right.

I have this crazy habit of indulging horrible "day dreams"... where my mind wanders through the scenes of a tragedy.  In the end I always calm myself, saying "well that's not going to happen, nothing ever happens exactly the way you anticipate it".  I wonder if it ever occurred to me early on in this journey that it really was turning out to be what I had feared?  That said, it still didn't happen the way I imagined.  In some ways it was worse, in many ways better.

I can picture myself answering that call from the doctor, the one I had waited all day to receive.  I walked away from my friends, sat down on the other side of the pool deck, and with shaky breath and racing pulse asked for the details.  I can remember the compassion in Dr. Sears voice.  I remember her telling me that she couldn't understand my question and she would give me a moment.  I remember asking questions and knowing I wasn't completely absorbing the information.  I remember hanging up and only taking a few steps before I was wrapped in my friends embrace.  I remember trying to tell my friends what I had heard because I knew I couldn't compose myself enough to call Trever yet.  I remember being able to crack some jokes (although I have no idea what they were).  And finally I remember making the call to let Trever know that yes, our fears were going to be realized... there wasn't going to be an easy way out of this situation.

I remember so many details from the rest of the night, sitting on the couch, sending a text to some of my close friends but not being able to pick up the phone and put any words to any of this.  Walking late at night, being surrounded by the warmth and my friends.  Laying in bed, the night taking so long.  Every time I rolled over my brain was awake, a broken record repeating the truth to me.  This wasn't a dream.

For all the details I remember, I can't feel the pain.  I guess that's not totally true, as I wrote those words my chest tightened and my eyes stung... but I can only feel the fringes.  I've heard that our bodies are not capable of feeling/remembering the actual pain, only the memory of it... and of course the pain that comes with remembering.  But there is a buffer in place.  I don't know if this holds true with deeper wounds, but it is holding true for me right now.

So 12 weeks ago we got confirmation that our baby was not healthy.
11 weeks ago we got the call saying that the baby did not have Trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome) as the doctor had believed she would (probably a hope that she had for us really).  Instead the baby had Trisomy 18 (Edwards syndrome).

And 11 weeks ago we found out we were having a girl.  We named her Abigail.  And we knew that we would give her whatever life she was destined to have.  I'm so thankful for everything we've gone through in 12 weeks.  I'm so thankful to know that our journey is not over.

I'm so excited that in only 7 more weeks we will hold this little girl. She will be in our arms, covered in kisses and tears.

1 comment:

  1. my daughter with trisomy 18 is 15 years old. if you are on facebook there is an active group called t18 mommies