Today. 23rd January 2015, is the anniversary of the first time I experienced childbirth.. It began with a pop of waters and ended in an explosion of love like I could never of imagined.
I was absolutely shocked to see that the little boy I was stone cold convinced I was going to give birth to actually didn't have the appendage needed, and was in fact, a girl. As I lay there transfixed by this, strangely quiet, kind of purple looking, covered in goo and all sorts, little person who I had spent the previous 40 odd hours, in various degrees of discomfort, giving birth to. I was, like most mothers, shocked by the whole experience, relieved it was over and instantly, devoted to and profoundly in love with her.
Somewhere in the whirlwind of emotion I caught a glimpse of something. Something that would absolutely change me and my husband and take us on an amazing journey. A journey of learning, of discovery, of euphoric highs and heart-crushing lows and a journey that I look forward to every day.
We very quickly became aware of the circus that was unfolding in front of us. I vaguely remember saying something about Down Syndrome. I remember the nurses and midwives going outside the room to speak to each other, I remember phones ringing and calls being made but most of all I remember she was not given to me. She was put under this giant light and in the middle of all the chaos unfolding around us I remember my husband was by her side, as he has always been since. He looked at me full of pride and nodded. Smiled his huge infectious smile and nodded. That was the moment I knew our little girl has Down Syndrome.
She was checked by various Doctors and Pediatricians and I was finally allowed to hold her. Holding my blonde, pink bundle of pure love who I had waited so impatiently to meet, the absolute stamp of her daddy, with her perfect tiny fingers, her teeny tiny toes, those big rosebud lips, her perfect little nose, eyes that you can loose yourself in. The 'something' I had seen earlier for that brief, fleeting moment, faded before my eyes and all I couldn't see it any more. She was my perfect baby and she is Sorcha.
I spent a blur of a week or more in hospital with her. Test after test, in and out of incubators, feeding tubes, IV lines, collapsed veins, SAT machines. Little did I realise that I would, without attending any sort of medical college or sitting any exams, become more knowledgeable on the subject or medicine and care than I ever wanted to be.
We were handing a pile of print outs before we left hospital and offered counselling. Counselling? I remember thinking why do I need counselling? We were told she was exceptionally floppy and we needed to prepare ourselves for her not walking or talking. How could they tell, she was only a few days old? I was told to plant a tree for the baby I didn't have. But I was holding my baby. I was told she wouldn't be able to feed on her own but when she started breast feeding a day or two later I was told I should stop, I didn't and 22 weeks later she was finally weened to bottles. It took me months to realise what was being said to me. That I needed to grieve.
My baby was coming home with me, she wasn't sick, she didn't need medicine, she was feeding, sleeping, pooping. Doing all the baby things that baby's do. It took me years to realise that these people taught of Sorcha as some sort of disappointment and not the child we wanted. They assumed we had an idea of what being a parent is and having Sorcha for a daughter would somehow stop us becoming the parents we dreamed of. They taught we were in shock and it would hit us and then we would fall apart. It never happened and I slowly came to realise that the only expert on Down Syndrome in my life is Sorcha.
She has made us think outside the proverbial box, she makes us do more, help other people more, be more patient and to revel in all her achievements. Every parent waits for the day their child takes their first step. We waited until exactly her 2nd birthday and with that step my heart burst with pride. Of course her first word was Daddy. I swear she said Daddy first just to annoy me!
Over the last eight years she has treated us to some heart stopping moments but they have been few and far between and because of Sorcha we are stronger people, able to adjust, cope and deal with what ever it is that has been thrown at us. Every day Sorcha treats us to a great big dose of, well, Sorcha. Her naughty mischievous laugh, that stubborn, foot stomping determination. She makes us laugh every, single, day and we adore her, just like we adore her two sisters. She is no different from them. Her need for love and affection is the same as theirs, her love of noise and laughter is the same as theirs, her sense of adventure is the same as theirs. Down Syndrome does not define her. It is a small part of her but it is that small part that has taken us to places we never dreamed of and met some amazing and inspirational people, young and old.
What I am trying to say is having a child with Down Syndrome is not a 'life sentence' as someone once, not so eloquently put it. Down Syndrome is a roller coaster of ups and downs, thrills and spills, it is fast paced yet it can seem like things take forever, and it is, in my opinion, one of the most amazing and rewarding adventures I have ever been on. I look forward to the next 8 years and the 8 after that and the 8 after that.. We are all different, we are all the same.
Happy Birthday baby girl
Till next time x
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