Friday, April 13, 2012
The BIG Plan
I'm a planner. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not satisfied until every little detail has been scrutinized with great care. It's sickening, and I know it. The week before Sam was born, I had EVERYTHING planned! His birth was a planned induction due to a medical condition I had called Polyhydramnios (meaning I was carrying too much amniotic fluid). I knew that I was going in Friday morning at 6, so I had it all planned and mapped out in my mind how the day was going to go. I had made all the plans for our girls - where they would be, who would pick them up, when they would arrive at the hospital to meet their brother...it was all planned out. I'd planned to read during labor, and have an epidural. I'd planned for Kevin to wear his lucky "we're having a baby today" shirt (a shirt that he wore at the hospital each time we had a child), I'd planned what I would wear as soon as I could change out the hospital gown. I'd planned what the kids would eat, where they would sleep, and what they would wear while I was in the hospital. I had even planned the first page of Sam's scrapbook, even though there weren't even any pictures yet. Earlier in the week, I had created a plan to make sure all the laundry was done, the house was clean and ready to bring home a new baby. Planned out, all of it!
Not only had I made plans for me, and for Kevin and the girls...I'd planned quite a bit for the little man too. Maybe it was more of a dream than a plan...dreams of him hunting with his dad, racing his sisters on their 4-wheelers, being the star of his high-school basketball AND football team..all sorts of dreams and plans.
And I remember my mom sort of chuckling at my plans, and telling me to stop worrying, to stop planning. And I specifically remember saying to more than one person..."I shouldn't be doing all this planning....God's going to laugh in my face." What I mean by that is that I really need to just let things come as they will...there is a plan, and I'm not in charge of it.
And I wasn't.
The day did NOT go as I had planned. I didn't touch my book. Kevin wore a different shirt. Getting my epidural hurt like hell. My labor went so fast the doctor almost didn't make it in time. The day took on a direction of it's own....and I was doing ok with it, letting things "come as they may". Some of the plans I had made suddenly weren't such a big deal. But when Sam arrived and our pediatrician said "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it does appear that he has Trisomy 21"....well, THAT was NOT a part of my plan.
Suddenly, all my plans for him flew out the window. Most of it was out of fear, because we didn't know the first thing about Down's Syndrome. We didn't know if he was facing a life threatening condition or if it was just the slant of the eyes that he'd ever have to deal with. We were clueless.
I spent a lot of time that first day mourning the death of these dreams. The hospital gave us some "light reading" which only really made things worse. We sent Sam to the nursery, shut our door and fell into each others arm bawling our eyes out. We apologized to each other, though there was nothing to apologize for. We let fear consume us and shake us to our core.
Just before we gave in to exhaustion, I looked at Kevin and said "I never even said goodnight." So, he wrapped me in my robe and we hobbled across the hall together to see our son. Without "scrubbing" in, they wouldn't allow us to go into the nursery...so we stood outside the big glass window and stared in at the most beautiful boy in the world. I kissed my hand and touched the window, and then I sent him an "air hug". (our oldest daughter invented our air hugs) I smiled, hobbled back to my room and slept.
I woke up the next day with a smile on my face and a new dream in my heart. Because even with the little knowledge we gained that first day about Down's Syndrome, we realized that our son would hunt to his heart's content, would most likely win every 4-wheeler race, and would most certainly enjoy basketball AND football.