Joy in the Moment
In April of 2007 I assumed I was
pregnant with our fourth baby. If nature
took its proper course, I would be having a Christmas baby. Sure enough, the
due date was set for December 11. I knew this would be the caboose. We planned for four, this was the year that I
planned to have number 4, and this would be just the planned space between
numbers 3 and 4. I also planned to have
a little girl, a playmate for number 3 who was a girl. So many plans…
Pregnancy and childbirth were easy
for me. Cliff tells me I shouldn't brag about this. I might find myself
clawed in the eyeballs by some poor woman who experienced every symptom in the
book with a conclusion of 36 hours of labor.
Oh, I had morning sickness, and some crazy rash. My back hurt…and still does! But overall, good experiences, can’t
complain. Childbirth was so easy that I
stopped using an epidural after number 2 and the OB
started scheduling inductions because he was afraid I would give birth on my
own. He was probably right. “So,” he chided, “don’t plan anything for the
week before your due date and we’ll decide what day to bring you in.” A planned delivery…
Around July it was time to have the
blood tests you take midway through pregnancy to rule out any
abnormalities. This not being my first
rodeo, I rolled up my sleeve, offered my blood, and bee-bopped my way out of
the office without a second thought. Two
weeks later I was on the Fort
Bayou Bridge
“Mrs. Burris, do you remember
taking the alpha-fetoprotein test?” asked the OB
nurse. Yes, I know I have pregnancy
brain, but I do remember you sticking the needle in my arm.
“Sure.” Now my heart is starting to beat a little
faster. Is she about to tell me I am
having twins? (It tests for that, and in
my secret heart I've always wanted twins…but as numbers 4 and 5?!?!?)
“Well, your levels came back
elevated, and sometimes that indicates a chromosomal abnormality, but you are
so young and these tests come back with false positives all the time. All the same, we want you to go to Mobile for some extra
testing. Mrs. Burris? Did you understand what I just told you?”
Uhm, I think you just told me that there may
be something wrong with my baby, but MAYBE I DIDN’T HEAR YOU ON MY CELL PHONE
IN TRAFFIC. “Yes, I understand.”
“Okay, well, you can call back if you have
questions, but you will get a phone call from their doctor to schedule your
appointment. They will call soon though,
because you will want the chance to terminate the pregnancy if something is
wrong. But I’m sure nothing is.”
“Okay, great.”
I sat in the Wal-Mart parking
lot. Just sat. I didn’t cry, scream, call anyone, I just
sat. I don’t know for how long. I just didn’t know how to conduct myself in
the next minute, so I let it wait for me.
Finally I got up the nerve to walk in the store. A mother was fussing at her teenage daughter
for being so slow. The girl was willowy
with wispy white-blond hair and she was standing in the flow of traffic with
arms crossed and not moving. Her back
was to me, but the mother’s back was not.
The mother’s face was red with frustration and embarrassment. Ah, Wal-Mart--the haven where I can always
find someone with bigger problems than mine.
The thought skittered through my mind: “Well, whatever is wrong with my
baby, we won’t have that problem!” The
girl turned and I saw the angelic features of a child with Down Syndrome. I went home.
The next moment had to wait for me too.
I was able to tell my husband, my
mother, and my pastor. I couldn’t figure
out how to tell anyone else, even my other children. They laid their little hands on my belly and
prayed, “Lord Jesus, make our baby strong and beautiful.” I would cry and beg for it to be true. Further testing revealed an otherwise healthy
fetus so my OB decided not to talk about
it. I tried to make normal plans.
I chose to name the baby Joy. I actually did not know if the baby was a boy
or a girl. I had found out with the
other 3. I wanted that storybook moment
when the doctor said, “It’s a girl,” or “it’s a boy!” Some days I would wonder what if…what if this
baby is born with an abnormality? What
will happen? What will I do? My mind would spin with disaster scenarios,
then the baby would kick and the Spirit would remind me, “Joy is within
you. Do not let life’s circumstances
steal your joy.” I would place my hand
on my little Joy and tell sorrow and fear to wait a minute. But, still, I did not talk about it.
Sometimes I would go to websites or
chat rooms for parents of children with Down Syndrome. Those were terrifying places. They reported that many individuals with Down
Syndrome will also have other complicating conditions and life expectancy is
only 60. “I just couldn't keep my baby,”
mother after mother wrote on the walls of those pages. “I couldn't live with the pain.” I would put my hand on my little Joy and turn
off the computer. I couldn't talk about
it. I needed a minute.
I bumped into families with Downs kids all the time.
Why had I never noticed before?
Was it a sign? Or was I just
sensitive, like seeing your car everywhere after you buy a new one? The holidays were quickly approaching and I was
growing past the cute pregnant size to the uncomfortable size when everyone
wants to know when the baby is coming. I
still couldn’t talk about it, even with my husband. I requested my maternity leave from the church
where I preached; I planned to return after 8 weeks. I didn’t know how to make
different plans.
My last Sunday I offered communion
to the faithful even as I counted contractions.
My husband went to work Monday morning and I stayed home for my first day
of leave with our little girl. She
poured an entire bottle of bubbles on the bathroom floor then proceeded to slip
down and hit her head on the tub. I had
to squeeze my huge self between the tub and toilet to rescue her and clean up
the mess. I put her down for a nap and
cried, “God, I can barely do this with a normal child. I can’t have a special needs child. I don’t want a special needs child!” I couldn’t talk about it because I didn’t
think I should be saying that. But
there, I said it. After a minute I
collected myself and made gingerbread houses as planned.
I went in for a 39 week check up on
Wednesday. There were magazines on the
table in the waiting room and I flipped through a holiday one that gave cute
ideas for decorations and cookies, and then I started to read an article about
a family with four children. Baby four
came along with much joy and then, to their great surprise, he was born with
Down Syndrome. He had heart problems,
vision problems, and diabetes, but he was the joy of their life! I was horrified. “Mrs. Burris, the doctor can see you now.”
I lay on the exam table and watched my big
belly roll with the kicks of a baby who has run out of space. The doctor took several minutes to get
there. I was completely alone…me and the
baby. Unbidden tears leaked down my
cheeks. “GOD! How could you let me read
that today?! Didn't you hear me? I don’t want a baby with special needs! This
is not in the plan!”
In the next minute the Spirit
spoke. “Who do you think you are? Did you make that baby, or did I? I made you too. You were born spiritually blind and I had to
give you sight. You were spiritually deaf
to my voice and I had to give you ears to hear.
You were slow to speak, move, and obey my voice, and I waited patiently
for you to respond to my love. This
child that you shun only demonstrates physically what I do for you each and
every day spiritually.”
My spirit quieted and the doctor
came in the room. “Leanne, did you know
you’re in labor? Take yourself straight
to the hospital. We are having a baby
today!” I called my husband and my
mother as I drove down the road to the hospital and checked myself in.
Three hours later I was pushing a
new life into the world. The OB hadn't talked to the nurses about the possibility of
the baby’s abnormality. I hadn't talked
to the pediatrician. My mom and husband
knew, but we hadn't talked that day.
But I had no more minutes. With just two or three pushes the doctor was
holding my baby and I was straining to see: was it a “Joy” as I planned, or would
I need a new name? “Well? Is it a boy or
a girl!?”
Suddenly the OB
remembered, and the nurses realized, and my mother grew concerned. “Oh… it’s a boy.” It did not have storybook quality. The little boy wasn't crying and a nurse was
taking him to the other side of the room.
My mother rushed to the nurse’s side.
She looked at the bluish baby with great concern, then looked at me with
reassuring eyes. Maybe she didn't realize how small the room was. The baby
perked up, the OB was satisfied that I was taken
care of, and he left. The nurses took
the baby. My husband and my mother and I
stared at each other. We couldn't talk
about it.
Mama left to follow the baby and my
husband asked if I thought the baby had Downs . “I couldn't tell. They are all so squished looking when they’re
born. Mama looked worried though.” Hours later, nurses brought the baby to us. “He is doing great!” And he was.
They couldn't talk about it.
Finally, late that evening the pediatrician
brought me pages from one of those scary websites I had visited months
before. “Mr. and Mrs. Burris, we believe
your son may have a condition known as Trisomy 21, or Down Syndrome. Had you
made plans for this?”
I was awake to see the sunrise the
next morning. “Okay, God. So what now?
How do I proceed? In a minute I
have to engage this new reality. Is
there a plan? What will we do?” At that moment the nurses brought our tiny
little boy into the room, crying for breakfast.
“What are we going to name him?”
“Joel.”
“Do not fear, O earth; be glad and rejoice, for the Lord has
done great things! O children of Zion , be glad and rejoice
in the Lord your God.” Joel 2:21
It goes almost without saying that
December 5, 2007 forever changed me.
Joel is a joy, both beautiful and strong. He is five now, and sticky,
stinky, clingy, defiant, terrible two’s-three’s-four’s all in one glorious
package. But no one quiets my spirit
like Joel. When he sits in my lap and
pats my shoulder with that stubby hand crossed permanently with a tell-tale
palmar crease and lets that little tongue loll out ever so slightly, I know
that every other plan can wait just a minute.
Together we sit and we talk about it.
Thank you for continuing to share your messy and beautiful story Leanne. :)
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