{And the story continues....}

31 for 21 blog challenge day 9

We didn't get much sleep. 

Around eight in the morning Kurt got up and went home to check on the boys who we'd left sleeping just 7 hours earlier. 

We agreed that while he was gone he would call his parents and I would call mine and tell them the news. 

I just laid in bed and stared at the wall. 

I finally got the gusto to call my parents.  My Dad answered the phone.  I told him that we had the baby.  He asked how everything went and if the baby was ok.  It was then that I broke down and told him.  I could tell that both he and my Mom were trying to be strong/keep it together when talking with me.  My Mom was feeling bad that she couldn't be there/come to be with us as they were serving their mission.

(Kurt's parents came to our aid as soon as they heard the news. They were such a great help and blessing as we so needed them at that time. Kurt's Mom stayed for 2 weeks and helped us with the boys, cooking meals, and cleaning. My parent's just couldn't stay away either. They hopped in the car on their P-day and made the 6 hour drive to see their grandson and to make sure we were ok. The next day they hit the road so they could be back in time for their shift at Martin's Cove.  The Ma & Pa's come for a visit.)

Moments later after talking with my parents the geneticist came in.  He was a flamboyant man.  And in his flamboyant voice he said, and I quote:

"Hi, my name is so and so.  Now you've seen your baby, right.  Me:  Yes.  No like you've really seen your baby.  Me:  Yes....???  Like close up.  You've been able to study your baby.  WTH?.....  Me:  Yes, I've seen my baby.  And Yes I know he has Down syndrome if that's what you're getting at.  Ok.  Good.  Because I didn't know if you'd seen him or if you knew he had a syndrome."

Oh.My.Gosh.  Get the frick out was all I could think.

He finally told me that yes, our son had Trisomy 21, but only after I acknowledged it. 

In hindsight-a month or so later, I have come to the conclusion that no one could/would tell us that our son had Down syndrome for legal purposes.  I gathered that his Dr. could be the only one to give the diagnosis.  And since we didn't have a pediatrician, he didn't have a Dr.  and that's why no one would tell us.

A few minutes later after he left, my real Dr. came in.  He pulled up a chair and he said, "I don't know what to say."  He apologized for not being there for the delivery.  We had a really great conversation.  One that I needed.  I appreciated his sincerity and his advice. 

He asked if I would have wished that I'd known the diagnosis before hand.  I did opt out of doing the test that would have given us the results before the delivery.  He mentioned what good would it have done?  I wasn't going to abort it.  I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.  Why dwell on it for months.  He was right I thought and I agreed. 

In hindsight-I do wish that I would have known.  If I would have known I think I could have prepared myself waaaaay better.  For one the shock factor would have been dramatically less.  Had I known, I could deal months before the baby was born, and would have been able to focus more on our baby for who he was instead of what he had.  I also would have been more emotionally invested in a positive way. 

A few minutes after that a nurse came in and asked if I wanted to go see the baby.  No.  I didn't.

I laid in bed for a little while, and stared into nothing.  I cried some more. 

After a little while I got up and wanted to change and freshen up.  I looked in the mirror.  I looked bad.  I don't know/remember a time where I've cried so much.  My eyes were super swollen and puffy.  There was nothing I could do to make myself look better.  Not even makeup helped.  My eyes were so swollen makeup wasn't even an option to put on. 

Kurt's sisters had come to get the boys and Kurt was able to come back up to the hospital.  After a while we finally decided that we were going to go see our baby.

Kurt pushed me in a wheelchair down the hall to the NICU.  Upon entering you have to scrub in up to your elbows with soap and a scrubber.  Just like the Drs. do before they go into surgery.  The smell of the NICU will forever be stained in my memory.  It's not a smell that I particularly enjoy. 

When we got to our baby's room he was under the lights with his sunglasses on, as he was jaundice.  He was a big boy.  He was the biggest in the NICU.  Although he was 8 lbs plus, they still referred to him as a preemie since he was 2 1/2 weeks early. 

The nurse let us hold him.  He had an iv and wires everywhere.  Emotions were still high.  I held him.  He was extra "floppy" and extra "gushy" as I like to say.  A little different from my other babies.  Although different, he was mine.  He was given to me, and I was to be his Mom.  It would take a little bit of time to get to know this little guy.  One thing that I was really hoping and praying for was that I would feel a bond with him.