Pumping quickly became a time where I allowed for my emotions to surface. Eight times a day, I was attached to my own machine, unable to move, and able to wallow in my sadness. Many times, while milk poured, so did my tears.
At times, I felt as if I was shaking my fist at God, asking Him “Why?” I had given Him my life; I had served Him faithfully; so why had He given me this child? Why had He chosen this road for my family and me? I had more questions than I had answers.
I was so afraid. Afraid of an unknown future, afraid that our family would live with limitations due to Nichole’s disability. I was afraid that people would look at her different, afraid that they would look at me different; now the mother of a child with special needs.
And I was afraid that my family in Mexico would believe the very thoughts I wrestled with that were prevalent in our culture. That I had done something wrong and was getting what I deserved. Or that Nichole would never be whole. Although I knew it was not true, those lies would suck at my heart, like leaches, and I painfully would pull them out.
When I thought about my dreams, I felt as if hope and happiness had been taken away from me. The dreams I had for my family were gone. The dreams of having 2 girls close in age being best friends were gone. The baby I had expected was gone. Taken away and replaced by a broken child that had attached me to that very pump because she could not eat on her own.
It would be easier if she died. The pain and sadness I have is engulfing me Lord! I don’t know how I will ever be able to enjoy life again!
The very thoughts of wishing for my baby to die would hit me, bruising my soul. What kind of mother would wish for her own child to die? A terrible mother, a mother that could not love. A broken one.
I am broken Lord. So broken. I cannot even find love inside my heart for this baby.
I had said before, that being a mother had taught me about unconditional love. There was nothing Ellie could do that would make me stop loving her. I was mistaken. It was easy to love Ellie. She was perfect. She was everything I always wanted, and the baby I had expected. Nichole, on the other hand, was not. She had come to challenge my unconditional love. I wondered what my love would have looked like if Ellie, instead, had been born with Down syndrome.
I was confronted by my selfishness. I knew that the fears I had were all about me. I only cared about how Down syndrome would affect my life. I grieved the loss of my dreams and my future. Me, me, me. My, my, my. I was broken, just as broken as my baby and perhaps even more. Perhaps I was broken in the places that really mattered. In the places where love abounds and flows from the heart.
I don’t make mistakes. God whispered. Your heart will expand and you will learn about the richness of my love. This is the child I have for you.
I don’t want her Lord! I don’t want this child!
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I say this with every post, but I so admire your honesty. You are brave and fearless about how you felt. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteOh, Ellen...this post takes me back to my own struggles. One of the hardest memories I have of Lucy's birth is the tiny little voice in my head that whispered "Maybe this heart defect will be a good thing. An out." I was immediately horrified, but that thought was still there. An escape.
ReplyDeleteI remember wishing we had known her diagnosis before naming her. I feared I had "wasted" her name.
But I also remember crying every time I fed her. The heart failure symptoms they warned us about would be most apparent during feedings and so I became a hypervigilant mess during feeds.
And I wept so many times in the shower. Alone with my thoughts and my fear. Despite that whispered thought about her heart defect, I soon became paralyzed with terror that that would actually happen. That I would lose her to those wholes in her heart. And I wept every day in the shower for months...