It is 2:00 am when the cell phone vibrates under my pillow reminding me to
get up. In a swift motion I swing my legs around and glide out of bed, barely
moving the covers. My husband sleeps soundly and so does my one-week-old baby, Nichole,
who sleeps propped up in her car seat in our room. I pause at the door and
stare at her small shadow. Slowly I turn and exit the room, closing the bedroom
door behind me. It is time.
Across the hall from my room, I lock myself in the bathroom. I sit on the
cold tile floor and pull the blue Medela breast pump from under the sink. The
bottles, cups, and tubes are ready, waiting for me. I am full of milk and ready
to relieve some of the pressure.
I plug myself to the milking machine, the rhythmic swishing begins, and within
seconds, the floodgates are open. A steady stream that never fails every time I
am attached to the pump.
Why? Why?
Why!!!
Why does it have to be my baby? Why do I have to be the mother of a child
with Down syndrome? Why!
It never fails. Every time the pump is to my breast I cry and grieve over
Nichole's diagnosis. During the day, I have enough distractions to keep me from
giving in and losing myself in despair. But at night, at night I can cry as
much as I want. Everyone is sleeping. Nobody knows.
***
My article I Need Her was published today at SpecialNeeds.com. CLICK HERE to continue reading.
I wish when Hailey was born, I knew that I wasn't alone in feelings like this. Beautiful writing!
ReplyDeleteThank you, and I agree, I wish I would have known it was normal and okay to cry. Now I wish I could go back too and tell my old self there was nothing to cry about or be sad because our life was about to burst with incredible beauty.
DeleteI think all moms of kids with DS have been there. But on the other hand, I wouldn't have it any other way. Our kids are perfect just the way they are. It's the rest of the world that has problems.
ReplyDeleteLeslie, isn't it incredible how so many of us have similar experiences? if only the world could understand and see that yes, we were sad, but the fact that we live life with our kids and love it should be a testimony of how precious their lives really are, and how perfect they are.
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