Monday, October 10, 2011

The Dream

0 What are your thoughts?


By Ellen Stumbo

Airplanes have made it easy to travel to faraway places, but when you travel with a toddler, any trip might seem endless. By the time we were picked up at the Florida airport, stopped by to have something to eat, checked in for the conference, checked in at the hotel room, and unpacked our bags, we were exhausted. All three of us were looking forward to a good night sleep. We went to bed, we fell asleep, and we had dreams.


No!!! I bolted up in bed, breathing heavily, feeling cold as I stared into the dark hotel room. I looked over and saw my husband laying next to me, slow and deep breathing. Ellie slept peacefully on the bed next to ours. I could not remember my dream, but there was something I was sure about; our baby was going to have Down syndrome. All of a sudden I felt like I was choking, gasping for breath. This was not real; it was just a dream, nothing more.

I got up and walked to the bathroom. I closed the door and sat on the toilet seat, stroking my protruding belly. My mind was racing and it did not take long before I broke down and began to cry. I was not emotionally capable of having a child with special needs. I did not have the patience, or the strength for such a task, I was not one of “those” special parents. Oh Lord, it is okay for our friends, but not for us, not for us. I could never have a baby with Down syndrome.

It had been two years since our friend's daughter had been born. Andy and I had gone to the hospital to meet their baby girl, and we marveled at how beautiful and perfect she was. Bill and Kristin were as proud as you would expect any first time parents to be. Doctors seemed to be concerned about Jennifer, and she was transferred to a larger hospital, where she stayed for ten days in the NICU. It was in that hospital that they were told that their baby girl had Down syndrome.

As I cried in the bathroom, my thoughts went back to the feelings I had when I first heard that Jennifer had Down syndrome. I had grieved for our friends, as I imagined the horrible tragedy they were facing. I felt sorry for them. I wished with everything in me that I could take it away, that I could make Jennifer "normal." I pictured shame and embarrassment as they faced family and friends when they shared the news. I did not even know how to act around them. I had no words of encouragement. All I could do was comfort myself by saying that there were no better parents for a child with Down syndrome than Bill and Kristin, both of them, full of love and acceptance. What a lousy friend I had turned out to be.

But this could not be us. This could not be our future. We had lived our lives seeking to please the Lord, my husband was a pastor and I faithfully served the church. Surely He would bless us with a healthy child. Another little girl, as perfect and beautiful as Ellie.

The next morning I was still very upset.

          “What if our baby has Down’s?” I asked Andy.

          “Why do you ask that?” he replied, confused.

          “I . . .” My voice broke as I struggled with my emotions. “I had a dream about it,” I finally said, as tears streamed down my face.

Andy was thoughtful for a while, then he reached out and held my hand, “If it comes to be, then we will walk down that road, and you and I know that we will not walk it alone.”

I fell into his arms and cried. He was right. Bill, Kristin, and Jennifer would walk with us every step of the way.

Next: Level 2 Ultrasound

Don't miss:
Road Marker 321
My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part1
My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part 2
My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part 3


Sunday, October 9, 2011

My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part 3

1 What are your thoughts?
We walked out of the clinic; the sun bright and hot. Ellie attached to Luisa's hip, little arms wrapped around her neck. My sister was talking to me but I could not respond. A flood of emotion was about to wash over me and I was trying to contain it, to keep it all inside, to be able to think clearly. She looked over and instinctively knew I was about to loose it. "Ellen, are you okay?" I shook my head and quiet tears streamed down my face. We reached the car and she got Ellie buckled in her car seat as I sat in the driver's seat, crying. I did not know if I was overreacting, or owning up to my pregnant hormones. Maybe both. What I did know was that there was fluid around my baby's heart, and fluid around the heart was not good. Maybe tomorrow the fluid would be gone, but today, in that moment, fluid around the heart was not good.


After a few minutes I was able to clear my head a little bit and called my husband. As soon as I heard Andy's voice I was overcome by emotion once more. It was not my habit to call him and cry over the phone, so he sensed something was terribly wrong.

"Honey," he asked with a calm but anxious voice, "What is wrong?"

I mumbled through my tears, but was able to communicate the basics: they saw fluid around the heart, we need to go see a specialist, it could be something serious, or nothing at all. Immediately I sensed his relief. His pregnant and tend-to-be-dramatic wife was not delivering devastating news.

"Oh honey!" he said gently, "You scared me, I thought something worse had happened."

It has to be my hormones. Maybe I should be taking some anti-emotional pills. I wonder if they make those.

I sighed, I could see how my delivery was a little bit over the top. I should have waited to call him until I was a decent, level headed woman, once I had been able to think about this clearly. "Sorry honey," I responded, "I am just so worried."

I hung up and shook some of the emotional commotion, I was ready to eat. My baby had fluid around her heart, there was nothing I could do about that, but I could get some food and pass on some good stuff to my baby through my perfectly good Placenta. IHOP sounded delicious.

Once my belly was full, my head clear, and my toddler ready for a nap, we got back on the road and drove 50 miles back home.

Over the next few days it became evident that God was loving us through other people. Our church was praying, and so were our families and their friends. Some of these people I do not even know, but they were faithful, for I was wrapped in peace. They lifted up our baby girl to God asking that He would heal her heart, that the fluid would be gone.


Next: The Dream

Don't miss:
Road Marker 321
My Body is Cooking a Baby: Part 1
My Body is Cooking a Baby: Part 2

Thursday, October 6, 2011

My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part 2

2 What are your thoughts?
After the ultrasound, we walked back to the small examination room. We looked at the freshly printed pictures of the baby while waiting for my midwife to come back. When she came in the room, she had her own set of photos. Kim said the Placenta Previa was no longer an issue and asked to see our 4D pictures. I proudly showed off my baby portraits. After looking at them, she leaned back against the counter.


"Everything looks great, your baby is growing like she is supposed to..." a pause, "There is just one thing I am concerned about. We found fluid around the baby's heart."

What! Wait a second, I asked the technician about her heart and she did not mention anything about fluid!

"Well, what does that mean?" I asked calmly, my eyes locked on hers.

"It could be nothing, or it could be something more serious."

Oh come on, come on Kim! What kind of answer is that? What does fluid around the heart mean?

"I want you to see a specialist in Iowa City that will do a Level II ultrasound." She continued.

A specialist! If she wants me to go see a specialist this must be serious.

"We will try to get you in Monday or Tuesday."

My mind was spinning. We were flying to Florida for a weeklong conference, I explained this to Kim.

"Is it safe to wait?" I asked, "Do I need to cancel my trip?"

She seemed to consider this only for a few seconds.

"No," she responded, "Whatever this is, it will not make a difference whether we find out next week or the week after."

"What do you think this is?" I asked her.

She entertained the question. I could see in her eyes that she was thinking about what to say, and then she responded, "It could be an infection, something as simple as fighting a virus… or something more serious. I think it is best not to talk about all the different things that it could be until we actually know what this is, it will just make you worried. It is also very possible that the fluid is gone by the time you go to Iowa City, and this will turn out to be nothing."

I ended up spending quite some time in the "referral" office trying to figure out Insurance Coverage and a day that would work for us. I had time to think over my conversation with Kim and wondered why I had not pried for more answers from her. But Kim was someone that I had come to consider a friend, I trusted her. And maybe midwives are trained to look into a mother's heart.


Next:
My Body is Cooking a Baby: Part 3

Don't miss:
Road Marker 321
My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part 1
My Body Is Cooking a Baby:Part 2

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

My Body Is Cooking a Baby: Part 1

0 What are your thoughts?
By Ellen Stumbo

At nineteen weeks gestation, I was having a 4D ultrasound. I was excited to actually see the baby. I was also anxious to hear my midwife confirm that my Placenta Previa was no longer an issue. When I started spotting a few weeks before, an ultrasound confirmed a Partial Placenta Previa, as well as the fact that we were having another baby girl.


My 13 year old sister, Luisa, came along to the appointment to help with my toddler. She made it clear she had no intentions of knowing her oldest sister in any special “pre-natal-test” kind of way. When the nurse gave me a cup, I smiled at her teasingly and said, "Got to go pee in the cup." Her eyes widened in disgust, "That is gross Ellen!"

I came back to the small examination room and stepped on the scale, hoping I had gained weight. Morning sickness, or in my particular case, my all day sickness, was finally easing up. When the nurse checked my baby's heart, Luisa and I exchanged a smiling glance as we listened to the thump-thump. "Listen to your sister's heart beat," Luise said as she continued to turn the pages of the book she read to Ellie, who sat quietly on her lap.

Kim, my midwife, came in and asked if I was still spotting. When I responded I was not, she suggested we waited another week for the 4D ultrasound until Andy, my husband, could be there. My sister offered a dramatic, disappointed face. I had been looking forward to the ultrasound myself and was planning on taping it for him. More important, ultrasound is the only way to officially rule out Placenta Previa and I was eager to put it out of my mind.

We walked into the ultrasound room, Luise and I giddy with anticipation. Me, especially thankful to have my sister help with Ellie. I lied on the bed and uncovered my round belly, sporting the faded stretch marks from my previous pregnancy. The gel felt warm on my skin as the technician started doing the scan. She measured and checked as she explained what body parts we were looking at. She then pushed a key on her computer and in seconds, we were looking at the alien baby. Luise and I looked at each other and commented about how skinny she was, how weird to see her face, and wondered if she looked like Ellie. As the technician snapped pictures for us to take home, she was able to capture one of a smiling baby. It was precious. The baby growing inside of me was happy.

The technician pushed another key and we were back to the black and white screen. She kept checking and measuring, confirming that I no longer had a Placenta Previa. As I lied on the bed I asked, "Is her heart okay?" The technician looked at me puzzled, and it took her a few seconds to respond, "Why do you ask?"

Why did I ask? The question surprised me too. There was an awkward silence.

"Well" she continued, "I can see four chambers here," she pointed at all four of them individually with the cursor, "And that is a good thing."

Somehow, her response was not what I expected. I wanted to hear, "Her heart is great," or, "It looks normal." I dismissed my negative thoughts. After all, I am a self-diagnosed borderline hypochondriac--- if there is such a thing--- and I was letting it affect the thoughts I had about my baby. I suppose some might just call me neurotic.


If you did not get a chance, read the "Prologue" to my story: Road Marker 321

Next:
My Body is Cooking a Baby: Part 2
My Body is Cooking a Baby: Part 3

Winner of Book: A Good and Perfect Gift

1 What are your thoughts?
Here is the winner of the book! Bethany House will be sending the book directly to you, so make sure that you send me an e-mail address so that the publisher can contact you!

Congratulations!

Sunday, October 2, 2011

This Little Rascal is 4

5 What are your thoughts?
Nichole turned 4 years old today. I cannot believe how fast the lat 4 years have gone. I have a hard time letting go of my baby and seeing the little girl.  But she is getting so big.

Four years ago I had no idea how much this little girl was going to change me. Once the tears over her diagnosis were gone, she fueled me with love. A love that I had never known before.

This little girl holds my heart. She has it. And I feel incredibly blessed to have her in my life. There are times when I watch her intently. I watch her every move, the way she smiles, the way she twirls her hair. She is so perfect, so beautiful. 

Just like her mommy, she loves nutella, and we like to share a slice of bread with nutella for a snack,


She is a determined little girl. I can only begin to guess all that she will be able to accomplish.

And like her sisters, she is a princess. My princess Nichole. This child is God's child, and I have been given the honor to call her my daughter. 

She makes us smile an laugh as her personality develops. Ellie's learning project at school soon become the bunny ears that got this girl jumping. Little bunny hands and cute bunny noises that melt my heart. How can I refuse when she asks for Cheetos in a bowl?

My sweet little rascal, I love you more than words can describe. You are a gift from heaven. The joy and love you bring to us are a treasure.

Nichole got lots of great birthday presents. And she wants to show you one of them.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Road Marker 321 by Ellen Stumbo

8 What are your thoughts?
Prologue

I stood in the middle of a vast clearing. The breeze gentle as it stroked my face, and the air carried the sweet aroma of wild flowers. The sun delivered beautiful golden rays that pierced their way through cotton clouds and gently touched the horizon. There I was, eagerly waiting for the glorious moment when I would get to take my first step into the beautiful road that lay in front of me. The road that was full of everlasting rewards. A road that held so many of my dreams, my hopes, and my ambitions. One that promised so much joy, beauty, and love; it was inviting me to come, to enjoy, and to discover. The road of parenting.


The gate at the head of the road looked like it came from the land of fairies. Its arch covered with lavishing vines that entwined forming intricate patterns. Dozens of flowers decorated the gateway as it welcomed its travelers. Down the road, strong oak trees provided shade for parents to get their much-needed rest and gather their strength. There were rocking chairs scattered throughout the road occupied by women whose lips whispered lullabies to their sleepy little ones. Fathers beamed with pride as they carried their children and lifted them up over their shoulders for all to admire. As far as I could see, flowers of all sizes, shapes, and colors paved the way. Their delicate scent had made its way to the gate opening. The songs of birds were a perfect symphony that invited all to sing. I could hear cheers and applauses as children reached milestones and continued to walk farther down the road, into toddlerhood, childhood, and adolescence.

I watched as other parents took their first steps. Some were clumsy, some were nervous, and some were anxious. Some parents were experienced, having walked this road before. Some giggled, some cried. The excitement and wonder of welcoming a new life was contagious. The babies that they held close and tight, had captured their hearts, and changed their lives forever.

I was next in line. My turn was finally here. I stood at the gate with full confidence, ready to take that first step. My eyes fixed on the road ahead. The anticipation hard to contain. My determination and desire were almost tangible...

A gentle tap on my shoulder.

I turned around and next to me, stood God.

"Child" He said softly, "This is not the road you will travel."

I was startled, confused. He gently took me by the hand and led me to the opening of a different road. I had noticed the other roads at the clearing, but I had not paid attention to any of them. These other roads were not often traveled; they seemed lonely and rough.

"This one is for you." God said.

My heart sunk. This was not what I was expecting; it was not part of the plan, my plan. For there, before me, stretched a dark and gloomy road. The path was covered with thick and deep mud. There were decaying trees along the side whose branches hung low and heavily over the trail. The gray air was murky and suffocating. Slimy vines hung like a heavy curtain ready to trap all those who dared travel by. I could only imagine what other horrible sights awaited in the distance for I could only see so far.

"Lord," I dared say, full of fear and anguish, "I believe this is a mistake."

He smiled, looked me tenderly in the eye and whispered, "Sweet child, I don’t make mistakes."

With tears, I took the first step into the road labeled, "Down syndrome." Soon my tears were flowing like a river. The mud of the "characteristic physical features" was so thick. It was hard to walk, hard to lift my feet. There were places where I thought I would get stuck, or that the mud would drag me down and swallow me altogether. All the low hanging branches were different medical and physical problems. I was not able to avoid the cardiac and GI branches; I had to work my way around them. The air of intellectual disability made it almost impossible to breath, its derogatory term “retarded” was noxious. And the vines, they were everywhere! They were all the comments, the doctors, the looks, the whispers, the endless questioning, and my own thoughts.

I glanced back. I wanted to look at those traveling the beautiful road I had longed to travel. The one I had chosen. I saw the smiling faces and the many people walking through the gate. Oh, the beautiful sight! But that was not where my feet were standing. Here I was, trapped in an ugly prison. I wanted to get out. I was not supposed to be here!

I realized I was screaming. My sobs came from deep within my soul, and the anguish echoed around me. Yet, no one heard me. I felt totally and utterly...alone. I was lost.

After a while, the tears had been drained from my body. Without the constant veil, I was able to see more clearly, and a glimpse of light peered straight ahead. My heart started beating fast as I allowed myself to hope. I dragged my feet through the mud, I climbed over the branches, I held my breath, and I pushed the heavy vines out of my way.

A burst of light blinded me. I rubbed my eyes and slowly opened them. And here, in this path, there too was a gate. There was nothing spectacular about the gate; it wasn't fancy, and it was certainly not impressive. It was a simple wooden entrance, with a wide open door. Yet, it was so inviting, so peaceful, so comforting. My heart was immediately drawn to it. Without hesitation, I walked through.

The beauty stunned me. The air was deliciously refreshing. The trees seemed to touch the sky. The sound of birds reached my ears. It was no common bird song; it was music of the soul. The melody was so beautiful that it welled up inside me and I thought I might burst with joy! The flowers were unlike anything an ordinary person could ever imagine. If anyone would make a bouquet with these, there would be no worthy recipient to be found, except for God Himself. And the colors, oh the colors! These shades could only be found in Heaven...and on this road. I paused. What I saw before me was magnificent. I felt humbled. This road was paved with glimpses of God. My heart was overflowing.

I knew I would be taking this road at a slower pace, there was hardly a defined path. We would be facing the wild as we made our way through. Every step would be a new discovery that would reach all my senses. Things would take longer here, but that would make them more meaningful. I knew, that as I witnessed miracles, I would not dismiss them as natural and expected milestones. I smiled.

I realized then, that God was standing by me. He had been with me all along. Somehow, in my tears and anguish, I had lost sight of Him. I fell to my knees. He kneeled down beside me and grabbed my face. He gently cupped it in His hands. He looked at me tenderly, "Certainly, this road will not always be easy, and you might not see me, but I will be with you in every step. And your heart? It will forever be changed; for this child will touch you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Your understanding and experience of life and of My love will never be the same. I gave you this child, because you needed her, and she needed you."

He took me by the hand and helped me to my feet. With a grin on His face that made His eyes sparkle He added, "I love you, and I give good gifts to those I love. This child that I have given to you is mine, my beloved one, and a vessel of my love."

I stared into the open, unknown space before me, allowing myself to feel the warmth of my baby girl as I held her close. She would lead the way. I wanted to begin the journey. I lifted my foot and started walking. Walking into the wildness and beauty of the road.




ShareThis

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails