Truth
The second I saw him, I recoiled.
A horrible feeling swelled in the pit of my stomach. I immediately knew what was wrong "he has Down syndrome..." the thought rushed through my mind. A fear of death and raw self-preservation reared its head and warned me to not bond with this child.
I held him anyway. I touched him, whispered love in his ear.
The days after Andrew was born was filled with a roller-coaster of feelings and emotions. Every turn of every conversation, diagnosis, message and new thought that entered my mind, rolled with changing direction and intensity. I was scared, confused, hopeful, overcome with dread, anchored in peace, optimistic, vulnerable.
My feelings were not the enemy. They were just not the master.
I made a very conscious decision in these early moments to build a foundation on truth, and this would be reflected in the words I shared and the actions I took. I trusted the feelings would follow.
I stood on the principle that every life was precious, regardless of physical, intellectual or emotional capacity. I rested in the truth that my God was good, and that He was sovereign over these circumstances. I let go of control and trusted that God would provide everything we needed to navigate this journey. I held onto the conviction that I was loved beyond measure by God, and this curve-ball would not dent this conviction.
It wasn't long before my feelings caught up to my actions and I became overwhelmed with a sense of love and protection for my son. His big brothers, Peter and Paul, had little trouble feeling the same. I could see it in their unabated eagerness to love on Andrew.
I had a strong conviction to share our journey. At the same time, I had an even stronger conviction to be very mindful about how I should share. This was not a holiday that was going horribly wrong, I did not have the luxury of creating an explosive emotional blame-fest or indulge in self-pity. A new life had begun and as his mother, I was building the foundation of his future. Too much was at stake to get this wrong.
When I thought about his future, I was scared, uncertain. What would people think of him, of us, when they found out? I decided to speak truth before anyone could speak otherwise. I wrote simply his diagnosis. I wrote truth of this beautiful bundle of life, of his value as a member of our family. I watched in wonder as love and support poured out from those around us.
I was concerned how we would manage financially, and rightly so, our businesses sustained a significant hit in the months to come. I reminded myself of God's promise to provide. Financial support flooded in. We are not yet out of the woods, but I fall back on truth of God's provision over circumstances and I hope to soon share the end to this story.
Today, I still carry that uncertainty of the future. I think I will always ask the question "why" until I meet God in heaven, but until then, I turn my thoughts to trusting in His sovereignty and love. And in those moments when feelings of uncertainty take the upper hand, I remind myself of the joy that lives in the moments, when I look on my family and realise the richness that this unexpected life is giving us.