My introduction to Noah

It's been nearly 19 months since I first established this blog page. While I had good intentions of writing, the new life that I had acquired with the birth of my sixth child, Noah, was going to take me on a wild ride; one in which, at times, I would not recognize as my own. Noah's Down Syndrome diagnosis at birth was a surprise to us. After having two level II ultrasounds at 18 and 20 weeks, both of which did not show any typical signs for Down Syndrome, we felt reassured that there would be no surprises for us. (The first had shown slightly larger ventricles in the brain, but a second look revealed normal measurements.) We had done no blood tests, not wanting to fret over possible false positive results or a possible amniocentesis (I was 39 at the time). After all, I was to deliver this baby the following February, was homeschooling my 10 and 8 year old sons and 6 year old boy/girl twins, all while keeping an eye on my 2 year old daughter. I was busy enough to not want to be bothered with a blood test.

I guess this is where God and my faith enter the picture. As we arrived to my eighth month of pregnancy, I started to get the feeling that there was maybe something a little "different" about the baby I was carrying. I had an ultrasound sometime after 30 weeks that seemed odd to me. This baby had his head turned upwards to have his mouth against the amniotic sac, making a sucking motion with its lips. I had never seen any of my other babies do that. I made mention of it to the ultrasound tech who replied that she saw it often. Not my babies. I had never seen it. There was something else that I can't quite recall now, but the feelings had been planted. However, I know, without a doubt, that God did not want me to know that this baby would test my faithfulness to Him, and that He held all of what was to come in His hands.

The time to meet our little bundle was growing near. I always had my babies in the 38th week (except for the twins arrival 2 months early, but that's for a different post!). We had two potential boy names chosen: Nolan, a strong, Irish name, or Noah, a (weaker, in my opinion) Hebrew name which meant "peacemaker". My husband and I were going back and forth with which one to choose and decided that we would wait for his arrival. I had the thought of putting the two names in a hat, drawing one, and sticking with it. However, I was scared to do that because I knew in my heart, "Noah" was going to be the name drawn.

I didn't get to 38 weeks, or even 37! I was in my 36th week and knew that I was going to be meeting him by the end of the week. Surely so, I was 36 weeks, 5 days when I went into labor. (That's another funny story for another post! I'll just say that because I had done this enough before, my husband didn't think it was a big deal for me to be serving mac 'n cheese to the little ones, while having to breathe through contractions, as well as get my bags, as he proceeded to get our pastor (who had come to stay with the kids until his wife arrived at our house) connected to the internet!) In just over an hour after arriving at the hospital, I was giving my last push to release my baby from the warm, cozy space in which he had been developing for the previous nearly 37 weeks.

I waited in anticipation of holding him and seeing his little face. He was handed to me, and I looked to take his appearance in. And then it hit me. Wham. Like a ton of bricks. It's as if my vision of the world around me changed.  My world had come to a screeching halt while everyone around me carried on with their normal activities after a mom delivers. "Doesn't anyone else see it", I thought to myself. I had lost my voice. I didn't want to believe what I saw. The "look" of Down Syndrome. In my baby. My husband finally came into my space, and I was able to get out "He looks like a Downs baby" quietly to him. "Oh, no, no. He just came out. He's all puffy", was my husbands reply. I knew better, I sat there holding him as shock was settling in. A thought that came to mind as I was holding my newborn son was that I was going to be 70 years old with a 30 year old still living at home. I tried to nurse him right away like I did with my other singleton babies, but he did not seem to know what to do, at all. Another stab.

A nurse came into my space on the other side of me to take the baby for his initial exam. I told her I thought he looked like "Down Syndrome". She said that the doctor would assess him and we would talk after. Stunned, I handed him over. As I sat there, I realized it. "Noah". It came out weakly at first, and I cleared my throat. "His name is Noah" I blurted, without even consulting with Aaron. Noah was the "different" baby that I secretly knew was going to come. There was so much more to him than I could have ever imagined, but God revealed things to me little by little. 

 

Having read, what seemed like random blogs after Noah's birth about experiences of parents of a disabled child , I was able to discover that our stories are very similar. No one expects to have a baby with a disability. It's never planned. It just happens. I believe that it happens to moms that are chosen by God, for whatever reason, to receive these "special" children. But I also believe that it turns out to be a gift so unimaginable. I'm still working that one out, and it may be over a period of years that I become fully aware of how Noah has gifted our family. They are referred to as "disabled" children, but I think I've seen this before; that they are "specially-abled" and Noah has done a lot for our family already.

When I sat down to start typing an hour and a half ago, I had no idea what I was going to write. I like to write, but am not sure that anyone would really want to read what I have to say. I can tell you for sure that I know, without a doubt, that we have Noah in our family for a reason, and I can't imagine not having him. I wrote a song about him near the end of his second month with us, to which, a friend graciously lent her voice and talent. I believe that I will share that in my next post.