First came the oldest brother, excited and revved up to be in the heart of his swarming elementary-age crowd.
Conscious of the presence of friends and teachers all around, he threw his rings haphazardly and without focus ~
as though to say, 'Well... I wasn't *really* trying!' and then grinned broadly as he caught the eye of a buddy.
"Go grab a prize anyway, young man!" the woman in charge smiled.
His little brother was just about to step forward for the ring toss when a plaintive screeching came from the stroller at their side.
"NO MEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! NO MEEEEEE!!!! MEME GO!!!"
The two year old birthday girl attempted to forcibly wrench her body free from its constraining stroller straps. "MEME TURN!!!!"
She twisted her entire body around to the side to gain my attention and tugged hard on my pants. "MEME TURN!!!"
"Okay, birthday girl. Your turn." Motioning to her brother, I indicated that he could go next and we released her from the stroller. She bounded forth to the front of the line and picked up a ring.
"Oh, really?" the woman asked me, noting the tender age of this tall toddler. "Well, okay. Here you go, honey!" and she stepped out of the way so that my daughter could see the posts.
The two year old didn't hesitate for a moment. She tossed the ring expertly and with no fanfare it plopped directly onto the middle, hardest-to-reach post. She had won the game on her first throw!
"WOW!" exclaimed the woman.
"I WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" My little girl danced around with her cuddly arms waving in the air.
"Yep. That's my girl all right," I nodded and smiled.
You see, I know what the rest of the world is bound to discover sooner than later. This is one powerful little girl who knows what she wants and makes it happen.
She has the heart of a lion and the strength of an ox. She's enormously bright and focused, not overly sensitive, and extremely motivated. In short, my just-turned two year old is a mover and shaker. She's a girl on fire with life, just brimming over with it.
I do not worry for her one bit any more. Not one bit.
However, it wasn't always this way... What a difference two years make. Wow.
* * * * * *
By mid-February of 2009, my third pregnancy had swerved unexpectedly from peaceful and relaxed to grueling and full of potential heartbreak.
I'd fallen pregnant in October, just a few hours after my husband and I agreed that we definitely wanted to try for a third baby... in about three months. Apparently this little spirit saw the green light and dove right in, because her conception occurred nearly instantly.
At the time I was physically in better condition than I'd been since at least 2004, feeling amazing and exceptionally motivated. My gluten free cooking and blogging were going well, our life in the small island town was lovely and our sons were growing rapidly.
"They're getting so big," I'd confided in my journal, "and soon they will pass me by. I yearn just ONE more time to smell the sweet scent of baby shampoo - to cuddle one more blessed baby of my own; to complete our family."
From October through January my husband and I were effusive in our excitement about the pregnancy, which we were positive would result in a third boy.
We had even picked out a boy's name after seeing the movie Brideshead Revisited, there was a character whose name really struck me and I turned to my husband and said -
"I LOVE THAT NAME"
"Actually, I love that name too," he replied - and that was that.
On January 6 I made a comment in the margin of my pregnancy book, "Other than a lot of morning sickness and a few round ligament pains so far, it has been a pretty relaxed pregnancy and I sometimes even forget we are pregnant. We have our first major ultrasound this Friday!"
Our perfect little boy was all set to go, signed sealed and on his way to delivery...
Or so we'd thought.
Friday came and brought with it a new world. A new universe, actually.
At our big 11 week appointment the ultrasound tech had performed a 'routine' nuchal screen and then excused himself for a moment. When he returned, he brought with him the head of the perinatal center.
"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. ******. Your baby measured today with an unusually wide nuchal fold. This could indicate problems with the pregnancy. We strongly recommend getting an immediate panel of bloodwork to go with this nuchal screen, in order to develop an idea of your true risk."
"Risk for what?"
"Well, in cases like this we sometimes see Down Syndrome, or Trisomy 18... but then again, it might turn out to be nothing."
"Oh, and incidentally," he smiled as he was leaving the ultrasound room - "Would you like to know the gender?"
My husband and I nodded.
"Congratulations! You're having a daughter. I have one of those and she is the absolute light of my life." He and the tech quickly left us alone in the room so that I might have privacy while dressing.
We sat dumbfounded, silent.
* * * * *
"Questions for the Genetic Counselor" - read the title to my next journal entry. A few of the many issues that had kept us awake at night since the unexpectedly earthquake-like morning of our ultrasound:
- Can you explain the significance of a 2.6mm thickness?
- How much of a role does family history play in Down Syndrome?
- What are the tests that can be used to confirm or dismiss Down Syndrome or Trisomy, and what risks do they pose to our child?
- Why were the echocardiogram and extra ultrasound indicated?
- What does it mean that the nasal bone appears 'non-ossified'?
Over time we were to find out that this was only the beginning of the longest, most intense five months we'd experienced together as a couple.
First, the Down Syndrome and Trisomy risk. Then three weeks later we learned I had what is called a Placenta Previa... meaning that the placenta had positioned itself right at the edge of the cervix, almost covering it - and that if it did not move significantly by the time of delivery I would need a c-section (which at the time seemed like the end of the world to me, a woman terrified of surgery who had successfully given birth to two sons the 'normal' way).
The perinatologists placed me on bed rest. Month after month passed essentially imprisoned at home, hoping and praying as my belly grew that (a) I would not hemorrhage as the doctors feared, (b) The placenta would move away from the cervix and give me the chance for a regular third birth, (c) The baby would survive, and (d) The baby would be healthy.
After much soul searching and an ocean of tears, my husband and I concluded that we could not terminate our pregnancy under any circumstances - despite our mutual support for a woman's right to choose - and we declined all further genetic testing.
At 28 weeks the ultrasound at last revealed - Hallelujah! - that the placenta previa had finally moved and was no longer medically threatening. I experienced at least five minutes of pure, elated, victorious joy.
Then, in the same appointment, I was informed that our baby had what is called an "echogenic bowel" or a 'homogenous, hyper-echogenic lesion in the lower abdomen that does not shadow'. Essentially the ultrasound tech was concerned that it might be an indicator of exposure to Parvovirus B19, which could cause the baby to suffer from hydrops and was also a strong indicator of Down Syndrome. The perinatal center asked me to return for weekly ultrasounds over the coming ten weeks.
That night I wept and wrote, "Every day I am working on taking things one step at a time. I am trying hard to eat well and stay relaxed. I feel so lonely and trapped... All of this really could be leading us toward Down Syndrome and if that is the case, I accept it. I just love my little girl and want to do whatever I can for her. I have felt very tired and alone throughout this pregnancy. Unfortunately there isn't anything I can do from this point forward except be patient and brave. I should just be grateful for small miracles."
It was May 1, 2009. I had technically just begun my third trimester of pregnancy, and did not know how I would make it through another nearly three months of ultrasound hell.
A good friend of mine suggested that I try to speak to my baby directly, through meditation and focused imagery. "Ask the baby what is wrong and why she this pregnancy has been so difficult," my friend advised, "and try to get a sense of who she is."
With nothing to lose and a heavy heart, I began to try to meditate late at night when our house was quiet and speak to this unknown child whose pregnancy had become so fraught with stress and despair.
"Why is this experience so rough for us?" I asked the baby.
"Who are you, little spirit?"
For a while, there was no answer. Typically I fell asleep while meditating.
Then one night, somewhere around 3AM as I sat awake wired and worried, unable to sleep... something happened.
An energy came through - I had the strongest impression of it!!! This vibe was strong, zesty, and totally different than I would have expected from a weak or sickly creature.
"I DON'T LIKE THIS!!" A surging energy pulsed through me as I 'heard' the baby communicate. "I CHOSE YOU BUT YOU HAVE TO BE READY FOR ME!!!!"
"Who are you?" I asked... and this is what I scribbled down in the middle of that dark night - first impressions of my unborn daughter.
She is sparkly.
She is determined and stubborn.
She is dazzling.
She wants to have more fun than this!
She wants to get out.
Her energy is yellow and a brilliant emerald/blue green.
"We want you," I assured her. "We're ready and we really, really want you."
* * * * * * *
In the morning I told my husband all about the waking vision I'd had of our child.
"You know what's funny about that," he remarked - "For a while now despite current appearances and all of this Down Syndrome stuff, I've had the feeling that she is going to be our strongest, toughest, healthiest child. I think this is going to be one little girl that gives us a run for our money. She's a survivor."
* * * * * * *
He was right. Weirdly, we were both right!
Although our daughter ultimately came into the world by unexpected c-section 6 weeks before her due date, she outshone all predictions. No Down Syndrome. No Trisomy. No Hydrops. No Bowel Obstruction.
In fact, she was a perfectly healthy small baby. Born at 33 weeks 6 days gestation she could already breathe on her own. Within a week of NICU care she'd learned the sucking/feeding reflex. Two weeks after her birth she was discharged home with us at a whopping 4 lbs 10 oz.
Our nightmare was over.
From the moment of her birth this remarkable little girl has made herself known around town in every possible way. She shot off the preemie growth chart rapidly, much to the shock of our pediatrician who laughed, "I'm impressed!" Since that time our daughter has consistently registered in the 95th percentile height for all children of her age.
Over the past two years she has speedily become one of the most vivacious, self-possessed, effusive, triumphant, silly, fun, mischievous little people I have ever met. She sings. She dances. She draws. She tries to read. She talks ALL of the time. She imitates and adores her big brothers. She also beats up on them frequently and they (mostly) take it in stride because she is so darn cute!
This little princess wants to do everything the boys can do... to the (hilarious) point of trying recently to pull out her "pee pee" from her shorts to use the potty standing up, only to discover to her great chagrin that she doesn't have one!
In sum, our third child is a veritable whirling dervish of intelligent, exciting energy. She is boisterous and in charge, a girl who knows her own mind.
She is EXACTLY the dazzling, impatient child who 'spoke' to me from the womb that dark night long ago.
"How did I know?" I ask my husband from time to time, shaking my head in wonder.
"The same way I did," he smiles. "She told us."
Your Dad and I love you so much, sweet pea. You are the spunkiest, feistiest, loveliest little girl in the world. Happy Birthday... and thanks for deciding to keep us around ;-)
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