One year ago today...

     My dearest Natalie. Today you are celebrating your 1st birthday. What a wonderful year it has been. I remember every detail the day you made your debut. Nothing happened the way we planned it. At 11am, when mommy was supposed to be in the OR, the lead anesthesiologist was on her 7th try at getting my IV in place. I almost passed out, TWICE!  And when she said that she might have to put the line in centrally (in my neck), I was ready to walk out. Daddy claims he wouldn't have let me leave, but I sure would've enjoyed seeing him try to stop me!  You will quickly learn, stubbornness runs maternally & paternally for you...good luck with that!   

  We knew well in advance of your birth that you had a complete AV canal defect and you'd require open heart surgery, we just didn't know when surgery would take place. Your cardiologist reported, "she could need it immediately or she could go 3 or 4 weeks before requiring surgery. We just won't know till she’s outside the womb".

    On January 28^th 2011, Daddy was the first to have a glimpse of you, besides all the medical staff, mommy had to wait till you were checked out by the NICU team.  You scored a 7 on your first Apgar, and an 8 on the second. Your team of doctors & nurses were most pleased with how well you were maintaining your O2 levels, so they let Daddy carry you across the room, to the surgical table, to meet me. You were so peaceful swaddled in your blanket & hat.  You looked like one of your sister’s baby dolls. I had him hold you close enough so I could kiss you and breathe in your new baby smell, had I not been tethered to the operating table I would have scooped you up and never put you down.  Once my O2 nurse blotted my tears, of pure joy, away, that's when I noticed. You had distinctive folds in the corners of your eyes and the skin on the back of your neck appeared full. Your features were not prominent, so I doubted my suspicions. The thoughts of "does Natalie have Down Syndrome?" made my heart beat extra hard and I felt as if all the blood had exited my body, I felt cold and shaky throughout. I whispered to your daddy "do you think she has Down Syndrome?” he glanced at me and shrugged his shoulders and immediately readjusted his happy gaze back to you. The NICU team only gave us 2 minutes to enjoy you before they whisked you away in a little incubator. That's when the tears of fear started flowing, fear of the unknown. Were you going to be ok?  Were you going to be taken to A.I. DuPont Children’s Hospital?  Did you have Down Syndrome? If so, would you be high functioning?  Would you live with us forever or would you move out with friends or a boyfriend?  Was I strong enough to be the mom you needed me to be?

   Once I was settled in recovery, we immediately powered up our phones to share the happiness of your birth, many people (Mumsie, pops, gram & Kelly) were just as concerned, as your mommy & daddy were, about your outcome. We were thrilled to say that you were in stable condition, that news spread like wildfire!  When the Neonatologist walked in to our room, I knew why he had come. He looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world. As he talked about your heart defect and how along with that, sometimes there's a chromosomal abnormality. I just smiled and said "yeah, I thought she might have Down Syndrome. I just wasn't sure.”  He smiled back and appeared relieved that I wasn’t going to have the reaction he anticipated that I’d have.  Once the doctor had confirmed our suspicions, daddy and I took a moment to process the info.

      Since you were in the NICU, I wasn’t admitted to the post-partum floor, instead I went to the high-risk OB floor, as there are no babies on that unit.  It felt like an eternity for the nurse to do my assessment, all I wanted was to visit you in the NICU.  It had been several hours and I was aching to hold you in my arms and have snuggle time.  Sadly, I had to wait for the rest of the spinal block to wear off, go for a walk around the nurse’s station and wait for escort to bring a wheelchair.  I remember the ladies at the NICU desk were not friendly and there was a strict scrub down process before we were allowed access to the nursery.  Once we navigated the maze of incubators, we finally reached our destination.  You looked so cozy.  You were calm, quiet and settled.  And I couldn’t wait to snatch you up, un-swaddle you and hold your bare body against mine.  I wanted nothing more than to try and nurse you.  Since your Neonatology team whisked you away from our OR so quickly, they wrote your name down incorrectly.  You were listed as “Nathan”.   Naturally, your NICU nurse thought you were a boy and she admitted she was quite a surprised and confused when she changed your diaper!

    During your, much shorter than anticipated 30 hour stay in the NICU, it seemed as if the staff interacted as little as possible with us. It was as if they were afraid to mention the words “Down Syndrome” or “Trisomy 21”, fearful that a meltdown would ensue.  No meltdowns here.  Just fear of the unknown, panic about your potential needs and anxiety about our future together.

    Here we are.  Exactly one year later.  As I rock you to sleep and breathe you in, I can’t help but think of the movie Home Alone.  Specifically the scene where Macaulay Culkin goes outside in the dark to announce to the world “Hey, I’m not afraid anymore.  Did you hear me?  I said…I’m not afraid anymore!”

      My dearest Natalie, I'm no longer afraid.  I'd like to think that this is the best gift you received today. Happy 1^st Birthday Love Bug!