What If I Had Known?

On the way to work today, I heard a news story about a couple in Oregon who sued and won a wrongful birth lawsuit.  Yes.  "A wrongful birth lawsuit."  They claimed that the doctor failed to correctly identify that their child was going to be born with Downs Syndrome.  Had they known, they say they would have terminated the pregnancy.  I am not writing this in judgment of their decisions or their situation.  They must live with the choices that they make in their lives.  Instead, I am writing from the perspective of what would I have done if I had known in advance about my youngest son's issues.  If I had known about all of the money we would spend; all the sleepless nights we would have; all the appointments and therapists who would visit; and all the stress and strain we would have on our relationships, would I have made the choice to keep him?

After a long, often stressful day working with adjudicated females, there are days I don't feel equipped to be his mother.  I don't feel up to being encouraging about practicing handwriting with a child who has expressive fine motor delays.  Practicing speech patterns with a child with disfluencies, speech blocks, and repetitive patterns is sometimes the last thing I want to do after a day of trying to motivate students who want nothing to do with learning or education.  Yet, it almost never fails that on these days, he ends up encouraging and motivating me.  As he sits at the table, with his characteristic death grip on that pencil, practicing those letters and words, he looks up at me with that smile that melts hearts and I can't help but feel ashamed of myself.  He has to work so hard to do things that come so easily to the rest of us, things we absolutely take for granted but he never gives up.  How dare I feel tired and overwhelmed when things come so easily for me?  This little man of mine teaches me a lot about strength and perseverance and most of all, humility. 

Patience.  Did I really know what that was before my youngest child was born?  I'm not sure I did.  Before he was born, I never faced the minutes as they crawled into hours, as a child struggled to breathe and I waited to be able to administer the treatment and medicine that may or may not get him relief.  In the days before he was born, I had never experienced the frustration and fear that comes with not knowing, not having a diagnosis or clear explanation why your child was delayed.  I had never had to wait for answers to questions that the experts didn't have answers to.  Before my son was born, I never had an argument with a child with no understanding of the concept of time.  Additionally, before my son was born, I had never attempted to complete homework with a child who writes in complete mirror image whenever he is tired.  Erasing the same sentence over and over, so that he can eventually write it down correctly.  No.  I don't think I knew the real meaning of patience.

Struggles and trials are part of our life with our son but there are so many snapshots of joy that come to mind when I think of him.  I love cuddling on the couch with him, reading stories or watching "his shows".  The image of him wiggling his little behind at us and singing "I'm sexy and I know it."  Yeah.  Try and keep a straight face with that one.  I dare you.  Picturing him as he walked backwards down our long driveway, painfully slowly, but step by step, here he came, because his brother dared him to.  When he reached the porch, he spun around with a smile bigger than the sun and ran in the door laughing.  Seeing him slurping wonton out of a bowl like it's leftover milk from breakfast cereal, then giggling and telling us how much he loved the egg soup.  Remembering him laying on the ground, while trying to fly a kite, because that's what his brother was doing, so that's what he wanted to do.  My favorite image is him falling asleep in the back of the truck as we drove home from hiking together.  He had managed to wiggle himself into the corner and looked so very, very sweet as he snored away like a little old man. 

Knowing what I know now, would I have made the choice to keep him?  Resoundingly, I say yes!  Life without my youngest would be like living life with the dimmer switch on.  The colors would be less vibrant.  The smells would be less sweet.  Without him, the laughter would be less spontaneous, less heartfelt.  Our appreciation of the little moments of joy would be less pronounced.  Because of him, I am tired and stressed and some days completely overwhelmed.  But because of him, I am also a better person, who has been touched by grace and given the opportunity to grow in ways I never could have imagined possible.  Thank you God for the chance to be his mother.  Thank you for the lessons that he teaches me on a daily basis.  I can't imagine a single day without him in my life.