Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Matt came home from work recently and told me that someone had apologized to him about Annie.

"I just heard your daughter has Down Syndrome.  I'm so sorry!" 

This wasn't our first apology for her.  They've come from all over.  Family.  Friends.  Co-workers. 

I asked him how he responded? (A punch in the face would probably be overreacting, right?). 

He said, "I just told her 'Don't be sorry!  I'm not!  She's the best thing that ever could have happened to us!'"  (I know, I know....I am blessed far more than I deserve with this husband of mine.) 

And a few days ago, a woman from church saw my sister and said, "I just have to ask, is your little niece a Down's baby?   I think she's adorable, but I noticed that a woman behind them last week gasped and looked kind of surprised when she saw Annie." 

I've sensed this same surprise from people when they see her for the first time; when they notice something is different.

Do you have any idea what it does to a mother's heart to hear someone apologize for her baby, or "gasp" at the sight of her child?

What do they mean by it, really, "I'm sorry??"  I'm sorry that your child is (fill in the blank): sick, imperfect, disabled, a challenge, a hardship, different, not what you expected......??

The thing is, I know people probably don't mean it this way.  I know hope they mean well.  I have to believe that they just don't know what to say. 

To those who may feel "sorry" for us, please don't.   Like Matt told his co-worker, we are not sorry!  The thing that makes me sorry is that so many people don't understand the gift that these beautiful children are.  I know I didn't understand it until we had her! 

The world may not always consider her as smart, but in her first (almost) 6 months, Annie is already becoming my greatest teacher.  She is:

    Refining me. 
    Realigning my priorities.
    Arising in me a new (com)passion and awareness.
    Pulling me away from the frivolity of this world.
    Eriching our family's life. 
    Bringing out strength I never knew I had.  
    Transforming my "I cant's" into "I can and I must."
    Redefining beauty and perfection. 
    Drawing Matt and I closer, to each other and to Him who strengthens us.

If she's anything like her big sister, Annie will love baby dolls and princesses, painting nails and dressing up, hairbows and headbands (all of which, by the way, mysteriously go to "hair accessory Heaven" after only one wearing.  every. single. time.), tutus and dance.  She will love cars and trucks, lightsabers and legos, basketball and tractor rides because, after all, she has 4 big brothers.  And if she's at all like her Mom and Dad, she will love to eat.  She already does.

 

 

 

Above all, Annie will love, and her ability to love and to be loved makes her no different than you and me.  No different. 

Maybe I "gasp" a little when I see her too, because I am in awe of her strength and her beauty.  Her potential.  Her wisdom beyond her years.  And maybe that's what that woman behind us in Church saw too.

I gasp, and I am sorry, for ever doubting her and for continually doubting myself. 

My sweet baby girl, we have only just begun. We have only just begun to experience the heartache this world often brings, and we have only just begun to experience the love and joy you bring. 

Good news is, love and joy will always win in the end. 

Always.

A 6 week post-surgery update:  Annie is doing fantastic!  She was able to come off of her Lovenox shots early (the blood thinner), so she is officially medication FREE now!!!  She has gained one pound since surgery (only 3 since birth!), making her a whopping 9lbs, 10oz as of yesterday....our little "Thumbelina!"  She meets more consistently with her physical therapist and intervention team now, and is showing great improvements in her reaching, grasping, and head control. 

Most importantly, she is HAPPY!!!