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I know too much.

I think the reason I am so scared of having a special needs child is that I already know how lonely it is. And I feel like just as I was clawing my way up out of my pit of doom, God stepped on my fingers and kicked me back down into the pit.

Back to a million therapy appointments. Back to trying to explain what you’re going through to people who literally can’t understand because they’ve never experienced it. Back to apologizing for insane behavior. Back to noticing people staring in the supermarket.

Fun fact: Did you know when you walk through a grocery store with children who are MULTIPLE different colors than you without an adult male in tow, you get some LOOKS.

I know. I need to meet other Down Syndrome families. I know. I’m going to make new connections. I know. This baby is a blessing. I know. There are so many resources.

I know.

But I also know what it’s like to try and confess your struggle and connect with someone and be dismissed. I know what it’s like to not be believed. I know what it’s like to accept public praise for “what you’ve done” while inside you’re fighting the urge to run. To scream. To quit.

I know too much about it. It sucks.

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Another Baby to Love

In my earliest stages of processing this grief the resounding cry that brought me to my knees was, “I just wanted another baby to love.”

When I processed what the rest of my life and my family might look like considering this special needs child I was about to inherit, that singular thought was the culmination of my anger.

To no ones surprise, adopting 3 kids with deep hurts has not been the easiest. It hasn’t been BAD but it has been lots and lots of work. Loving one another has not come easy from any involved parties. Forming healthy attachments with one another has taken intentional and thoughtful steps. Therapists galore. Mounds of books on trauma and love languages and parenting. Late night drinking and ice cream runs.

My point is that is has been non-traditional. If you’ve not adopted I can confidently say that you just don’t know. It is not the same. Again, not BAD but also not for the faint of heart. Forming healthy attachments with adopted kids from foster care flexes different muscles than attaching to neurotypical biological children.

Enter bio kid 1 in March 2020. Man, what a cake walk. Attaching to him was not something I had to evaluate and strategize. Just happened. And because it just happened I was able to enjoy so many maternal moments that I never had before despite already having 3 kids.

I.E. Running to me when I return home. Reaching for me. Insisting on sitting next to me. Listening to me. Being sad when I leave. Allowing me to help with simple tasks. Trusting me. Liking me. It was just easier. And God was I looking forward to having just one more chance at experiencing that kind of undiluted mutual adoration.

So when I was mad and yelling at God, I’d run through all my fears. All the reasons I was so mad He would do this to me. After all I had already been through? Really?!, “I just wanted one more baby to love!”

And then one day it hit me. In one sentence I was admitting that I didn’t think I would or could or wanted to love this baby.

And then I felt shame.

I still do.

I’m still working through it.

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Greed

I had no idea that I would love my baby so much. After we adopted our 3 oldest we really had no intention of having, biologically or otherwise, any more kids. We can thank a family trip to DisneyWorld (there are a lot of adorable babies there), my increasing age and a decision to finally make piece with my flabby dimpled body for the inspiration to have a biological child.

He was and is just the dreamiest. Knowing him is an easy adoration I have never experienced before and haven’t encountered since. My baby started giving me baby fever around 3 weeks old. And every moment with my baby was tinged with a slight grief that the moment I was in would come and go, never to be repeated. I felt jipped. It didn’t feel fair that just because we took a leap and adopted 3 kids, we couldn’t have a 2nd biological child. Because that would be 5 kids. Having 5 kids is insane. Who does that? Hardly anyone I know. You?

So we are having a fifth. I am 36 years old which places me just inside the geriatric/high risk pregnancy club. But whatever. I am physically healthy and mentally managed. My last pregnancy was perfect. Not worried. One bit. I would have my second, albeit last baby. No questions or concerns.

I thought it would be as simple as that. But our soon to be born baby has Down Syndrome and a congenital heart defect. Our already complicated story is about to get more complicated. And the worst part for me is the fear that I will miss much of my kids lives this next year while caring for this 2nd baby that I just had to have. We’ve read that the average Down Syndrome baby has around 130 Doctors appointments in their first year of life.

I’m sure there is some story being written here where I will eventually say, “It’s not what I wanted but it’s what we needed.” I’m sure I will love this baby. I’m sure her siblings will love her. I’m sure we will make it.

But it’s not what I wanted and I’m scared that I do not have enough of myself left to give to another worthy cause. I thought I had already signed up for enough hard work.

“There is no greater guilt than discontentment.” ~ Lao-tzu