The Blink of an Eye

The first thing I noticed was his eyes.  He was crying and I started speaking to him. He eyes turned to me and he stopped crying, immediately recognizing my voice.

What an amazing first contact with my newborn son that February morning.

Yet when he turned his eyes to me, one fleeting thought crossed my mind.  “This looks like a baby with Down Syndrome” the thought echoed.  Feeling horrible for even thinking this, I quickly pushed the thought away. I had never even seen an infant with Down syndrome before my son. Not knowingly anyway.

Yet four hours later, the doctor confirmed that my first fleeting thought wasn’t a fluke. In fact, somehow deep down inside, I had known immediately he had Down Syndrome.

Several hours later, as I looked and stared at him sleeping, I thought that the physical markers caused by his extra chromosome were so obvious, particularly when he was awake. As his almond shaped eyes opened, adjusting to the outside world, my heart sank deeper and deeper. His eyes were, for me, the most obvious confirmation of his diagnosis.

His karyotype testing wouldn't formally confirm the diagnosis for several days. But I knew it to be true. It was all in his eyes.



Then something happened the following days and weeks after that fateful day. My fears were replaced with relief and my feelings of loss were transformed into wonder and joy.

And those eyes- the ones I had trouble looking at without seeing a reflection of his diagnosis, became to me the most beautiful and dearest feature of his wonderfully formed body.

It’s been said that the eyes are the window to the soul. The longer he stared at me with his beautiful eyes, the more I learned about him. Without uttering a single word he seemed to be able to express volumes with his eyes and facial expression. His cries and noises took a backseat to his ability to communicate with his eyes. He would stare at me and seem to look right into to my soul through the windows in my own eyes.

Thanks to Facebook I've had the absolute privilege of seeing hundreds of beautiful boys and girls who share the same diagnosis, the same extra 21st chromosome, and the same almond shaped eyes as my son Alvaro. Now when I see those almond shaped eyes I don’t see a diagnosis. I don’t see despair. I don’t see a defect.

Instead I see joy. I see love. I see beautiful bright brushfield spots like rays emanating from the sun. Now when I see almond shaped eyes I see extraordinary and my heart squeezes with love and tenderness for those who have been gifted with those beautifully shaped eyes.


Now when I see the almond shaped eyes formed by an extra chromosome, I see my Alvaro. My surprise baby who stole my heart in the blink of an eye.

ALVARO

&

FRIENDS





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Lid

Image
When I was a child, my siblings, cousins, and I would spend our evening hours in the summer in hot pursuit of lighting bugs. The ideal lighting bug trap was a jar with a lid. When that wasn’t an option, we’d settle for clear plastic cups covered with aluminum foil for a lid.   It was always very important to poke holes in the lid. We did this to keep the bugs alive while in captivity. Then, after we had our fun enjoying their lights, we could uncover them and release them back to nature.   Seven weeks ago I gave birth to my own little lighting bug. Alvaro is as cute and precious as they come. And like a lighting bug when I was a child- he already fills my life with awe and wonder. Such is the nature of being able to witness the birth, growth, and development of my children. We as people come in all shapes and sizes, just like jars do. Some jars are dark, some light, others are tall, some short. You get the picture. Alvaro’s jar is wrapped with an extra chromosome. If his ja
Read more

Well Said

Image
I've been wanting to share a "Conversations about Down syndrome 101" on my Facebook for some time. So I decided it was time to contain it in a blog. Most of you know if you are a regular reader of my blog, that words are important to me. I seek to communicate clearly: to be heard and understand for what I am actually saying and meaning. I also seek to understand what someone else is actually saying and meaning, beyond their choice of words. This particular blog may make some people uncomfortable. You my read the following and say, " Um.... I said that - but I didn't mean it that way !"....   or " Why didn't you tell me that's how you felt about what I said ?" Please take note this is not a blog to address any specific conversation with any specific person. Before Alvaro I didn't know many individuals with Down syndrome (DS). In fact, I've met only one person and encountered him on less than a handful of occasions.
Read more

PTSD: A 6 Month Update

Image
It’s been 6 months since Alvaro’s accident. Six months since we were THISCLOSE from losing him. Six months since I have counted every day a blessing and have been more grateful than ever to have this child in my life and care. Interestingly enough, this 6-month mark is when I became aware I was suffering from PTSD. The shock of the trauma from his accident began to wear off a few weeks after it happened. Unfortunately, a whole new series of stressful and discouraging events immediately followed. This prevented me from being able to stop and breath and slow down. Simply put, I was in survival mode, dealing with one draining situation after another. Until one day I woke up and wondered how I had arrived at this place again? A place where I lacked self-care and rest. A place where I looked OK on the outside. I smiled and made jokes and told people I was hanging in there. But inside I was drained, dry, and depressed. On more than one occasion, I would admit the truth. Tha
Read more