Note: The following two entries in my mom’s journal are hard. They’re sketchings from the road, not perfect prose written from comfort. Please be sure to read both…
My daughter was born 3 weeks ago with Down Syndrome. I can’t write about it yet. It’s too fresh — it hurts so bad inside. I can’t believe we’ve experienced this twice — sticky chromosomes!
Wondered if Elisabeth Elliot ever cried out, “Again?!” I have to go through this pain and grief again?! Please God, NO! I don’t want to! Teach someone else — haven’t I learned the lessons I was supposed to learn? Have I been that stubborn?
I need to read Job. I’m not asking for answers. I do need comforting. I feel so fragile, so scared. I feel like I have to have this fake front — so everyone else will be OK — Mark, the kids, everyone.
“Someone took a knife, edgy and dull, and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul.” — Bruce Springsteen
Now it’s been six months, and tears are still streaming down my face as I read the last entry. I’ve read this whole book and here I am again in God’s waiting room. My daughter is precious, gentle, sweet.
I thought today how easy it will be for her to be Christlike. In fact, the words he uses to describe himself are “mild and lowly” and I thought of all the words to describe Downs — loving, trusting, gentle — all synonyms for Jesus.
And I’m ashamed that I am so sad about her not being what I wanted. Twice when I wrote out prayer requests I could not write “healthy” baby; just “baby.”
It was like I felt God might want to show us another “gift” and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for what might be God’s best for our family. However I felt like I’d been hit hard — slapped down.
And then a guy at church says, “Are you going to risk it again?” As if we were going to Las Vegas!