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…

Jonathan Trotter

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February, 1993

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?

Whatever.

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.

It’s like,

“Someone took a knife, edgy and dull, and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul.” — Bruce Springsteen

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July, 1993

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!

 

A Mother’s Journey: Table of Contents