The Perfect Baby

 by Patricia Lawhorn

    I’ll never forget the day that I found out that I was pregnant.  It was just after Christmas, one of the coldest days of the year.  Snow had been falling all day.  I had been feeling sick now for some time. I had stopped off at the pharmacy, on my way home from work, to pick up a home pregnancy test. After arriving home, I rushed to put my things away.  I had an overwhelming urge to find out if was true.  “What will I tell my husband?” I thought to myself,  “I think he’ll be happy; he has always wanted another baby.” After reading the instructions over and over again to insure accuracy, I took the test.  It took about five minutes for the test to confirm what I already knew in my heart; I was pregnant. The first thing that I did was run out of the bathroom and told my husband.  After starring at the test stick for fifteen minutes, my husband put his arms around me.  With tears in his eyes he said, “This is going to be perfect. ”

    I spent the next nine months preparing for the birth of this “perfect baby,” daydreaming, as every parent does, about what their baby will look like, where they will go to school, if they will ever get married. I prayed every day that I would be a good mom.  I done [did] everything that I could to be good while I was pregnant.  I never drank alcohol, did drugs or smoked.  I walked every day and religiously took my vitamins.  At night my husband would read to my stomach, hoping that our child would grow up with a passion to read.  I read books that would hopefully prepare me for the perfect birth.  After all, giving birth looks easy on TV.

    The day finally came to deliver my baby.  I wasn’t worried at all, since the doctors had told me everything was perfect through my pregnancy.  A cold chill ran up my spine as I thought of those words, but I wasn’t quite sure why. After performing an ultrasound, my doctors told me that I would have to deliver my baby by C-section because the baby was in breech position.  “Just make sure he is safe ”, I told the doctor.  I prayed that my baby would be safe. 

    I delivered Aaron Micheal Lawhorn at 9:18 pm.  The surgery went well.  The nurses cleaned Aaron up and handed him to me.  I looked deep into his eyes; my heart dropped as I realized something wasn’t quite right.  I must have counted fingers and toes ten times.  Everything was there.  The nurses and the doctors said that he was fine. “Maybe it is just first time mom paranoia, ” I thought to myself.  I would all too soon find out.

    It was the day that we were set to go home.  My husband and I were packing to leave the hospital, when the doctor came in.  I’ll never forget his words as long as I live.  He said, “I have some concerns about your son.”  After along silence the doctor went on to say, “ I think your son has Down Syndrome.” I immediately fell into pieces.  This couldn’t be; where was my perfect baby, the one that I have imagined and dreamed about for nine months?  I even thought that he was talking about a different baby.

   We took our baby home.  Devastated, I could hardly look at our baby.  Mostly out of quilt I think; did I do something to cause this?  I had been so good during my pregnancy.  Could my love be so conditional that I can’t even bond with my own baby? My husband was just the opposite.  He began doing research about Down Syndrome.  He found books and searched the internet day and night.  He said knowledge was power.

    A week had passed, and it was time or Aaron’s one-week check-up.  After the doctor came in and examined Aaron he had another bombshell to release on us.  He explained that 80% of kids with Down syndrome suffer from a congenital heart defect, and Aaron in fact was one of them.  He went on to explain that the defect was so serious that it would require open-heart surgery or Aaron would die. For the second time in two weeks our lives would be forever changed.  However, for the first time I could honestly say that I wanted Aaron to live.  This was the first time since his birth that I could say that, and mean it.  I loved my so and I wanted him to live.  I felt so good to have these maternal feelings.

    Aaron did have surgery and recovered fantastically; I learned some important things about myself.  My idea of what “perfect” was changed.  Perfect was the little boy that god gave me, the little boy that needed his mommy and whose mommy needed him.  Perfect is what I had all along.

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