This blog is based off of the well-known saying “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”
I have my moments, but I really do try to live by this rule. Kara is the best kind of reminder. However, I realize that its not realistic (or healthy) to ONLY act positive & optimistic.
I’m afraid that someone stumbling across this blog may get the wrong impression.
Our lives aren’t perfect.
I’ve always tried to be raw and deep with my words, but I am naturally a “half glass full” kind of person. My posts tend to conclude with a more sunshine-y attitude. If you think that our lives are always this way – you are wrong. You are getting the benefit of reading my words after I’ve straightened them out in my head.
Once a blog post is published, the thoughts have already filtered through my brain. I’ve had a chance to process and (usually) calm my emotions.
The point of me sharing our story is to show that there is a place that is HAPPY again and that the sad, broken feelings that lead up to that point are NORMAL.
I want to be a source of optimism, but I also want to be available for those who aren’t feeling that way. I adore my daughter more than words can say, but that deep, dark hole you might feel like you’re falling into? I get it. I still find myself in that hole sometimes.
Being a special needs mom isn’t easy.
Getting that diagnosis wasn’t easy.
A prenatal diagnosis is no easier than a diagnosis at birth.
We had a prenatal diagnosis & just because we chose to keep our baby, doesn’t mean that we knew the first thing about Down syndrome. That doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. That we didn’t grieve. That we don’t still re-visit those feelings every once in a while. We were still blind-sided.
We didn’t decide against termination because we felt comfortable with Down syndrome. We kept her because she was our child and we were willing to learn & grow. Knowing doesn’t necessarily mean understanding.
To be clear, learning that the baby I was growing had a genetic disorder was one of the hardest things I’ve experienced. It was like someone took us by the shoulders, turned us about-face and before we even had the chance to protest, shoved us in the wrong direction. I barely had time to breathe before all the awful stereotypes came stampeding through my head.
Testing for a genetic disorder is not the same as looking for a way out.
Once we were expecting our second child, we knew without a doubt that we were going to do the testing again. We had the testing in our first pregnancy only because we wanted to know the gender sooner.
Things were different this time – WE were different this time. We were little less naive. Even if the odds were slim-to-none that our second baby would have a genetic condition, we still held each others’ trembling hands.
Our reasoning was to either ease our minds or to prepare ourselves for whatever else life could throw us. We did not test so we could have the option for termination, but we also waited (very) nervously for those results.
Yes, we wanted our second child to be neurotypical.
When Baby No. 2’s genetic results came back as low-risk, we breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Why were we so relieved? Why did we so desperately want those low-risk results?
It’s difficult to put these feelings into words because logic just doesn’t fit here. Down syndrome is now a part of our lives and I wouldn’t change that for the world. I love every part of Kara, including her extra chromosome. My life is exponentially happier because of her.
Down syndrome has brought SO MUCH GOOD into our lives, but it also comes with a longer list of things to worry about. People with Ds are at a higher risk for a multitude of things. So no, I didn’t want that for my second child. Being a special needs mom is eye-opening and beautiful, but its also very very hard.
Whatever challenges arise in the future (and they will), I will never regret our decision to proceed with my pregnancy after getting our diagnosis.
I would make the same decision for any child I carry.
Life has a way of challenging us in unexpected ways. I’ve labeled myself an optimist, but I’m no better than anyone else. I still have my daily struggles. In fact, I’ve battled anxiety and depression for years.
Only through struggles have I learned that the best way to cope is to roll with the punches. I spoke once about my mantra “It is what it is” & how it helped pull me out of the sticky mud that I found myself in after our prenatal diagnosis. You can read it here.
This isn’t meant to be an optimistic post, but its not a pessimistic one either. It’s realistic. It’s how things are.
Sometimes life gives you lemons, what you make of it is up to you.
I get it. When I found out my baby girl might have Ds, I cried. I wanted my baby to be neuro-typical. I was afraid of having 2 children with special needs, afraid that I would fail both of them as a mom. Afraid of everything that the stereotype told me Ds would bring with it. But, as you said, you take what life gives you and do the best you can with it. Sometimes, it feels that people going through it are afraid to say the hard feelings and scaring away people who are just starting the journey. But it is important to share the hard things too so that people feeling them know that it is normal and they aren’t alone.
Thank you so much for sharing this 🙂
Lissa you are such a good example! You do a phenomenal job with your babies (who are so perfect in their own way). I appreciate you reading ♥️
Thank you. So. Much. Straight to my heart. And I so needed to read this today.
Thank you for reading. It was hard putting it out there – I’m so glad you got something out of it!