I did not need a sonogram to tell me Knox was a boy. I think Matt actually wished Knox into being a boy. Walker is all boy; no guess work was ever required. With Ivey, Matt knew from the dawn that she would be a girl. This time he did not need a picture to tell him. The dream of our family was complete. There would be a mother and father, two sons, and one princess.
Plans for our future began to evolve. We are all guilty of it. We lay out our children’s futures before they have the opportunity to show us who they will become.
Matt and I made plans for Ivey- everyone did. She would have my blonde hair and my eyes. She would act more like Matt; she would forgo my lack of patients. I can remember someone saying, 'She'll be your very own cheerleader.' My thoughts to that, 'Ughhhh, the DRAMA.' Nonetheless, deep inside that is what I had wanted.
Nine months passed…..the night came; labor began. The dream was almost here.
Labor began at 2:00 am and was over by 5:30 am. She was in a hurry, no time to spare.
In an instant, one life began, one dream ended.
No? Will the world stop spinning for just one moment? What do you mean there is a problem? What cleft lip? What do you mean there is only residual tissue in place of her eyes? You think there are more issues? You are uncertain that she will live? But I thought I heard her crying? She must be okay? You must do testing? Can I just see my baby? Where is she now? When can I go to her? But.....?
What do I do with the dream?
A cloud settles in and you begin to move through the fog. Eventually the fog rises and all that is left are raw emotions. The dream does not vanish. It does not just go away. It is hopeless to pretend it never existed.
So, I mourned just as you would a death. In some fallible way, a death did occur out of the birth of life. I grieved for the daughter I had lost. I grieved for the daughter I had gained. I grieved for her uncertain future. I grieved for my own uncertain future. I grieved for her loss of friendships. I grieved for her loss experiences. I grieved for the loss of her future husband. I grieved for the loss of her future children. I grieved for the loss of my future grandchildren. I grieved for her. I grieved for the nine months of not knowing - of not having the mother’s intuition that there was a problem. I selfishly grieved for myself and the changes that were being instituted into my life, my husband's life, and my sons' lives.
Grieving is healthy. Normal. Necessary.
We will all grieve at some point in our lives. It is what we do with the grief - how we proceed through it that will define us. It will either make us stronger or it will weaken us. Some people encourage us during this time, some try to tell us how to grieve, others can try to make us feel guilty. I had to grieve 'my way' - there was no other way.
The grief slowly subsided.I can remember mom saying to me, 'You have to get over this; it's done.' My mom has been here every second I have needed her. It is hard to watch her sometimes. She is a very strong woman, but there are days she has to watch her daughter and her granddaughter hurt, and there is nothing she can do to help. She and I have a very strong relationship and can speak honestly to one another, even the unpleasant words. When she made that statement to me, she was trying to push me on through. I turned to her and said, 'You had two healthy daughters. You have no idea. As much as you love Ivey, you can not possibly understand what it is like to watch your own flesh and blood hurt, and at times be the one to hurt her, or be the one to make choices to hurt her. You go home and lay your head down on your own pillow in a quite house-a break from the pain.' My mom just looked at me and said, 'I can not imagine living one day in your shoes.'
During those days I could literally feel God's presence at times. He was there. Still is. I think he smiles to see Ivey and our family now.
I still have a dream for Ivey. This dream is full of love and friendships. Many things that most little girls will do Ivey will never do. But do not think that she is loosing out in this life. Quite the opposite!! She has qualities that I deem as being superhuman. She makes us happy. She gives unconditional love. She sees you for what you really are on the inside. She opens hearts. She impacts lives. She is a vision of God. She can make people change to be better. She does all of these things and she can not even speak yet. The paths that she will take are enigmatic and I am so very blessed to be the one who will accompany her on her journey.
Ivey is a princess in a fairy tale. Just like Cinderella - it has taken some time to find the glass slipper - now the slipper is on and fits perfectly. The DREAM is just beginning.
15 comments:
Gwen, this is such a beautiful post! One you will want to read to Ivey when she is older.
I feel that the Lord has BIG plans for Ivey. She is so special. And has taught me much in her little life.
My Pastor wrote a worship song that we often sing about how God sometimes rains His power and grace down upon our spiritual droughts. I often think of Ivey when we sing it. I think because of when you took her outside to "feel" the rain. But I also think God wants to remind me when I sing that song thru Ivey that His power and blessings aren't often what we think. They come in ways we often wouldn't plan or want, but end up being the biggest blessings.
I can rest in God's goodness when I think of little Ivey. He loves her so much and has plans for her life. I'm thankful to have been touched by her!
Gwen- I am going to link to this post from my blog, if that is OK. It is truly one of the most honest, beautiful, TRUE things I have read. I was just writing about faithfulness today then I came over and read this. My family is so blessed by your faith!
Gwen, I found you via JenMom's site. I've visited a few times, but never commented.
I, too, grieved for my son, Jack. Jack was not the child I'd envisioned...he was born with Downs and we did not know beforehand. I felt like the child I'd envisioned for 9 months faded away like smoke...and Jack was what we were left with. I feel so ashamed of my feelings after he was born and I've expressed those feelings HERE . But Ivey and Jack have a purpose. They are part of a plan that we didn't create...but I am very, very happy to be a part of. Ivey is beautiful and so fortunate to have parents that love/appreciate/accept her for who she is! God bless all of you!
Absolutely beautiful.
Thank you so much for sharing your heart! I, too, can't wait to see what God has in store for your little princess! I praise God for her!
Sorry...this is the HERE link I meant to put! I wrote this one morning when I finally 'got it.' It took 3 years for me to 'get it.'
http://superduperjack.blogspot.com/2007/01/ramblingsbut-theres-point.html
:)
Gwen- I am overwhelmed by this post. It is one of your best posts. I am so grateful to know you, Ivey and the rest of your family. Thank you for continuing to share and for being such an inspiration to me.
what a beautiful post--it reminds me of this classic poem:
"Welcome to Holland" by - Emily Pearl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this:
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.
I appreciated this and the last post. First of all, I'm glad you didn't hit the delete button. Secondly, this post is absolutely beautiful. I understand how one needs to grieve. Oh, how I have grieved over my own daughter's circumstance. The losses but yet how we've gained because of her little life, as you shared about how you've gained because of Ivey's. Words cannot fully express how much I appreciated this post. There are many in my face-to-face reality that don't understand how I feel but I find that there are those in "blogworld" that understand these things, although our paths are all so different. God bless you today! I'm glad Ivey is happy these days and the calendar is looking sparse in regard to appointments. :0)
oh gwen - stop - i am bawling! what a heartwrenching and warming post at the same time! you're an just amazing, enduring woman.
and i can hear music! woohoo!
Gwen,
We are all thankful that you did not delete Ivey's blog. You have heard many of us say this is the first thing we check every morning. God had a plan for Ivey but he too had a plan for you and Matt. I am sure that you see how many lives and families you have touched through this blog. The faith that you and Matt have shown has been a testimony of itself.
We both know that Ivey has opened a couple of doors for our family and I am thankful for that.
Many who read Ivey's blog know that we lost Haley. But do they realize what an impact you had on this family during this time? You found ways to comfort Robert and the girls during this time. To be around you and to watch you work your on little miracles was amazing.
I can think of nothing else to say but "BEAUTIFUL!" This post, Ivey, you, your strength and acceptance, Ivey's tremendous story, and God's peculiar plans for our lives.
Gwen, I understand the sentiment you told your mom--my mom often says it hurts her to see me hurt, since I'm her daughter, and I know she's sincere. But you're right--my mom also has two healthy daughters, and though she may grieve for us, she can't walk in our shoes, and she'll never understand what I feel.
You do, though. And I am so thankful for your friendship. Thank you for posting this; those who will never understand fully need to know how those of us who do feel.
It's a funny thing, grieving for and rejoicing in, all at the same time. You and I have said it before--Addie and Ivey are amazing girls. God has big plans for them both :)
I got here via Lots of Scotts. What a beautiful post! My best friend, too,had a little girl with Downs Syndrome and had no idea during her entire pregnancy that there was anything abnormal until Caroline was born. But, as you know, the love that she brings is unmeasurable! Thanks for sharing this!
HI, I have been blessed by reading your heart. Jen had posted your blog as a link in regards to faithfulness and I agree, you as Ivey's mommy are a picture of faithfulness towards your Heavenly Father. I have enjoyed reading of your precious daughter and smiled when I saw the day she was born, for it is my birthday also. :) AND my name is Elizabeth, kinda fun. :)
I loved your honesty and heartfelt acceptance of all God has brought you through. I loved when you wrote of how you are on a journey with your sweet Ivey, for I myself am likewise on a journey raising my son Ezra. I have used that exact word to express our life with our little miracle.
Thank you again for writing what you did. I have been blessed by you and your openess...
God bless you,
A fellow mommy to an angel :)
Liz
What a beautiful post. THank you for sharing this awesome testimony!
(Thanks for visiting my blog btw)
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