Lord, How Do I Protect Him?

   The drive home was a snowball of emotions. “I’m carrying the little king I’ve always wanted.” Then switched to, “Oh Lord, these fibroids are of significant size, what if he doesn’t have enough room to grow to his full size?” “Will they starve him of precious rich blood supply?” “How could this be his entrance into the world? I can’t help him in there!” “ Lord, how do I protect him?!!”

   As I pulled into the parking spot and unloaded the bag of linen and paperwork into the cart, I couldn’t believe how powerless and even helpless I was feeling. There was an avalanche of emotions erupting as I reached the door to knock. I thought I would at least get one foot in the threshold of the door before I completely had a meltdown, but the flood of tears poured down my face, which was the most pitiful ugly cry face I had ever experienced. Unfortunately, my mother had to see that crushing, piercing sad storm wash over my face, as she opened the door. “Oh honey, what’s wrong?” she asked. I couldn’t even get the cart up the porch and into the house, I was so distraught.

   After allowing my helplessness to be processed and sobbing into the couch then her shoulders, I tried to give her a few details. “I can’t help him! He has Down Syndrome and I’ve got 6 fibroids in there crowding him,” is all I could get out as I handed her the diagnosis paperwork. She frowned as she said, so frankly, “Oh no, we are emptying out the negative. We’re not accepting that. God knows how you have waited to be a mother. This baby will be alright. We are emptying out the negative.” As she said those words, I felt a warm reassurance that her rebuke had reached heaven’s gates. I could finally breathe.