The bottom drops out...
My darling boy, my sweet kid,
Well, my little Nicky, we got the news today that we feared the most. According to the amniotic fluid test we had done, you have Down syndrome. I still can't believe it. I feel like I've been kicked in the head by a giant mule. I was really expecting the test to come back negative. I have to tell you that I'm a little bit in denial; I'm clinging to the hope that the test was wrong somehow (in three percent of the cases they are), or that God will intervene sometime between now and the time of your birth (I've experienced a genuine miracle before). Your mom has been a tower of strength, and the outpouring of support has been remarkable. I vacillate between hope, anger, sadness, and numbness/depression. I also like to throw a bit of bargaining into the mix, y'know, just to keep things interesting. One thing that hasn't vacillated ever is how much I love you and look forward to meeting you. I just wish I could bear this burden for you and your mom. You see, I was thoughtfully introduced to pain and sorrow at a nice early age, whereas your mom and her family have never really know a moment's pain. I'm exaggerating, of course, but I think you know what I mean. In many ways, I feel I can endure the weight of these trying circumstances better than your mom. But she is amazing. Don't attach too much import to these recent and soon to come posts, my boy; I'm a little mad with grief. We're all going to have to come to term with this unexpected bit of news over the coming days and weeks, and we're all going to do it in different ways and paces. At times I guess it won't be easy, but I believe our love makes us strong. We're a real little family now and we have to stick together.
Love,
Dad
Well, my little Nicky, we got the news today that we feared the most. According to the amniotic fluid test we had done, you have Down syndrome. I still can't believe it. I feel like I've been kicked in the head by a giant mule. I was really expecting the test to come back negative. I have to tell you that I'm a little bit in denial; I'm clinging to the hope that the test was wrong somehow (in three percent of the cases they are), or that God will intervene sometime between now and the time of your birth (I've experienced a genuine miracle before). Your mom has been a tower of strength, and the outpouring of support has been remarkable. I vacillate between hope, anger, sadness, and numbness/depression. I also like to throw a bit of bargaining into the mix, y'know, just to keep things interesting. One thing that hasn't vacillated ever is how much I love you and look forward to meeting you. I just wish I could bear this burden for you and your mom. You see, I was thoughtfully introduced to pain and sorrow at a nice early age, whereas your mom and her family have never really know a moment's pain. I'm exaggerating, of course, but I think you know what I mean. In many ways, I feel I can endure the weight of these trying circumstances better than your mom. But she is amazing. Don't attach too much import to these recent and soon to come posts, my boy; I'm a little mad with grief. We're all going to have to come to term with this unexpected bit of news over the coming days and weeks, and we're all going to do it in different ways and paces. At times I guess it won't be easy, but I believe our love makes us strong. We're a real little family now and we have to stick together.
Love,
Dad
posted by The Walkin Dude at 7:32 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home