Within these walls

Life can be devestating sometimes.  It can go from mountain high to valley low before you can blink an eye.  Right now, I'm feeling valley low.  As in, shadow of the valley of death low.  I'm having a baby with Trisomy 18.  Me.  Me?  Me.  I am.  It's a reality. 

I found out Thursday.  It came as quite a shock.  I had pretty much convinced myself that my first trimester nuchal translusency test was a fluke and that my blood results would come back totally normal.  So when Dr. Nawab called me on Thursday I was floored.  What he was telling me was valley low.  Trisomy 18.  A rare genetic mutation of the 18th chromosome.  When babies are conceived they are given 23 chromosomes from each parent.  And occassionally, 1 in 3000 to be exact, a third copy of the 18th chromosome.  It causes severe mental retardation and physical malformations of the hands and face.  He told me that I would most likely miscarry between 18 and 20 weeks.  The only way to be 100% sure of the diagnosis was to have an amniocentesis done.  The jury is still out on that one.  I haven't decided yet.  I read that most Tri 18 babies miscarry, and of those that make it full term 50% are still born.  The rest don't usually make it to their first birthday.  Those rare babies that live, they can never live alone.  I believe the exact words of my doctor were "Trisomy 18 is not compatible with life." 

I am faced with having to bury a baby.  How will I survive the death of my child?  My heart is overwhelmed with sorrow.  I found this verse in the book of Psalms - "Be merciful on me, Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief." Psalm 31:9  Even in the hardest days after my divorce I didn't feel this tortured.  I long for comfort, for peace, but there isn't any to be found.  I am standing at a crossroads in my relationship with the Lord; struggling not to be angry and feel betrayed by Him, and on the other hand, struggling to praise Him when times are hard.  My mind knows that God is faithful, my heart aches too badly to want to listen. 

When I had Isabel, it was hard.  I was young and unmarried and everyone was disappointed in me.  I promised myself that when I had another baby I would do it the right way.  I would would marry someone wonderful (and I did), and then have more children.  I told myself it would be exciting, everyone would be happy, and no one would be disappointed.  Now, there's enough disppointment and heartache to go around for everyone.  I feel robbed, cheated, betrayed.  My life's dreams snatched away, stolen, shredded.  I look at Mark and think about how much he doesn't deserve this.  He is so good, so kind, the type of husband every woman deserves.  I look at his face and know that he is being strong for me even though I know he is weary himself.  Life is so unfair. 

I know it might sound selfish, but I don't want to raise a baby that can never fully enjoy life, never live on it's own, never know who I am.  I guess I am more afraid that I will carry this baby to full term and it will live and our lives will be changed forever.  We think we're tight on money now?  Wait until we have a baby that needs physical therapy, medication and lifelong, round-the-clock care.  Isabel will become the kid in the house that has to fend for herself.  How will I be able to devote attention to her and this newborn with so many needs?  It's funny, when they told me I could be having a baby with Down's Syndrome I was devestated, but when they changed the diagnosis to Trisomy 18, I found myself wishing for the Down's kid. I want to laugh at the Sarah Palin's of the world who make it look like having special needs kid is the most noble thing in the world.  Of course it's easy when you make $50,000 every time you open your mouth for a speech and have round the clock nannies to help you.  I'll have to quit my job.  We'll have to live on one income.   Selfish or not, jumping the gun or not, this is how I feel right now.

It's one thing to teach kids church and tell the kids things like "trust in the Lord, for He is good" and another thing to have to live it out by example. I dont' want to walk this road.  I don't want anyone to ever have to walk this road.  It's an experience I could stand to go without.  But here I am.  It's all I think about.  It consumes every thought of every minute of every day.  I sing to myself  "my heart trusts in You" - I sing it, but I'm not sure if I mean it yet.  I want to beone of those people who stand up in faith and say "My God is bigger than this"...why can't I?  Why can I teach it to the kids at church but fail to believe it for myself?  Why do I suck at being a Christian so badly?  Where is my faith when I need it the most?

Inside these four walls is a house of sorrow.