This morning as we sat in our pew at church I watched a woman walk in with the most adorable baby. I could tell right away, this baby was something special. I suspected he had Down Syndrome but I couldn't be sure. When I got a better glimpse of him I knew for sure...I also knew I had to hold that baby.
Sacrament meeting ended and I went to Relief Society to help set up and get ready for that meeting (I am in the Relief Society Presidency right now). While I was setting up a little feeling told me that Lorien was hiding in the bathroom and I needed to go get her out. I walked into the bathroom and there was my friend, Beth, holding this perfect baby. I stopped dead in my tracks and said "I'm going to need to hold that baby, like right now." Beth obliged and handed this perfect little lump of love over to me. As soon as his little baby body touched mine my face crumpled and I burst into tears. I can't explain it. Yes, I can. He felt just like my brother, Oliver, as a baby. Just like him. In addition to that memory, I knew what this baby's family was in for. I knew how much pure love and joy was wrapped up in this sweet baby. I knew how their family would learn to love and grow because of this baby. I knew there would be sad, hard days but most days (like 99 %) would be the most joyful, fun, love-filled days imaginable. I just stood there and cried and cried. Poor Beth narrated the whole scene for the baby's mother (Beth's sister who was using the bathroom). I'm sure I made a fool of myself but I couldn't help it. I finally explained that I had come to the bathroom to find Lorien. I shouted "Lorien, are you in here!" Which she answered yes to. I told her to get out here and see this perfect baby. She couldn't understand why I was crying or so ga-ga over this baby. He seemed like a regular adorable baby to her! Turns out my little feeling was right about Lorien being in the bathroom but it was also trying to give me an opportunity to hold this baby!
After church, I had to track the baby down again and ask for a picture. Once I was composed I took the chance to tell sweet his Mom why I was crying earlier and how lucky I thought she was to get to be the mom to this sweet guy. I also asked for a picture so I could show my mom. I don't know how creepy that was...OK, I know it was super creepy. Still, she said yes and I got to hold that perfect baby one more time. It was heaven.
And now a word about my brother, Oliver.
I was seven (turning eight) years old when Oliver was born. I remember my mom being pregnant and I remember her going to the hospital. My next memory is of my Dad calling home to talk to each one of us. He told us the baby had been born, was a boy, but had some problems. Mom and the baby wouldn't be coming home for a while. I remember my Dad saying the baby had Down Syndrome. I'm embarrassed to say all this but it is what happened. The next words out of my mouth were, "You mean he is retarded?" My Dad reiterated that the new baby had Down Syndrome and wouldn't be able to come home for a while. Stunned, I handed the phone over to the next sibling. I walked through the house to the back stairs. I sat on the stairs and cried. I cried because I was ashamed. I was not a nice kid to the special needs kids at my school. In fact, I took a fair amount of delight in torturing one girl in my grade named Misty. I cried and cried, not because I felt bad for what I had done to Misty--but because I thought the other kids at school would find out I had a special needs brother and would think I was "special" too. I was full of dread and shame.
A day or two later, we all got to go to the hospital to meet Oliver. I had to put on a hospital gown over my clothes and wash my hands up to my elbows. I was taken into Oliver's hospital room. There in a metal crib as high up as my chest, I saw Oliver. His body was tiny and covered with tubes and wires. He had IVs in his limbs and a tube in his nose. He looked helpless and broken. I stood there stunned, in love, and newly ashamed. I couldn't believe I had ever thought anything unkind about this baby. My heart broke for the pain and difficulties his life had been so far and would be in the near future. Another feeling of shame swept over me, this time for the cruel way I had treated special needs kids at school. I determined then and there to always stick up for those kids and to be their friend. It is a moment I'll never forget.
Oliver had to spend the first full year of his life in the hospital. He had holes in his heart that required open-heart surgery to repair. His lungs couldn't breathe for him. He couldn't suck or swallow. He struggled. When Oliver came home our family life changed in a major way. It was such a blessing to have this person who was nothing but love in our home. He was silent and sweet. He loved to snuggle and cuddle. He smiled easily and charmed us all. Doctors gave him about four years to live. We loved on that kid every second of every day. He grew and grew. He is 30 now!
It is honestly difficult to fully explain what a blessing it is to have someone with Down Syndrome in your family. I am so thankful Oliver is my baby brother.
One more note on Oliver. In our family, everyone has a lovey (a special item for comfort and soothing). I still have my baby blankets from my baby days...and I still sleep with them every night. Now Oliver is one of us, through and through but because he has an extra chromosome he does things a little differently. The lovey is the perfect example. While the rest of us found a blanket or stuffed animal for soothing, Oliver found an old winter boot. That's right, his little Down Syndrome heart could only be comforted by rubbing the silky exterior lining of a boot! Wild, but true. I laugh every time I think of it. Oliver also had a couple of satin ribbons from the edge of blankets but his tried and true favorite was the boot. I wish I had a picture of it. One of his nurses misplaced it one year when Oliver was participating in Special Olympics. Now Oliver is a little older and a little more particular. He doesn't have a special lovey but he cares deeply about the type of fabric his clothes (down to his underwear) are made of. He also is particular about who touches his stuff. We sure love this guy and love the unique way he partakes of the world.
This is a picture of me and Oliver in the hospital. I don't think it was the first time we met but it was taken in the first few months of his life. This is very much the scene of our first meeting.
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