Per Merriam-Webster’s third definition of “monument” we find: “a lasting evidence, reminder, or example of someone or something notable or great”
And this week I found exactly that evidence, those words that stayed with me. Today I am 35 weeks, 1 day pregnant with my third child. At that exact same stage with the Quail in-utero, we received the first hint of the magic hiding deep inside her and of a transformation of our lives to come.
At the time, it did not feel like the revealing of a magical surprise. It felt scary. I had not had any inkling that anything might be amiss and so I had gone to the appointment alone. I remember sitting in my car afterwards and calling Lovey and my mom in tears. I came home and slowly started letting people know what our latest pregnancy update suggested.
There were words from a friend that stuck in my mind and heart of all the responses I received to our news. Unknowingly kind words. These words are my monument. Most people do not know how to respond to the news of a potential flaw in your pregnancy, your child, your heart. Inevitably, but without malice, people end up saying things that are hurtful. Words can sting when people don’t know what to say and haven’t had cause to think of their impact before. As a parent to a child with special needs you eventually get to a place where you stop judging people’s words and look at the intent behind them. If they did not mean them unkindly, you do not take them unkindly. Really, what’s the point? Why hold on to things people didn’t mean to harm you with? They would have done better if they could.
For the last 3 years, I have gone back periodically to my email and tried to locate this response from my friend whose kind words stuck in my mind and heart. The words that were intended to show confidence in us as parents and beauty in every child. I have not been able to find it until this past week. Finding that letter again is a real gift. I guess parts of the process of a new life-long diagnosis never really go away. You do move on. You see past it eventually. You see your actual child first again; as you envisioned before the diagnosis tried to take that vision away.
I am glad what I am left with three years later as that little girl starts public preschool is the kindness of those around me. A monumental kindness…a lasting evidence that everything is all right.
Thank you dear friend for saying these words that helped us to see through our tears and into the heart of our home.
“Just let me know when you need me to be a driver, a cook, a babysitter, grocery shopper….whatever you need. I hope that everything goes as smooth as silk for you and your baby girl. Whoever your daughter is, she is coming into a very nurturing and loving family. She and Zuzu have good taste in parents.”
Those words meant the world to me when she sent them. When I found and read them again this week Sugarplum gave a little thump. You see today I go in again for an ultrasound and ironically, today Sugarplum is 35 weeks 1 day. The difference that today holds from our today of three years ago is I go in stronger, wiser, armed with Lovey by my side and hope born out of our familial history to show me that things will be ok no matter what they try to tell us. That our future, no matter how uncertain will be filled with happy little ordinary afters, whoever our newest little daughter is…
Corner view is a weekly Wednesday date hosted originally hosted by Jane, currently by Francesca. A topic is given and you can see impressions; be it in photographic or poetic in form from around the world: Jane, Dana, Bonny, Joyce, Ian, Francesca, Theresa, Cate, Kasia, Otli, Trinsch, Isabelle, Janis, Kari, jgy, Lise, Dorte, McGillicutty, Sunnymama, Ibb, Kelleyn, Ninja, Sky, RosaMaria, Juniper, Valerie, Sammi, Cole, Don, WanderChow, FlowTops, Tania, Tzivia, Kristin, Laura, Guusje, Susanna, Juana, Elsa, Nadine