In 1979 we fell in love with our baby the instant we knew I was pregnant.

The moment she was born I noticed: she didn’t cry, the nurses moved in an odd, quiet, high speed while taking care of us, and I remembered I had heard a loud crack when the doctor used forceps. After letting us hold her they took Vanessa away for ‘routine tests’. We were filled with joy and oblivious to their concerns. Cliff left to go home to get some sleep. 

A few hours later the doctor came into my room, the nurse wore a creepy smile while she came to the bed trying to hold my hand…I pulled it away…The doctor said they had completed an x-ray because he wanted to be sure the forceps hadn’t caused brain damage…the xray looked good, and the crack I heard was her broken collar bone but it would heal quickly on its own, “The only thing is….”

As he spoke, it seemed like the two of them were conspiring to snatch my first baby out of my arms and replace her with a new baby who he said was ‘handicapped’ and had a ‘disability called Down syndrome’. 

Well, no, I assured myself, I know she’s the same baby…but all the news was making me doubt my perceptions. 

“You and your husband will need to decide if you’re going to bring the baby home.” 

I truly didn’t understand. 

“What??” 

“Well, most parents put the child in a nearby facility for their care.”

“No way in hell!! We’re taking Vanessa home and don’t ask me that again!!” 

I zoomed through the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression (I needed a hug from my husband NOW!), and permanently settled into acceptance.

I called Cliff, he sped back to the hospital, popped into the room in what seemed like 2 minutes clutching a tissue box. He was sobbing softly and gave me the big hug I needed. 

After soaking up his love I was able to comfort him back: “Everything’s gonna be alright, we can do this, she’s ours and we love her.”

“Yeah”……he relaxed in my arms.

Later that evening my dad suggested I call one of his co-workers who had a son with Down syndrome. 

The mom answered the phone, listened to me, and then said her husband was back home recovering from a heart attack and her son was in the kitchen with him right now making his dad soup for dinner. “We all help each other in this family.” She was practically cooing over how much she appreciated, loved and enjoyed her son and repeated twice that their son was a ‘delight’. 

The brief conversation made a positive impression, yet I was skeptical about the ‘delight’ part. 

Was she minimizing his needs? Was she embellishing her happiness? Was she just being loyal to her son?

Was my love for Vanessa true or was I under a magical spell of a newborn’s trusting gaze into my eyes? Will we ever want to ‘bring her to a facility’?  How ‘disabled’ or ‘handicapped’ is she? How will her challenges challenge us? 

What did that mom really mean when she described her son who was ‘disabled’ as: “a delight”? 

I quickly learned the Doctor’s description was incomplete. 

“Handicapped, disabled, special needs, Down syndrome” are just label words NOT the Total Truth. They describe challenges, limitations, or an extra chromosome…they imply dire outcomes. 

They don’t accurately describe a person’s humanness, and in Vanessa’s case; her authenticity, generosity, kindness, unique artistic ability, intuition, thoughtfulness or enthusiasm.

The Doctor’s words omitted what’s POSSIBLE: Vanessa loves and is happily enjoying a fulfilling life as a complex human spirit. 

Vanessa IS a DELIGHT. Forty-four years later, it’s heartwarming for me to see on social media, hundreds of families sharing their delight-filled experiences with their loved ones.