When A Blessing Comes In Different Package
When A Blessing Comes In Different Package
(Today, we welcome Bridget to our team of bloggers. You can connect with her on her profile page: @brilea5029.)
I remember it like it was yesterday. I looked at the stick in amazement; it was positive. Who would think that a plus sign could mean so much? After 10 years of disappointments and fear that I would never bear another child, God blessed me with a planned pregnancy. I knew that this baby was meant to be. From that night forward I prayed for the little baby growing within me. I prayed that he would be healthy and happy. I prayed that he would be smart and everything that God wanted him to be. Some would say that God never heard those prayers or chose not to answer them yet I don’t.
The ten months were the longest months of my life. They were full of joy and fear and sickness. And when I say sickness I mean eight months of bed rest, morning sickness and let’s not forget the horrible rash that covered my entire body and itched like crazy. However, I knew that this was my last pregnancy and I wasdetermined to enjoy every horrible minute of it.
Finally it was time to have my beautiful baby. I had convinced my doctor that I was indeed in labor and had been for the last two weeks and she finally decided that she would help by inducing me. Yay! Um, no after 13 hours of hard labor (“Thank you Pitocin, Not!”), I was still only at three centimeters dilated. Lucky for me my doctor went off duty for two hours and a wonderful, smart, angel of a doctor looked over me. After one look she said, “Honey, your baby is too big to come out naturally. You need a C-Section!” And I happily replied “Thank you, Jesus! God prepared me for this. Let's go!” (Let me guess you are asking how God prepared me. Let me just say out of the 100’s of baby stories that I watched on TLC channel, 99% of them ended in a C-Section.)
Off to the surgical suite we went. I was not scared just happy that I would finally meet my miracle baby. Within three minutes I could hear him cry and the doctor was right he was huge. My baby was not a baby--he was a toddler weighing in at 10 pounds 2 ounces. He was beautiful!
When I was finally settled in my room I was able to really look him over. Ten fingers, ten toes, and he looked like his daddy he was perfect! What a blessing God gave me. I was so happy! This little person had his whole life ahead of him and God saw it fit that I raise him and help him on his journey. Nothing else in the world mattered because at that moment my life was perfect.
Later that night and for the months to come that perfect moment and all of my hopes and dreams would slowly be shattered or so I thought. The first thing that I noticed about my son is that he did a crazy thing with his eyes almost like he was having mini seizures; his eyes would roll to the back of his head. The nurses assured me that it was normal and that all babies did it. Yet it went on until he was 6 six months. I kept thinking this is not normal yet quickly dismissed it. Next I noticed that my son hated baths and really hated to have massages with lotion afterwards. Thankfully, I continued to do them.
In the first year of his life he went on to have chronic ear infections and get a diagnosis of sleep apnea but hit all of the milestones except babbling. My baby was one and I never heard a "mama" or "dada" or anything. Was he deaf? No, he passed each of hearing tests so he wasn't deaf. The doctors assured me that talking would come. Deep down I knew that there was something wrong but these were doctors they had to know what they were talking about, right?
I allowed the doctors to push down my fears for another five months and then I decided they didn't know my baby like I did. So I did something that no one wants to really do. I went out looking for trouble in the form of a diagnosis. We finally knew why my baby didn't talk. He was autistic and suffered from sensory issues causing him to be non-verbal. My heart was so heavy that it felt broken. I wallowed in self-pity and fear for a few days and then I decided for my son’s sake I could not afford to continue on that way. This was not a death sentence and my son was still my son. He was the same little boy that I prayed for, he was still the little boy that I would walk through fire for and that is exactly what I knew I would have to do. If I did stand up for my child, then who would? My son may not be the perfectly wrapped package I thought he should be but he was perfect in God’s eyes. My dreams for him were not shattered they just needed to be altered to fit him and his needs and that was okay.
Life with my son is challenging and from time to time I fear the world will be cruel. Yet, I fight on. My family struggles to survive living off one income so that we can provide the best environment that we can for my son and this crazy thing that we call Autism. But it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day he is everything that I prayed for he just came in a specially wrapped package.
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