Grieving What Isn't

There is a beautiful analogy that I found and read the first night we found out about Will's extra chromosome. It's about planning a trip to Italy and unexpectedly ending up in Holland. The message is that even though everyone else you know is still planning trips to and happily returning from Italy, you discover everything that is beautiful, albeit different, about Holland. Since I read it that night, several people have shared it with me as well.

So, I've read and been told that it's perfectly normal to grieve the child you thought you were having when you get a diagnosis such as Down syndrome, and although most of the time I have handled this news with (surprising?) ease, that was not the case the second morning. That morning, I woke up and immediately felt overcome by anger and sadness. Why were we being dealt another blow in our attempt for a baby? Why can't we just breeze through a typical pregnancy for once? (To be fair, Ella's was a typical pregnancy, but come on, only one out of eight?!) Why me? Why us? Why Will? Why do we keep hitting the incredibly low odds? I felt sad about what won't be and sad about challenges that we might face.

I cried hard that morning. First I cried with Troy before I could even get out of bed. Then I went to school and just walking by my assistant principal who said hi set me off again. I rushed into her office and opened up the waterworks. After a good cry there, I got myself together and went toward my room. I still made another stop to cry with a co-worker before my day with students began. That one pity-fest that began at 4:30 am and ended at 8:30 am has been the only time that I have found myself really grieving.

I'm not going to Italy, and that takes some getting used to, but Holland will be nice too.