Finding my voice

 

 

Safety in Silence

 

 

There is a certain sense of safety in the dark of a hospital room with your newborn daughter all swaddled tight in the crook of your arm.

 

Especially when that daughter was born with a wink and a gleam in her eye.

 

A daughter bright with beauty and gleefully mischievous even in those first living hours.

 

The bond between you unbreakable but also choking you with fear and questions.

 

In those early hours, early days, I seemed to have lost my voice.

 

I really only spoke to my best friend and I remember choking out

 

"It doesn't matter, It doesn't matter" to Tara.

 

I know Jerry and I spoke and that I spoke to the nurses about how I was doing but that is all really fuzzy.

 

I never really questioned anyone in the hospital except in those first few minutes to the recovery nurse.

 

 

"Is she okay, why does she have all that extra skin on the back of her neck?"

 

 

I remember that question and repeating it clear as a bell and hearing

 

"She's fine, she's beautiful".

 

In those early minutes, hours, and days there was a certain peace that had washed over me.  There was safety in the silence.

 

My most vivid memory of that silent stay was in the middle of the first nite nursing my girl and searching, reaching, mind reeling, knowing.

 

Knowing Down syndrome personally. 

 

I prayed that night and I don't remember what exactly but I know I prayed.

 

I got very anxious and nervous and fearful and started to sweat.

 

My mind racing my heart pumping I came to my Red sea place.

 

And in that silence I heard.

 

Go on.

 

Be not Afraid.

 

Many say happiness is a choice and to that I say then so is fear.

 

Fear is a choice.

 

And in that Silence I chose not to fear.

 

To go on.

 

For the rest of the silent stay, I just listened.  I just was.

 

 

Looking back at the silence of the hospital staff and the pediatricians.  I wonder how did that happen.  How did more than a dozen members of the medical profession not see it or choose not to say a word.  They handled my girl, they came into our private moment of the birth of our child and they were silent.

 

I've been angry about this, I have been confused and hurt, and felt that it needed fixing.

 

But lately, I've begun to wonder if God was keeping me Safe in the Silence.

 

Giving me time to find my voice and spread my wings.

 

Getting me ready to fly.

 

No I don't mean fly as in an angel.  I mean fly like a butterfly.

 

To emerge from the cocoon of uncertainty and doubt.

 

To let people in to see the beauty where many say there is none.

 

To use my voice for good and to silence that voice when it is meant for me to listen.

 

 

Through this blog I will also use my voice and hopefully be able to listen to yours.