Lately I've read a lot of blogs about several different subjects, but the stories of Trisomy 13 and Trisomy 18 seem to grab my attention. I'm drawn to the small rays of hope that appears during the births and finding joy in the moment of sorrow.
I can't imagine the excitement leading up to the ultrasound that determines the gender . I can't imagine the heartbreak some feel after being told the devastating news. I'm not going to say I understand because I don't, how could I?
I can't imagine dreaming of a future for the life growing inside, just to be told he/she will most likely die soon after birth, if they don't die before. Each second and minute of the pregnancy becomes more precious. Each movement and kick treasured. Soon the parents dream of just getting to hold the baby one time before he/she leaves.
The steel resolve of the parents to Hope and give Thanks for each moment and breath their baby takes knowing it could be the last.
Hope is a beautiful thing.....
***My Grandmother Josephine lost 6 at birth or shortly after during the depression. All were born at home with a midwife. Esther Mae born September 23, 1923 lived 8 short hours cause of death listed as Asthma. A diagnosis given by a small country Dr in a small country town. One lived a few hours while the others were born still. My Dad knows a couple more of the names and dates but no records exists now. No photographs. Nobody is alive today who remembers these precious souls. My grandparent's children who are alive today were born later in life.***
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