Calvin's Story
Doug wrote this for the Dad's Corner section of the KC Down Syndrome Guild newsletter. It was published in May and gives his raw account of the moments after Calvin was born. It astounds us still, to look at Calvin and see how God worked through what seemed to be a tragedy, to capture our hearts for Him.
Here is Doug's story-touching, redemptive, and beautiful.
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4th of July, 2004. The sky flickered with explosions as we drove south across the Heart of America bridge toward downtown Kansas City. Susan’s labor wouldn’t wait for me to launch the mortars I bought for our neighborhood celebration – it was time for our son to join our perfect little family of Susan, Macy, and me.
Cars lined the sides of the highway, and people were packed into every possible space around a riverfront park we could see from the bridge. "Go easy over the bumps!" Sue reminded me, as three different fireworks displays illuminated the sky around us. Susan wasn't enjoying the experience in the same way I was. Her contractions were strong and frequent now, a far cry from what she earlier dismissed as an upset stomach from something she ate at a neighborhood party. After all, it was two weeks too early for our son to be born -- our daughter was a week late! We hadn't even decided on his name, and here we were on the way to St. Lukes for him to enter the world. What a different experience it was from the freezing midnight drive in the middle of January when his older sister was born two years before! We were totally unaware of how much our world would change that night.
We joked between contractions as we got Sue a wheelchair and began our journey to labor & delivery. All went as expected, and at midnight, Sue waited an extra minute before the final push to give our son a birthday he doesn't have to share with our nation. An 8 pound 11 oz. baby boy was born at 12:01, I cut the cord, and they placed him on Susan’s chest, just as they had with our daughter. But moments later, a nurse checked his floppy arms, and gently, but quickly took his weak, bluish body to a warming cart and hit a call button for help. Nurses filled the room, and began suctioning and giving him oxygen.
“What’s wrong?” I pleaded with increasing intensity as he struggled to breath. "Will he be OK?" The lack of response suggested to me that something was wrong they weren't ready to share, when finally one of the nurses turned long enough to tell me that our baby needed some help to breath right now. As things settled down a bit, another nurse walked over to me to fill me in. "He is doing a little better," she said, and then dropped a bombshell. “There are strong indications that your son has Down syndrome.” Disbelief, shock, and fear overtook me. This couldn't be happening. They must be wrong. I didn’t know much about Down syndrome, but I knew that it meant "mental retardation." Grief filled my heart as I started to cry and shout “No, No, No!” while holding Sue’s hand in the delivery bed. For an instant, my concerns of whether he would survive shift to quietly wondering whether it would be better if he didn’t. It was one of the darkest moments of my life, and one that I hate to admit. Thankfully, God pulled me to my senses quickly – he is my son, and I needed to make sure he would be OK. They took him to the NICU, where he dwarfed the other residents, and gave him a feeding tube and minor breathing assistance. He will be fine. Sue and I shared a surreal night of sleeping and crying, not knowing what we didn't know. Would we be able to go on family vacations? Would he be able to love us? Would he ever be able to live on his own?
The next day, we named him Calvin Douglas after Susan’s grandfather and me, and began our journey into a community that to this point existed relatively invisible to our lives. We were given information about Down syndrome provided to the hospital by the KC DSG, and after one phone call, were visited by two wonderful people who helped remind us that this was a time of celebration. They also reminded us that college and living on his own were a long way off, and that we might want to focus on who he is right now. What great advice! We were surrounded by our family and our church family, who brought gifts, love, and food for weeks, and who loved Calvin instantly. I'll never forget my father's words on the phone, "it will be OK, he will be fine." Boy was dad ever right about that.
Calvin turned five and a half on my birthday this year, and I can easily look back at his birth without feeling the intense sadness I felt those first few nights over not having the "perfect family" we thought we would have. It has become quite clear over the years that Calvin is the perfect son for us. He unifies our family, helps us look outside of ourselves, and has introduced us to some of the most wonderful people you could ever meet (and if you've ever met him, he's probably introduced you to his sisters, his mother, and me!). He sings country songs at the top of his lungs, bugs his sisters like any good brother (when they don't have him in a dress), and loves a good wrestling match. He's a good-natured kid with all the fun and challenge that comes along with a 5-year old. And I have to admit I get a little prideful when he volunteers to pray at dinner gatherings with friends, and certainly when one of his teachers told Sue that he is the most polite kid she's ever been around. Can you really ask for anything more?
We celebrate the 4th of July with extra meaning now, and with only one regret - that we had no way of knowing on that night what an amazing gift Calvin would be to our lives and the lives of those around us. I guess some of the greater things in life come unexpectedly, and must be experienced to be appreciated. Go love someone with Down syndrome!
posted by DSMCA @ 10:12 PM
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