by guest blogger ~ Kathie Gautille

Recently, I have been savoring the memories and reliving special moments over my lifetime–I have also looked back on situations and experiences that seemed tragic—and at the time, I asked the big question–WHY? I never thought I would get over or overcome some of these tragedies. Through the years, I recognize I have some answers or at least answers that make sense to me. But there were pivotal moments in my life when I really didn’t understand why such sadness was happening. But I do have the eyes to see how having gone through the pain helped formed me into the person I am.

Do you find yourself wondering why?

I see so much irony in the hopes, dreams, and worries I lifted in prayer that has, in some ways, morphed into something completely different from the original intention… that’s what I want to share in this blog entry.

Witnessing our oldest daughter become a mother brought back so many memories of my days as a young mom. I remember holding Sara in the hospital, thinking…this is all I have ever wanted…to be a good wife and (hopefully) a good mother. And the Lord blessed me with both! With every passing day, as the stress of new motherhood eased, I found myself utterly and completely captivated with this baby girl. Joe and I always talked about wanting at least 3-4 children, and our plan was to have them close in age…similar to my family with my own siblings. That was our plan. Our plan…

But God had a different plan. And while God’s plan is a perfect plan, it is not without pain or heartache.

I don’t talk about Joey very often. Even after over three decades, my memory is always so crystal clear when I think of him. I even get the flutter and churn in my stomach, similar to what I experienced the afternoon Dr. Hunt could not find Joey’s heartbeat.

The emergency sonogram that followed was so upsetting. Having had several sonograms before, all were so joyful. This emergency sonogram had a devastating conclusion.

We lost our first son, Joey, when I was 28 years old. Sara was just turning one year old at the time of our loss. Joey was our second baby.  An emergency sonogram confirmed what my doctor called the beginning of a late pregnancy miscarriage. I called my miracle of life, was now the fragile flicker of life…a baby we planned for, prayed for, a baby we had dreams for, but a baby we lost.  

On some level, I believe God was holding my hand, preparing me. It all started the night before my OB appointment. I rarely asked Joe to come with me to an OB appointment, but the evening before my appointment, I felt nudged to invite him to come. He wasn’t excited about having to leave work early to accompany me, but he acquiesced to my request.

When we arrived at Dr. Hunt’s office, I checked in with Barbara, the head nurse. She said, “Mrs. Gautille, your appointment isn’t until tomorrow.” I think of the terror on my face and my whisper to her about Joe not wanting to come, but I did let her know I was desperate that they fit me in. I felt good and had no problems to report, but a busy husband was waiting in the waiting room with me. She fit me in!

At the time, I didn’t know that a lot of women miscarry–so while intellectually I became aware of this fact–I didn’t find it a comfort. I never really asked WHY we lost the baby, why it was taken away from us…I just believed that, for some reason, God must have needed another angel or saint in heaven. However, I was anxious to get the “go-ahead” to conceive again.

At my follow-up appointment weeks after my surgery, my doctor mentioned that he had pathology results back from the fetus we lost. (I hate the clinical term he used to describe our son). I didn’t recall that tissue from the baby was sent to a pathology lab for genetic testing. 

When he read the results to me, all I heard was this medical mumbo-jumbo…Puzzled, I looked at him, and he said our son was a “Trisomy 21” baby. I asked him what that meant. He stated, “Kathie, the baby you lost, had Down Syndrome.” 

He paused so I could take in and absorb the information he had just given me. Suddenly, I felt as if he had taken my head into his right hand and just slammed it into the back wall of his office. I got dizzy and nauseous and then started to cry. “How can this be… I’m young; I already have one healthy baby…does this mean we can’t have more children?”

While Joe and I went through the grieving process, we also went through extensive genetic counseling. It was there we were told we had a 99% chance that we would NOT have another baby with Down Syndrome. Because of our faith, I knew if we conceived and discovered we were going to have a baby with Down Syndrome, we would not terminate the pregnancy. I wanted to be sure—I mean truly understand what it would mean if Joe and I had a baby with Downs before we attempted to conceive again, so I did a lot of homework.

Intellectually, I learned of all the various anomalies that were associated with a baby with Down. What I didn’t know was how I would feel emotionally having a baby with special needs at birth. But please understand, I was being brutally honest…would we get looks of disappointment from others upon seeing our baby…or worse, would there be pity? Could I handle it? (Yes Pride getting the best of me). Would there be resources available? Personally, I went through a great deal of soul-searching. I wanted to believe if we were not up for the challenge or did not have the courage to face the emotional, and medical aspects of having a baby with special needs. So, after all of our research–we wanted to know first-hand how socially, emotionally, and spiritually we could handle this special blessing. 

So, I called the Down Syndrome Guild of Dallas and talked to mothers who have a child with Down. The moms were so generous in sharing their triumphs and challenges. Our conversations were frank, honest, heartwarming, and giving. Talking with these moms and then reading an interesting and timely essay on raising a child with Down Syndrome (God-incident) gave me a new perspective on parenting and praying for our children.

Emily Perl Kingsley wrote an insightful essay in 1987 entitled “Welcome to Holland.” Her article describes her experience raising a child with special needs. She equates it to planning a vacation to Italy.

While planning this fabulous vacation to Italy, you research points of interest, googling and using guidebooks, and possibly even learning some Italian. Finally, the day comes to go on your vacation. The plane takes off for this trip of a lifetime, and as the plane lands, the flight attendant says, “Welcome to Holland.” The flight plan has changed, and this is your final destination.” …wait…what…?

Ms. Kingsley goes on to say that while the flight plan changed–you weren’t taken to some awful third-world country, just a different destination! Her point at the end of the essay is if you don’t let go of the fact that the trip you dreamed of was to go to Italy and never made it to Italy, all of your mourning will never allow you to discover the true beauty and wonderment of Holland. 

She happened to write this essay the year we lost our Joey. The year, we contemplated whether our family would remain small. The year we prayed for God to give us the wisdom, courage, and tools necessary to raise a child with special needs if that was His will for us. The year we trusted in God’s perfect plan and conceived another baby. 

Fast forward a year later, when we lost our first son, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy son. Nineteen months later, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy, and precious daughter. 

From my experience of losing a baby 36 years ago, I have found I don’t take new life for granted. I know that I am more compassionate toward mothers AND fathers who experience a loss. I also ALWAYS stop and lift a prayer of encouragement and support for the moms and dads, sisters and brothers who have a child or sibling with special needs.

Oh, and remember I mentioned all of the prayers that I stormed heaven with requesting wisdom and courage to handle a child or children of special needs we might have been blessed with — I believe Our good Lord gave me a very different opportunity as a mother and answered those prayers in a very different way, for a very different challenge. At one time or another, each of my children had their own special needs, which brought us to our knees. And once again, God brought all of us through it together.

I want to leave you with a prayer I prayed for my children. I hope you find it helpful!

A Parent’s Prayer

Most loving Father, the example of parenthood, you have entrusted our children to us to bring them up for you and prepare them for everlasting life.

Assist us with your grace that we may fulfill this sacred duty with competence and love. Teach us what to give and what to withhold.

Show us when to reprove, when to praise, and when to be silent.

Make us gentle and considerate yet firm and watchful.

Keep us from the weakness of indulgence and the excess of severity.

Give us the courage to be disliked sometimes by our children when we must do the necessary things which are displeasing in their eyes.

Give us the imagination to enter their world in order to understand and guide them.

Grant us all the virtues we need to lead them by word and example in the ways of wisdom and piety.

One day, with them, may we enter into the joys of our true and lasting home with you in heaven.

Amen

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you”

Jeremiah 1:5