Chapter 2

Monday came with trepidation. My mom was so anxious about this unfamiliar procedure. But in the back of her mind was that prayer that the baby had turned on its own. My mom lay on the hospital bed. The doctor entered and began to feel her stomach. As he felt around he said, “What a good baby!” My mom’s notion was correct. This angel baby had turned! Fears were put to rest and an overwhelming sense of relief took their place. She went home that Monday morning without the procedure and with a new conviction that all is well. Later on that evening, though, my mom went into labor.

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It was time for the baby to be born. The on-call doctor, a short, Italian man named Dr. Lancelotti, went on to encourage my mom to push with everything she had. Trying to be “Mister Caring Doctor”, Dr. Lancelotti kept talking to my mom to ease the tension, if that’s even possible. “What will you name it if it’s a boy or a girl?” He asked. My mom answered in a aggravated tone, “Can’t you see I’m trying to breath, here. Hee-hee-hee-whoo, hee-hee-hee-whooo.” The questions stopped, but a common tune rang from the doctor’s mouth. A song that marks the day of birth as a joyous, celebrated day. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…” Dr. Lancelotti continued to sing as my mom gave that final push. At that celestial moment, one of the sweetest, most choice spirits entered the room and not even a second later, the singing, coming from Dr. Lancelotti’s mouth, stopped. My little brother was whisked away to the nursery and Dr. Lancelotti could not get out of that hospital room quick enough. An uneasy, unsettled feeling quickly spread through my mom’s body from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. It felt like her heart was in her stomach. Even though there was so much hustle and bustle going on around her, her mind was in a different place. She was with Zach. It was raining that day.

Hours went by and my mom had not seen her son yet. After giving birth there were some complications where the nurses could not get the bleeding to stop. My mom kept passing out and all she could think about was her perfect little man in the other room. Eventually, the bleeding stopped and nurses told her that she really needed to rest and that she would see her son soon enough. The next morning breakfast came along with a nurse to ask my mom a couple questions. “I’ve noticed that your arms have scars and marks on them. You’re not an IV drug user are you, Olivia?” The nurse had a look of cold, repugnance across her face. “No, I’m not, but when I’m nervous or stressed I have a habit of picking at my arms. That’s where those marks come from. These last couple days have been pretty stressful.” The nurse looked on and left the room with an animal like groan in response to my mom’s statement. “What was that all about?!” my mom thought. She was mystified by the conversation and couldn’t help thinking what brought it on.

Not long after the nurse left the room Dr. Tedford, our family doctor, entered. “Okay I just had to make sure it was you. Olivia, I will be right back. I need to set some nurses straight. I’ll be right back.” A couple minutes went by when Dr. Tedford returned. He sat at the foot of my mom’s hospital bed and began small talk with her. But, something inside my mom knew that he wasn’t just there to check on her. “Olivia, Zach is doing well. His breathing is a bit sloppy but that should correct itself in just a few days. But, we believe he has Trisomy 21.” “That’s Down Syndrome, right?” She asked. He continued to explain exactly what it meant. It means that Zach was born with all or part of an extra chromosome. Anyone born with that extra chromosome is left with some impairment of cognitive and physical abilities. Also, there are certain facial characteristics associated with Down Syndrome. Dr. Tedford left after talking to my mom for some time, trying to give her the basic knowledge of what condition had affected her son. She sat there, alone in her room, feeling overwhelmed and afraid. Being the proactive woman that she is, the thought that stood out in her mind was that she needed to get educated. She says today, “Looking back, I had no idea what this would require of me and of my family and I am so grateful. But, I knew that the Lord had my back and that, without a doubt, I was not alone in this.”

My dad came with the whole family, so excited to see our new little brother. Cody was seven, A.J. was five and I was almost three. Nurses hadn’t brought Zach in yet so my mom took that moment to have a talk with my dad. We sat outside the hospital room while my mom and dad, with their unwavering strength, discussed Zach’s disability. My dad was surprised by the news but was, and always has been, so strong and faithful. Through the years to come, the strength and faith of our family would be tested. A family bond is strong and divine and through the gospel of Jesus Christ our family would climb and overcome trials that, at the time, seemed impossible and insurmountable.