Initiation

In the arms of a stranger I became one of "the lucky few".

She rarely cried. At night I lay her in the bassinet and she’d sleep contentedly til morning. After two and a half weeks in the NICU she could eat a bottle easily. She loved snuggles. If she ever fussed I lay on my side propping her in a sort of standing position in my hips. She’d quiet immediately, her head resting on her arms like a photographer had posed her that way. She was in every sense an angel baby. Which is why it surprised me so much the intense relief I felt wrapped in a strangers arms.

Our first outing was to the grocery store. I hate the grocery store. I hate the way it’s sterile floors squeak under my feet. Reminds me of hospitals. I hate the smells of the ethnic food isles and wet misted fruits and vegetables. I hate the red died meats rotting in open freezers. I hate the organized isles and the price tags labeling each item. I hate wasting my time there. It’s always an in and out job for me. Out of necessity I brought my girls there. Our first time leaving the house with Edna. Out of the car I wrapped Edna in a jersey cloth six times my height. Placing her on my belly wrapping and folding the fabric intricately around my middle and shoulders. She was safe there, warm and sleeping. My older two stretching their legs beside me as we entered the idiot grocery store.

Out of practice we moved back and forth through the store. Forgetting one thing, returning for another. Someone mentioned ice cream so we headed down the freezer isle for the third time. So many strangers had commented on my sweet baby I ignored the family ahead of me. It was her who spoke first as we both reached for adjacent freezer doors. “What a sweet baby.” She said. “And gorgeous red hair.” As she looked at my girls. I glanced up and smiled. “Thank you.” I almost turned away, but took a second glance behind her. Three men. Two were shorter thicker and moved slowly. She began walking away. Frantically I chased her my arms flying into the air. Pointing like a crazy person at Edna I tried to speak, “She - my - baby - she - has - down - syndrome!” I croaked.

In two strides she was back. Her arms enveloped me. My face landed in her shoulder. Her lips close to my ear whispered,

“Welcome. Welcome to the most beautiful life.”

I wept.

Broken. That’s what I’d been. For nearly a year, from the moment I knew I was pregnant I’d been broken. The world I thought I would move through, live in, be in had shattered. Just as I was starting to put it back together her diagnosis of Down syndrome had obliterated it. Leaving only fear and grief. I thought I’d lose my marriage. I thought I’d lose my family. I thought I’d lose her. I knew I would lose myself.

Here in the arms of a stranger in an ordinary grocery aisle, I was gifted the possibility that our life could and would still be beautiful. The tightness in my chest and shoulders I hadn’t named or acknowledge dissipated. Exhausted, calm and at peace I ended our embrace. A new member of a lucky few.