Jen went into labor the night/early morning of Monday, Sept 20th – 3 weeks early. It was all very quick and aggressive, beautiful and amazing. She woke me just before 2am with “pains”. Apparently she was up since 1am, but didn’t want to bug me in case it was a false alarm. I got a pen and paper and started writing down the intervals between contractions. I didn’t really need a pen and paper for this, as they were 10 minutes on the nose, well, not on the NOSE…oh, you know what I mean. When they didn’t subside, we called the hospital and called Jen’s mom to come over and keep an eye on our other little guy, Milo, as he slept.
3 weeks early was a huge surprise. So much so that Jen hadn’t even bothered to pack a suitcase. We also had new half assembled baby furniture strewn about in our kitchen. This night was full of surprises.
We arrived at Mount Carmel Hospital in Dublin at 3 am and by the time Jen was ready to push, it was too late for her to receive an epidural. Now that’s a woman! After a few hours and lots of faces and noises I didn’t know my wife was capable of, Jen cranked out a beautiful baby boy at 7:57am – Cass Edward Kane. After checking the usual stuff (10 fingers, 10 toes), hair color, etc, Jen discovered something a little “extra”. The midwife and the doctor didn’t pick it up as they were cleaning him off and weighing him. They wrapped his little body in a blanket and handed Jen her new baby boy. I went to get my camera and video camera and by the time I turned around, Jen noticed some features. She said to me “Chris – I think he has Down’s Syndrome”. That one sentence is forever stuck in my head as the moment our lives changed. I can still hear her voice. I wanted so much to go over to look into my new little man’s face and then look into my exhausted wife’s eyes and assure her there was nothing to be concerned about – tell her she was nuts and he was completely fine. The only problem was, I saw it too.
Cass Day 1
I went into the hall to track down our midwife. She came into the room to take a look. She inspected Cass’ face, but it didn’t take a long gaze for her to say “Hmmm, he might have it. Let me get Valerie.” Our obstetrician, Valerie, came in the room and took a look at Cass. “I think he has it, guys.” She called for a pediatrician to take a look. He did a few tests to check the typical newborn characteristics of a child with Down’s and Cass passed with flying colors. He had all the traits. The single line in the lines in his palm, the slight gap between his first and second toes, a floppy neck, protruding tongue, and slightly tilted almond-shaped eyes. Check, check, check, check, check.
The moment you realize your child has Down’s Syndrome is like going for a run underwater. Everything just slows down and feels very heavy. We just couldn’t even fathom what had just happened to us. Did they seriously just say the words Down’s Syndrome about OUR baby? There has to be some mistake. This kind of thing happens to OTHER people, not us. We don’t have any history of Down’s in either side of our family. What now?
We were celebrating the birth of a new child and all of a sudden we were presented with news that our life wasn’t going to be anything like what we had envisioned for the past 9 months. Down’s Syndrome was absolutely the last thing we expected. Well, maybe a Chinese baby would be the LAST thing we would have expected, but this came in at a close second. When the midwife, obstetrician and pediatrician confirmed that Cass had Down’s, I remember how strange it felt to have the happiest moment of my life immediately turn into “huh”?
It’s difficult to even think of the first week with any level of clarity. The week was a hazy blur of intense emotions, both positive and negative. We’ve tried to stop saying “Why us” and replace it with “Why not us?” We just have to get on with it and get into “parent” mode and celebrate each milestone.
Up until now, I haven’t known much about DS. Now we’re part of a community and we’re in a country that offers TONS of services and support for this. I haven’t really had an emotion of feeling sorry for myself. The thing that gets me is thinking that other people are worrying about us. It’s almost like when Pa Engels cries on Little House on the Prairie. I well up when I think of the kindness and goodness of family and friends and how much research and support everyone has been offering.
I keep asking the doctors if there is a scale of Down-ness, but they have told me it doesn’t really work like that. They’ve explained that it’s a syndrome that has many different characteristics, each with its own level of severity or mildness. So each kid is his own story. We’re looking forward to telling Cass’.