Special Blessings

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  “But how do you know? Are you sure?” Therese's voice was quivering, and her husband went to her side, clasping the hand she stretched out.

  “No, I’m not certain. I can't be absolutely positive until we do the amniocentesis procedure.” Dr. Carpenter tapped a section of the view that the tech put up on the screen. “But there are a number of what we call soft markers that indicate an abnormality, and your baby appears to have several.”

  “What do we do?” Lewis looked as frightened as his wife.

  “I’d like your permission to perform an amniocentesis.”

  “Amniocentesis is the needle thing, isn't it?” Therese's face registered her fear. “Will it hurt?”

  “We do use a needle,” the doctor said. “But my staff and I will do everything we can to make it comfortable for you.”

  “But what do we do if the test shows the baby does have Down syndrome?” Lewis asked.

  “There's no need to do anything, other than educate yourselves about how to care for a Down's infant.” Dr. Carpenter's calm smile was one of the things Candace liked best about her. “The remainder of your pregnancy won't change much at all. We’ll take some extra precautions when the baby is born, and we’ll connect you with the appropriate specialists who can help you with parenting issues. And we’ll help you contact the National Down Syndrome Society for more information. In fact, we can do that as soon as we complete this test today.”

  Candace noticed the doctor didn't qualify her statement with if your baby has Down syndrome. Dr. Carpenter appeared certain, even before the amnio, that the diagnosis was going to be correct.

  “Today?” Therese's question was a squeak. “You’re going to do it today?”

  Dr. Carpenter nodded. “Yes. I have to set it up now, but I’ll be back in a little while.”

  The doctor left the room soon afterward, and there was silence in her wake. Candace's heart went out to the apprehensive couple; she thanked God for using her to calm their fears.

  “Can I answer more questions for you?” she asked the Nottingtons.

  Lewis shook his head slowly. “I have so many questions swirling around in my head, I don't even know where to start.”

  “Anywhere,” Candace suggested. “Pick one, and we’ll just keep going until I’ve answered them all. At least, all the ones I’m qualified to answer.”

  “I don't even know what Down syndrome is,” Lewis said. “I’ve seen them around…short, kind of different eyes, and they’re hard to understand, right?”

  “Down syndrome children often have weak muscle tone and their tongues protrude. The jaw and facial muscles can be strengthened, and early speech and language intervention helps a great deal with speaking more clearly and controlling tongue thrusting.” Candace thought of the other things she knew about Down syndrome babies. “If this test confirms the diagnosis, I would suggest you go home and check out the National Down Syndrome Society online. It's an excellent organization with a great many resources. I believe there's a help hotline, and they also can connect you with the closest parent support group in the area. Their Web site is quite extensive as well.”

  Therese took a deep, quivering breath. “So our baby will be able to learn and do most of the things a normal child can do?”

  “Many things, yes. Down syndrome children may take a little longer to learn, but they are capable of many things. You can expect to be deeply involved in this child's developmental progress, but he should be able to make decisions and speak for himself. Or herself,” she added with a smile.

  “So you don't think this is a terrible thing?” Lewis's eyes looked dazed.

  “Absolutely not,” Candace said. “There are many horrible birth defects and diagnoses in this world. Down syndrome is not one of them.”

  Therese took a deep breath and reached for her husband's hand. “We’ll be all right,” she said, “and so will our baby.” Candace could see that the woman already was pulling herself together and embracing the challenge.

  “There are some questions you may want to ask the doctor,” Candace said. “The most common birth complication for a Down syndrome baby is a heart defect. You probably will need to have a special ultrasound of the baby's heart to see if there's going to be a problem. But that may never come to pass, so we won't worry about that unless we need to, all right?”

  “Thank you so much,” Therese whispered. “I don't know what we would have done today without you, Candace.”

  “You’re welcome. You can call me anytime if you have questions or concerns, and I’ll try to get some answers for you. We’ll take this journey together.”

  Lewis had tears in his eyes. “You don't know how much it helps to know that.”

  “Are you going to stay for the next thing?” Therese apparently couldn't even bring herself to utter the word.

  Candace squeezed her shoulder gently. “Of course. We’re going to do this together.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  MOM?”

  Candace glanced up from the sink, where she’d been washing the dishes that couldn't go in the dishwasher. Brooke had been drying the items as she went, but now she was looking at her mother with an expression of intense anxiety.

  Her own heart rate doubled. Brooke used to wear that expression a lot, in the early days after Dean's death. It wasn't until about two years ago that the child really had begun to adjust and accept their loss. Candace realized she was holding her breath. “Yes, honey?”

  “What's going to happen to all our pictures of Daddy after you and Heath get married?” Brooke looked as if the fate of the world hinged on her mother's answer.

  Candace didn't know what she’d expected, but a question this easy hadn't been it. “I hadn't really thought about it. Why do you ask?” Maybe Brooke had an idea for something special that she’d like to do with the ones they hadn't used in the memory books they’d created.

  “Will you throw them away?” Apprehension made the young girl's voice quiver.

  “Throw them away? Certainly not.”

  “Oh.”

  “Honey, I would never throw away pictures of your father.” Candace placed her hands on Brooke's thin shoulders. “I loved him, and you loved him. He was a wonderful part of our lives, and I don't ever want to forget him. Do you?”

  “No.” Tears filled Brooke's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I just was afraid that maybe now that you have Heath, you didn't want to be reminded of Daddy anymore.”

  “Why would you—?” Suddenly, the source of Brooke's anxiety was crystal clear to Candace. Not long ago, she had taken the wedding photo of Dean and her from her bedroom and placed it on the mantel in the living room with some other family photos. Obviously, Brooke feared her mother was forgetting about her father.

  “Heath understands that we loved Daddy and that we still love his memory,” Candace assured her daughter. “And he wants us to keep some pictures of your daddy around the house so we don't forget him. And someday, when you have a home of your own, you may have some pictures of him to hang on your own walls, okay?”

  “Okay.” Brooke stepped forward and just rested her forehead against Candace's chest.

  Candace put her arms around her not-so-little girl, wishing as she had many, many times, that Brooke and Howie had never had to suffer such heartache in their young lives.

  Brooke's voice interrupted her heavy thoughts. “And maybe I could hang pictures of you and me and Howie and Grammy with Heath, now that he's part of our family. He loves us too, you know.”

  It was the first day of a new workweek. Anabelle met James, Candace, and Elena for lunch in the small hospital courtyard that had been the scene of their very first group gathering a little more than two years ago.

  After James offered a prayer, the four friends unpacked lunch bags or dug into the offerings from the cafeteria and caught up on each others’ lives. Candace related the story of Brooke's concern from the day before.

  “It's odd what children's minds can conjure up, isn't it?” Ele
na asked. “The other day Izzy wanted Sarah to tell her all about the day she was born. She thought maybe Sarah wasn't really her mother and someone else gave birth to her.”

  “My heavens.” The story surprised Anabelle, and she looked sad. “Now there's some imagination.”

  “She's still trying to make the pieces of her life fit together,” Elena said. “It's hard for a six-year-old to understand why her mother couldn't be there for her during those early years.”

  “That makes sense,” Anabelle conceded, thinking of Elena's bright and lively granddaughter. “That Busy-Izzy brain is always working, isn't it?”

  James looked wistful. “What I wouldn't give to have my boys be that age again. They were so much less troublesome.”

  “Uh-oh,” Elena said. “The Bell boys troublesome? Now that's hard to believe.”

  “Believe it,” James said. He pulled a photograph out of his breast pocket and handed it around. “Gideon went to his first prom.”

  The women craned their necks to see it. “I can't believe he's old enough for prom,” Candace said. “Your kids aren't that much older than Brooke.”

  “He's not really old enough.” James shook his head. “He's only a sophomore. But he's got this girlfriend.…” He sighed.

  “Oh no,” Elena said. “You can't stop there.”

  “His girlfriend is a junior. We met her for the first time before the prom that Saturday evening. Nice girl, and the parents seemed just as nice. But he's so young…and lately he's really been testing our rules and trying everything he thinks he can get away with. It gets frustrating at times.”

  “Our girls weren't so bad, but Evan was like that,” Anabelle said. She thought of the years when she’d worried about where Evan was and who he was with. Frustrating was definitely an appropriate word. “If we said no, and he wanted to do something, he would do everything in his power to squirm around our decision. And if he couldn’t, sometimes he just flat-out disobeyed.” She rolled her eyes. “That's one stage I don't miss.”

  “I can see why. I hope Nelson isn't this confrontational.” James set down his sandwich. “It seems that no matter what I say, Gideon takes the opposite view these days.”

  “It'll get better,” Anabelle counseled. “We lived through it, and you will too.”

  “She's a beautiful girl,” Candace commented. “What's her name?”

  “Jenni Erickson.”

  “Oh, I think I know her parents,” Candace said. “The mother's a pretty blonde too, right?”

  James nodded.

  “They came out to help with the women's shelter's Day of Caring. Brooke and I volunteered to sort the donated clothing by size, and we worked with them. Jan and…Zeke, right? They were very nice.”

  “I hope we get a chance to meet her,” Elena said. “I’m dying of curiosity.”

  Everyone chuckled, even James.

  Anabelle was dying of curiosity too. “If he's still dating her in a few weeks, he could bring her to the Fourth of July picnic. Cam and I are hosting one again this year, and of course you and your families are all invited.”

  “Thank you,” Candace said. “We all enjoy that so much.” She blushed. “Heath will be with us this year.”

  Elena grinned. “Last year, you were just beginning to think about dating him. My, how times change.”

  “They certainly do.” Anabelle didn't feel nearly as happy as she had a moment ago. “Kirstie won't be there this year. Her internship at the Shedd Aquarium requires her to be there on the Fourth. She was told it's one of their busiest days of the summer.”

  “Really?” James said. “I would have thought everyone would be involved in family activities on the Fourth. It just doesn't seem like a ‘tour the aquarium’ kind of day to me.”

  “I think they have a number of special activities planned for the tourists,” Anabelle told him, unable to hide her disappointment. Elena reached over and gave her a brief hug, and she smiled gratefully at her friend.

  “When does she leave?” Candace asked.

  “Right after school lets out for the summer.” Anabelle wrinkled her nose, and her shoulders slumped as she thought about the upcoming months. “She's going to be gone for eight whole weeks.”

  Elena patted her arm sympathetically. “I know you’re going to miss her.”

  “I am.” Anabelle sighed. “Much more, I think, than she’ll miss us. She's so excited that she can hardly wait.”

  There was a moment's brief silence while the group shared Anabelle's melancholy. Then Candace cleared her throat. “I guess you’ve been busy too, working on that award nomination. How is that going?”

  “Not so well, if you want the truth,” Anabelle said. “I do appreciate your concern, but it isn't really something I can talk about right now.” She rubbed her temples. “How do I get myself involved in these things?”

  Elena smiled. “You say yes. Just like we all do. We’re all cursed with the helpful gene.”

  Candace burst out laughing. “The helpful gene?”

  “Yeah,” Elena said. “You know. If someone asks you to help with something, you really intend to say no because you’re already too busy, and you open your mouth and ‘yes’ just pops out.”

  “That describes me to a tee.” Candace's tone was rueful. “I volunteered to go with one of my moms to an ultrasound last week.” She told them the Nottingtons’ story, being circumspect as always with patient names and then described the moments when they’d learned their baby would have Down syndrome.

  Anabelle sat up straight. “Really? Did you know Penny Risser has a sister with Down's?”

  Elena's eyes widened. “Penny Risser has a sister? Wow, I guess I thought she hatched fully grown behind her desk.”

  Anabelle sent Elena a reproving look. “You know, comments like that are why so many people in this hospital think she's so scary.”

  “She is scary.” Elena stuck to her guns. “She guards Varner's office so efficiently, no one goes near there unless they desperately need the man.”

  Anabelle couldn't refute the truth of that. “Regardless, she's a very pleasant person. You should get to know her better.”

  Candace, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat. “Anabelle, I have a question. Do you think Penny would be willing to talk to my patients? I think it might be very helpful for them to actually speak with another person who has a Down syndrome family member.”

  Anabelle shrugged. “I don't see why not. I’ll ask her to get in touch with you if she says she’ll do it.”

  Before dinner that evening, James was peering out the window at his bird feeder, or rather, his squirrel feeder. Unfortunately, that was what it appeared to have become. As he watched, yet another squirrel bounded across the yard, scampered up a tree, and athletically leaped at least ten feet down onto the top of the feeder; he suddenly couldn't take it anymore.

  Yanking open the door, he burst outside, yelling, “Yaa! Get out of here! Get! Shoo!”

  The squirrels vanished faster than he could say, “Birdseed.”

  Behind him, someone made a strangled sound that was suspiciously close to a snicker. Turning around, James saw Gideon leaning in the doorway, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “That's the way to tell ’em, Dad.”

  Fern ducked beneath her tall son's arm, hands on her hips. “What on earth are you yelling about?” Her eyes narrowed, as she glanced from Gideon to James to the bird feeder. “I swear, I’m about ready to take that thing down and forget bird-watching,” she said. “It's pretty silly when a grown man lets squirrels raise his blood pressure.”

  James felt a bubble of laughter swelling his own chest, and soon he was laughing right along with Gideon. “I guess I’m getting a little too serious about this squirrel stuff, aren't I?”

  “A little,” Gideon agreed, grinning. “Why don't you just buy something that will stop them?”

  “I looked into squirrel-proof feeders,” James told him, “but the really good ones that I think would work are all very expensive.” />
  Gideon shrugged. “Can't you make something? I can't believe you can't outsmart a rat with a bushy tail.”

  James raised one eyebrow. “Back at you, buddy. If you think it's so easy, let's see you design a squirrel-proof feeder that we can build for less than we could buy one.”

  “You’re on.” Gideon walked away whistling.

  An hour later, though, James wasn't smiling. Gideon came to the dinner table late carrying a wrinkled, dog-eared form that he handed to James.

  “What's this?” James tried to smooth out the paper, leaning over so Fern also could see it.

  “Schedule,” Gideon said. He took his seat across from Nelson and shook out a napkin. “I’m starving. Can we say grace and eat?”

  James bit his tongue to prevent himself from delivering a lecture on manners. “Let's bow our heads,” he said instead.

  After grace had been said, and the first flurry of dishes had been passed and served, James returned to the paper his son had handed him. “Now. What about a schedule?”

  “It's my academic plan for next year. I need you to sign it. It's due tomorrow.”

  James looked it over, dismayed to see that Gideon had not signed up for a single Advanced Placement course, although it was a relief to see he still was enrolled in the JROTC program. Silently, he handed the paper to Fern. Gideon might not have been the academic star that his younger brother was; but he certainly was capable of AP work and should, at the very least, be taking AP European History, AP Chemistry, and Honors English for juniors.

  Clearing his throat, James said, “I don't see any APs on that list.”

  “I don't want to take AP classes.” Gideon continued to shovel food into his mouth, looking studiously at his plate rather than making eye contact. “They’re supposed to be super hard, and they take up all of your time, everyone says.”

  “That may be true,” James said, “but school is your job right now, and it should be taking up most of your time. You need AP credits to compete for college scholarships. And, son, we really need you to apply yourself, to do your best to earn some scholarship money.”