By Jennifer Dyer
A baby is born…
I can’t believe a decade has slipped by since Rachel made her first appearance on a sunny day in January. After a troubled pregnancy with multiple scares, a miraculous reattachment to the uterine wall, and months of bed rest, Rachel decided enough was enough. Although she was a month early, she was ready to make a grand entrance.
And it was grand. With 13 people in the operating room counting sponges repeatedly, Rachel readied to exit stage right. My heart lurched when both doctors leaned over my belly and gasped, saying, “Oh, my God,” in tandem.
They delivered her, placing her on my chest for about two seconds before whisking her to NICU. Fortunately, Rachel was released after only a few hours, and we thought all was well.
A baby with a destiny…
The next day, my doctor came into the room and cradled Rachel close to her chest. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she leveled me with a look. “I want you to understand how many times over this baby is a miracle. She should not have survived, but God intervened for her multiple times. This is a miracle baby. God has big plans for her.”
I tucked that into my heart and felt tension melt away. God had plans for her. Everything was going to be all right. I mean, big plans means big stuff, right? President? Campaign for international justice? Building water wells in Africa? Who knew how far she would go?
A shift in thought…
So, why in the next several years did Rachel lag behind developmentally? For a while, we thought she was deaf. The doctors also said she was just catching up to her peers. One neurologist walked into the exam room, glanced at Rachel sitting in the corner and stated, “There is nothing wrong with that child.” He left the room about two minutes later.
But just before Christmas, a month before she turned three, Rachel was diagnosed with severe autism. After the initial shock wore off, in some ways I was relieved. I finally had a reason my life was so stressful. What took most moms ten minutes took us hours. Each day was full of screaming tantrums. My picture-perfect home and life were lost under a mound of laundry and messes. Sleep was a long-forgotten memory. I scrubbed poop off the walls, furniture, and carpet daily…for years. We couldn’t go in public without Rachel stripping naked and screaming, or worse, darting through crowds like a cat with ten hounds on her tail.
Tiny prayers mean big things…
The other day I paused to look back. I remembered a tiny prayer spoken years ago. “Lord, I don’t want to be stressed all the time. Help me to be more laid back.”
Not the most eloquent of prayers, but meant from the heart. I was tired of being Stressed-Out Jennifer. My perfectionism held me in a gripped fist. I was sick of worrying about the perfection of my house, my bank accounts, my body, my…everything.
Have you ever heard that saying, “Be careful what you pray for?”
Yeah, I’ve heard it too…
Rachel moving ahead.
Sadly, sometimes we have to take a ride through hell to gain a deeper understanding of God’s grace. Sometimes we need trials to shape our hearts into something beautiful. And sometimes we have to walk through the deepest of valleys before we learn to look up.
Do I wish things could be different for Rachel? Of course. When I look at her typical age peers, my heart squeezes so tight it shatters. But when I see Rachel’s beautiful smile or hear her say “Elmo,” my cracked heart becomes soft again. It is as if I see the sunrise for the first time whenever Rachel says “Mama”, eats a bite of an apple, writes her name, signs her sister’s name, and signs “Grandpa.”
I’ve learned to find beauty in the tiniest of moments and to see rays of hope in the darkest hours. I’ve learned that messes don’t matter and that the external fades away (just ask any mom after years of sleep deprivation).
Rachel knows she is different—she’s very smart. But it doesn’t bother her. She is the picture of joy, especially when left to her favorite mediums of glue and paper or when jumping into a pool.
Lest I make this all about me…
I’ve seen a depth of character in Eldest that is born from a life of trials. She was right beside me through all the messes and tantrums. She had to ride in the van next to a naked, screaming child. And she was the one Rachel would crawl in bed with each night–although Rachel doesn’t know how to interact, she doesn’t want to be alone. And when Eldest is gone, she is the one Rachel asks for…repeatedly. (The girl doesn’t give up. Ha!)
Rachel has made a difference in too many lives to count. A hug from Rachel is enough to bring tears to people’s eyes. Hundreds of people who have met her have a changed view of the world. She gets into hearts and makes them grow several sizes. Our family will never be the same, and we are all better for it. She brings out the best in people, even when it’s people forgiving us for flooding their houses…twice.
And you know what? Who knows what Rachel will achieve in her future? Look at Temple Grandin. But even if the world were to end tomorrow, I’d venture to say Rachel has accomplished more in her first decade than many in their entire lives.
Happy birthday, my precious Rachel. It’s OK that you don’t always like the singing. I know you’ll watch it a thousand times on your iPad and love every minute of it.