Miracle Baby

After five years and a miscarriage, on my 6th Wedding Anniversary I knew I was pregnant. He had most likely been conceived on his father’s birthday, and finding out on our anniversary was an omen that my miracle baby was to come. I knew I was pregnant before I could even test it, and the very first pregnancy test I did showed a very faint second red line. I called my friend and asked what that meant, and she said, “it means you’re pregnant.” But I still had to double check and got a pack of the digital display pregnancy tests and used them both, just to make sure they both said pregnant! I wonder if even Abraham and Sarah wanted Isaac as much as I wanted Cade.

My phospitalregnancy was healthy and normal until the end, when the chain of events leading to his birth occurred rather rapidly. I went in for a normal 40-week check up without knowing that I was closer to death than ever in my life. His heart rate was crashing, my blood pressure high, they said, let’s get this baby born. They wheeled me dramatically to labor and delivery and then decided to immediately induce. I was so scared, and yet so happy anticipating that everyone would be ok. I didn’t know that in the wee hours of the night I would go in shock, and that in the morning my son would be delivered via c-section. I just knew things were serious, but I figured everything would be fine.

Now, the next day, my miracle baby was born. Miracle in that it took us 5 years to get him, and miracle that he had survived the trauma of childbirth, shock, meconium, cord wrapped around his neck, and a c-section on top of it.
He grew happy and healthy, and was he ever gorgeous! Very easy going and pleasant little guy. I had very few concerns until he was 2 and still not talking, so I asked for speech therapy. His speech therapist suggested further testing for spectrum issues, and so we went.

A few months later, we received the diagnosis from the state; he was on the spectrum, pdd-nos. I was alone, and started crying, and I remember saying “But this is my miracle baby”. The nurse responded that he still was. And she’s right; he is my miracle baby. And now my miracle baby is on the road to recovering from autism, and I do believe we will recover.


5 Responses to “Miracle Baby”

  1. Rachel Says:

    A question: What do you mean when you say that your son is “on the road to recovering from autism”? I get worried when I read statements like this one.

    Certainly, people on the spectrum can grow and learn just like anyone else, but no one can change our basic wiring. We are who we are. For me, being autistic has become the source of my strength, my creativity, and my self-esteem. Even if it were possible, I would not want to “recover.” I see and feel things that typical people don’t. I have something to offer the world that typical people don’t. Your beautiful, miraculous son will do the same. Never doubt it.

  2. Melissa Says:

    Yes, I agree, he will always be autistic. Which is why I say recover, not cure. Hopefully we can give him the tools to be himself and function in society, that is my hope. Mainly by meeting the needs that hold him back developmentally, speech and sensory especially.

    See my philosophy is this; I want to find the ways that help him learn and play up his strengths. I don’t want to push him to mainstream, or mediocrity in my mind. But I absolutely do want to bring him to a point where he can function independently in society.

    I have more to come in the next blog I’m working on. It will be about his specific diagnosis and how we plan on helping him, which is what brought me to your blog in the first place!

  3. Rachel Says:

    I see the distinction you’re making, and it’s a good one. It’s always such a fine line between pushing too hard and doing too little, and all parents who really care about their kids struggle with it. I always have and still do, even though my little one is a good half foot taller than me now! 🙂

  4. samuraigecko Says:

    Needless to say I dont share a lot about my pregnancy with people after remarks like that. And my poor husband wonders why Im paranoid.

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