Origami Heart (Book 3 - DP series - COMPLETE)

21. Kiss

When I first had Haley, there were moments when I wondered if maybe I was a little bit embarrassed. People view Down's Syndrome as an imperfection and I'd spent my entire life trying to be as perfect as possible. But then I got to thinking, had Haley been a 'normal' baby then I don't think this feeling would change. And it's not because I'm ashamed of Haley. It's because I'm ashamed of me. I made a mistake and now everyone knows it.

But then that realization sparks an entirely new problem within me. I let my mind rewind to that one moment when I gave in. When I let my physical desires win out, and I find myself wondering if things would have been any different had I waited for marriage. Was Haley's 'abnormality' a consequence for my wrongs? If I'd gotten married first, would she still be a Down Syndrome baby?

The truth is, I've had a lot of time to ponder a lot of things, and in the end, I realize the same thing. I made a mistake... I didn't create one. Haley might not be everyone's ideal version of a perfect baby, but those are the people who don't realize the blessings that accompany mothering such a child. Sure, it's hard. Harder than hard. There are days I want to lock myself in a dark closet, my thoughts and tears muffled by the boxes and clothing stored around me, and cry. Crying keeps me healthy. But then that precious moment strikes. That moment when Haley senses my inner turmoil. It's remarkable. Sure, Haley's developmental progress is lagging. Sure, her physical features give her away as not being 'normal'. Sure, her tantrums are sometimes a force to be reckoned with. But she possesses a level of compassion that seems almost absurd for her age.

She's nine months old, but there are moments when she knows exactly what I need. I'll be having a particularly hard day and I'll glance over at Haley playing in her crib or rolling around on the living room carpet and she'll look up and smile. There's no smile that compares to that one. The one that tells me that I'm not invisible. My feelings aren't invisible. That's when I know I've got something that most parents don't. That's the moment I realize how blessed I am. Haley isn't a burden; she's a gift.

Andy saw that too. Last night when I confessed the truth about her, his reaction was not what I'd expected. I know Andy well. I figured he'd be one-hundred and ten percent supportive. What I hadn't expected was for his face to light up at the mention of her Down Syndrome. He'd actually been excited. After he left, I realized that I shouldn't have been surprised. Andy's always been the type to accept people for who they are. He's the guy who'd go out of his way to make the 'uncool' kids feel important. Color, religion, ethics, culture—none of that stuff even phases him. I sometimes wonder if he even sees those things. Maybe that's why he's so loved by everyone and maybe that's why I always feel so comfortable confessing my problems to him first.

Stretching out in bed, I roll to my side and watch Haley's little chest rise and fall. She looks so peaceful, so unaware of how cruel people can be. I worry about her. I worry about how the world will treat her as she gets older. I just hope I can be the right influence on her—teaching her to be compassionate and warm and to be able to be bright and silly. I want her to be confident enough in herself that she can make fun of herself and love herself. 

People are too sensitive these days—getting offended by others opinions or making a big deal out of the fact that their hot coffee is too hot and McDonald's should be sued. I don't want Haley to be one of those people. I don't want her to get crushed beneath the harsh words of a bitter world. Instead, I want her to give people a reason to smile. I want her to shrug off the negativity and move on. Lighten up; embrace life; don't let that one experience determine your entire existence. Like Gavin... So he can't grow a beard. Who cares. But rather than let people's teasing get to him, he laughs along with them. He refuses to be emasculated by something he can't control and I respect him so much for that.

Pushing back my covers, I slide out of bed and head for the shower. It's still dark outside but I can't sleep anymore. My mind hasn't shut down since last night. Talking with Andy has given me motivation. It's time to stop hiding the truth from the people I love. Maybe they'll be disappointed in me, but they'll get over it. Honestly, after hearing Andy's reaction, I have a feeling they're all going to be more disappointed in the fact that I didn't tell them sooner.