Did you ever have a moment in life when you wished you could go back and change your mindset, your attitude, or even your expectations? I did. That moment came the day my daughter, Lily, was born.
My pregnancy with Lily was far from easy. Early on, I was diagnosed with a subchorionic hematoma—a blood clot that forms between the placenta and the uterine wall. This condition put me at a very high risk of miscarriage, and there were several moments when I feared I might lose her. I prayed constantly, asking God for a healthy baby girl.
During my pregnancy, I chose to decline genetic testing. I kept thinking, “What are the chances of me having a baby with a chromosomal condition? I’m 26. My oldest son, David, is healthy. And with all the ultrasounds we’ve had because of the hematoma, everything looked okay.” I was so sure. But, as it turns out, I was wrong.
Fortunately, the hematoma eventually dissolved, and my pregnancy progressed without further complications. At 40 weeks and four days, I was induced on March 18th because Lily stubbornly refused to come on her own. My mom was originally supposed to be in the delivery room with us, but the world was beginning to shut down due to the pandemic, and the hospital changed its policy to allow only one support person. So it was just my husband and me.
We were filled with excitement and anticipation, just like when we welcomed David four years earlier. As I prepared to be induced, we shared dreams about who Lily might become and what life might hold for her. But the labor didn’t go as we had imagined.
My body reacted poorly to the epidural, and my contractions were relentless, with barely any breaks. Lily began showing signs of distress, and I panicked as I realized I couldn’t even feel my arms. Eventually, I had to push her out naturally. It was intense, messy, and nothing like the calm, textbook birth I had imagined—but finally, Lily arrived.
They placed her briefly on my chest before taking her to the other side of the room for a quick exam. When she was returned to me, my husband shared what the pediatrician had said: Lily had low muscle tone, and the doctor thought she might have Down syndrome. I brushed it off at first, thinking he was overreacting, but my heart was already racing.
Later, the pediatrician came to speak with us directly. She gently explained that she believed Lily might have Down syndrome. For a moment, the world froze. My husband and I asked over and over how likely it was that she was wrong. She said there was a small chance, but she rarely missed this kind of diagnosis. The only way to be certain was through genetic testing, which would take about a week.
The rest of that day felt heavy with sadness and fear. I called my parents, we shared the news, and countless thoughts raced through my mind: How will I tell everyone? Why us? Am I capable of raising her? What will David think of his baby sister? Will I ever be able to do the things I dreamed of with her? Even while grappling with these fears, I reminded myself that I had once feared losing her entirely.
That first day, bonding with Lily was difficult. My husband and I cried together, overwhelmed and unsure. He went to check on David, who was staying with my parents, while my mom was able to come in briefly to meet Lily. I finally held her, and in her tiny face, I saw beauty, perfection, and innocence.
As my parents took turns holding her, my husband finally gathered the courage to hold Lily himself. At first, he hesitated, unsure of what to expect—but soon, he was falling in love with her. In those early moments, we realized she was just as perfect as David had been when he was born.
Coming home was another wave of emotion. Our parents and David eagerly awaited us. David, seeing his baby sister for the first time, embraced her without hesitation. In his eyes, she was just Lily—his sister. Already, he loved her fiercely and even shed tears when he missed her.
A week later, the genetic testing confirmed Lily had Down syndrome. There was a brief flicker of sadness, but this time it was tempered by acceptance. I had braced myself, and I knew deep down that Lily was exactly who she was meant to be.
Now, at almost ten months old, Lily is a constant source of joy. She smiles at everything and everyone, radiating a sweetness I’ve never experienced. She is our little angel, and life without her is unimaginable. David, too, is learning about her special needs as she undergoes various therapies, but he is patient, loving, and endlessly helpful. The two of them are inseparable—two siblings whose bond transcends any challenges.
God put Lily in our lives for a reason. And though the journey was harder than I ever expected, it brought a love deeper than anything I could have imagined.
