People come and go through our lives every day. Some are very important to us like our family and friends while others we do not even notice as we pass them on the street. Some people however, step into our lives for a specific reason, for a specific time, then step out again. These people teach us things. They share a moment with us. These people may not even know how important they were to us. This post is about one of these people.
Have you ever spoken to a person from another English speaking country and used a word that does not quite translate? Sometimes that is the way it is when a doctor and a mother try to speak. It is not that they are not speaking somewhat of the same language; it is just some words mean different things to each person. Let us take the word “un-diagnosised” for example. To the doctors it meant, they have not decided on a diagnoses yet. They know it is something. They are waiting on test results. They will label it. At worst, it will be labeled “we don’t know” or “it doesn’t have a name so now we get to pick the name ourselves.” To me, however, it meant “nothing.” She has nothing. She is fine. She will soon be healthy and we can move on. Unfortunately, neither the doctors nor I caught this mistranslation until I got the news of the official diagnosis.
My husband had to work and Justice needed to see the geneticist soon after coming home from the hospital. They had run a bunch of tests while we were in hospital and now the results were back. When I arrived, I was surprised to see a new doctor was seeing us that day. I was a little disappointed in this since you tend to want to stay with the doctors you know. I had met so many by now, I did not really want any more. Nevertheless, this doctor seemed nice enough. We went over Justice’s medical history again and he looked her over from head to toe. As he did this, I do not think he realized it, or maybe it is just his job, but he was describing every inch of her as a deformity. He started with her curly hair then her ears, eyes, nose, lips, chin, neck, chest, arms, elbows, hips, knees, feet and even her toenails. My heart sank. I felt like I was being stoned to death. I just wanted to rip my baby out of his arms and run away. I couldn't believe he didn't see how beautiful she was. I just didn't understand why he didn't have anything nice to say but he was busy. He got used to these terms, this language, and probably just forgot it was new to me.
We finished the appointment with him finally telling me she has Noonan Syndrome. The tests had come back and said it is not Turner Syndrome. There it was the one I did not want her to have because I hated that name.
This is the only time in my life I really do not remember a span of time. I remember being in the doctor’s office and the next thing I remember is pulling into the post office a block from my house, 60 miles later.
This is where that special someone held me up. If someone would have told me when I was 13 my 7th grade math teacher was going to be so special to me I would have died laughing. I knew she was always a very nice person and had lost a grandchild with Down’s syndrome but I was busy with being caught up in myself at age 13. Now here she was, one of the only other people in town who could imagine what I was going through and she was working alone at the Post Office that day. She was the last person on my mind but she was the person I needed the most at that moment. I do not remember it very well but I do remember she was so kind and loving. She did not make me feel judged or like I had done anything to inflict this on Justice. She made me feel like she understood my pain and that Justice was a beautiful baby.
I thank her so much for that day. In one of the worst moments of my life, she brought light. I do not just look on this day with sadness. I look at it with thankfulness and joy because my 7th grade math teacher walked back into my life, if only for a moment.
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