From the Car to the Elevator

When Sport was 2 days old his bowel perforated; he was septic and we almost lost him.  He came through surgery and his little 7lb body was fighting an uphill battle.  It was my shift at the hospital; I had been talking to my very good friend as I parked the car in the parking structure next to the hospital.  My friend had a normal healthy baby boy about 10 days before Sport was born.  She had just discovered her baby had a heart condition and as we were discussing it she said, "oh it's nothing compared to what you're going through right now".  I jokingly said, "glad I could be here for you".  I was sincerely happy the condition she was dealing with was not life threatening and her baby would be fine.  My baby I wasn't so sure. 
My heart was very heavy as I headed into the hospital and I wasn't loving the fact that my situation was providing perspective for someone else.  I boarded the elevator and there was another couple headed up to the NICU I had seen them before and so I asked (dumb me) "how is your baby doing?"
"He is dying; they think we only have a couple of days with him"
My heart bottomed out; what do you say to that?
I said, "I am so sorry"
To this day I can still see the agony and pain on their faces and it brings tears to my eyes.

So much for perspective, obviously I didn't have it as bad as I thought I did.  My baby was still hooked to what seemed like a thousand monitors and tubes, I couldn't hold him, I couldn't feed him but I knew he was going to make it.

This past Sunday morning Indy left for the airport about 5am.  About 7am I woke up to Sport's feet in my back pushing me off the bed...and I could smell it...as I looked around he had a poop blow out that basically covered (as he rolled around) every pillow-case, bottom sheet, top sheet, comforter, and himself.  I didn't know where to start.  It is what it is; that's what happens when you don't have a large colon.  I couldn't get mad and I couldn't fix it because they don't sell colons at Walmart or on Ebay.  Bubba was awake and crying, Sport had to be cleaned up and it was Sunday, with Indy out of town that meant me and 4 kids in Sacrament by myself.  I can do this, I can do this and I did...except..

Introducing Sister Stress.  Keep in mind Sacrament had not been a high point, the main text of the meeting was how we should never wear jeans in the chapel or bishops office and teach our children reverence during Sacrament. Ok, super duper! ... I was walking back after Sunday School and Sport was sitting in the hallway (obviously not in primary) refusing to move.  I got him up and we were waiting for sharing time to finish.  Sister S. walks up; the long and the short of it was, her daugher that is Sport's age has some learning disabilites.  She spent the entire Summer stressed out about the possibility of her daughter being even 'mildly retarted' and couldn't stand the thought of her being in a class like Sports at school.  And she told me it would just be so much easier if her daughter had Down Syndrome.  I wasn't sure what to say.  I'm still not sure what I should even think.  I'm not offended; I get that this lady is stressed and sincerely trying to do the best for her daughter, but I really really wanted her to go and take an elevator ride at the Childrens Hospital.
If I could rewind time I would say:
Dear Sister S.
I know this is hard but
Stop and RELAX...You are doing a great job with your daughter
You may think someone else has it easier but you are WRONG and even if they did, it doesn't matter anyway
 Love and DISCOVER your daughter for who she is AND not who you think she should become.
AND last CHERISH every breathing moment you have with her
even the hard ones.