A beautiful heart

Sunday night, I wrote a post, "Be in the Moment."

And I have.

It's meant fewer tweets, and posts to Instagram.

It's meant delayed responses to texts, and lingering at the dinner table.

It's meant rocking Baker long after he drifts off to dreams, and trips out of town on school nights for time with friends.

It's meant slowing down the pace, and leaving items undone.

It's meant time spent making memories and being in the moment with those I love the most.

Being present in each part of the week instead of just living for the weekends has made it a wonderful week.

It has made me find the special in each day.

When you really engage in conversations, and walk through Target smiling at fellow shoppers, when you stop to pray with coworkers in the teachers' lounge, and write notes of encouragement, when you drop your agenda and let another dictate the conversation, each day is special.

Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of time.

Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of relationships.

Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of time to strengthen and deepen relationships.

On Wednesday, I took a half day at work to take Baker to Children's Hospital in Birmingham.

Throughout my pregnancy, the doctors monitored Baker's heart, 

especially after we learned of the heightened chance of him being born with Down Syndrome.

In the NICU, the specialists kept a close eye on all things, especially pertaining to cardiology.

But, honestly, since then, we haven't had any check ups.

Our pediatrician said it would give her the "warm fuzzies" if we saw a cardiologist.

Now, I try not to worry too much.

And many times I fail.

For whatever reason, I worked myself into such a tizzy before this appointment, sure this would be the appointment we got bad news.

My devotional the night before was about Jesus giving, and Jesus taking away.

I was a hot mess.

Baker and I got to Birmingham too early, and stopped at McDonald's to share an ice cream cup.

You know, celebrate before, think good thoughts, happy heart thoughts.

 We strolled through the Women's and Infant's Center, the same place I had the Comprehensive Level II Ultrasound the Friday before Baker was born. 

Talk about a rush of emotions.

In the waiting room, we met a little girl who had graduated from RISE six years ago and was now in a regular education classroom in a public school system.

Baker was a perfect angel.

We sang "Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee" something like 37 times.

He kept loving on me and rubbing my back.

 We read Highlights and rode the horsey down to town, down to town, down to town, careful not to let Little Baker fall down.

Then the nurse called us back.

She took his height and weight.

34 inches and 25.4 pounds.

Then she hooked up 10 electrodes to his bare belly and chest.

Then we waited some more.

We waited in the waiting room

Then we waited in a holding room.

Then the angel nurse took us to a very warm room.

I met the doctor.

I undressed Baker, and placed him on the bed, which he did not like very much at all.

Using an ultrasound machine, the doctor carefully inspected all of the nooks and crannies in his chest.

Baker got antsy.

The nurse gave him a lollipop and blew bubbles.

The doctor inspected some more.

And then some more.

And then, Baker signed "bumblebee."

And right there in that warm room, with the ultrasound machine capturing my son's beautiful heart, the doctor started singing "I'm Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee."

And with those few words and few notes, he earned platinum status in my book.

He wiped Baker's chest, sat him up straight, turned on the lights, and said words I will forever remember.

"Baker does not have a Down Syndrome heart."

He checked and rechecked for holes and murmurs.

Both very common in children with Down Syndrome, and both very scary.

I already knew it.

The doctor confirmed it.

Baker has a beautiful heart. 

And one that has most certainly captured mine.

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. 

I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, 

I know that full well. 

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, 

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

 all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. 

How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them!"
Psalms 139:13-17