When Lucca was born, Shannon and I both suspected that he had this condition. We kept it inside. Our boy was healthy and eating and pooping and doing things all infants do. We received word today from the genetic tests. Needless to say, we were floored with the news. As of this entry, we are both still saddened by the news.
Fortunately, I tend to err on the side of positivity. Lucca is not showing many of the signs that may possibly hurt him later in life. His heart is currently strong and that is a big concern with children who are born with this condition. His muscle tone is great. His eyes are working well. He is responding to stimuli as all his peers would.
Right now we are mourning the boy we thought we were having. It's normal. Crying is a good thing to do and it's been too damn long since I did it anyhow. But I know my boy will be just fine. He is going to live a healthy and hearty life. He will be loved by his family. He will be given opportunities to do what all other kids will do. How do I know that? Because what's my alternative? To sit and mope? To get into a depressive state? To show my son that I've given up on him? Fuck that.
What happened to Lucca was something on a microcosmic level. It will affect him minimally if it all. I see it as a chance for our family to grow. I'll tell you this much, he will still have to learn how to deal with this thing called life. Every thing on Earth does. I think he'll do just fine.
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