In 2016, I was home full-time with my three kids, ages five, four, and two, and I was pregnant with our fourth. I used to joke with my friends that giving birth would be like taking a short break. I imagined a quiet hospital room, meals brought to me, and no laundry or dishes piling up around me for once.
When I went in for my 20-week ultrasound, my husband Chris came with me. We were excited to find out we had another girl. After he left for work, I stayed for my regular check-up. The doctor said everything looked normal, but there was a tiny bright spot on the baby’s heart.
She explained that this “echogenic focus” did not affect how the heart worked but could be a soft marker for Down syndrome. She offered genetic testing, but I declined. I was only 32, there were no other signs, and honestly, I just did not want the extra worry.
At 34 weeks, we checked again and still saw no concerns. I felt confident everything was fine.
When Scarlett was born, I told her I loved her while holding her in my arms. After the nurse cleaned her up and handed her back to me, I noticed her cheeks looked unusually red and full, and her ears were tiny. I gently questioned my husband if he thought she had Down syndrome. I expected him to laugh it off, but instead he said, “Maybe,” with tears in his eyes.
I asked the nurse, and she looked at Scarlett for only a few seconds before saying yes. I was in shock. I did not expect that answer. Fear hit me hard. I started questioning everything. Would she be healthy? Had I done something wrong? What would this mean for our family?
But when I looked at Scarlett again, I saw my daughter. She was calm, beautiful, and alert. The love was instant. Slowly, I realized I had been afraid because I did not understand. Scarlett has taught me so much. She works harder than most but does it with joy. She is full of personality, determination, and love.
She did not ruin anything. She made everything better.
