I had meticulously planned every detail of my pregnancy and birthing experience—right down to the birth plan. My husband and I attended Lamaze classes together, mastering breathing exercises, birthing positions, and ambiance settings to create the perfect atmosphere for our baby’s arrival. I chose the birthing center with the best reviews because, to me, a hospital felt too clinical for welcoming a newborn.
As my due date approached, I received unexpected news from my midwife: our baby was now footling breech. For him, this meant he was doing splits in my womb. She reassured me that he had plenty of amniotic fluid to move around and suggested trying an External Cephalic Version (ECV) to reposition him. Unfortunately, it was unsuccessful. I remember feeling a mix of pride and frustration—proud of my baby’s acrobatics, yet disappointed as I ugly cried in a coffee shop while writing thank-you notes from my baby shower.
My dream of a serene, candlelit birth in a cozy tub quickly turned into the reality of a stark, sterile operating room filled with bright fluorescent lights. After several doctors refused to perform a vaginal breech birth, I mourned the birthing experience I had envisioned and reluctantly scheduled a C-section. I had a date for Micah’s arrival; I hoped it would be on the 21st, just like mine, so he could have a memorable golden birthday. Little did I know, Micah’s entry into the world would hold more surprises.
Under those fluorescent lights, as my abdomen was open for all to see, my OBGYN lifted him for a brief moment. My first thought was, “Wow, that’s one purple, swollen baby.” They quickly took him to the side and called for a NICU nurse, all huddling around him to monitor his condition.
What felt like an eternity passed in silence. My husband was whispering with the medical staff, and I initially thought he was just processing his new role as a father. But he was grappling with much more. Micah’s eyes appeared a bit more almond-shaped, and he lacked a distinct nose bridge. My husband then asked a nurse if she thought Micah had Down syndrome. At that moment, the room was filled with several medical professionals, and while most focused on Micah, one nurse cast a worried glance in my direction.
“Dad asked if the baby has Down syndrome,” someone called out. My immediate reaction was shock; I responded, “Whaaat?? Really?” My husband looked to the nurse, who nodded at me.
You might wonder how I felt in that moment. Honestly? I was filled with excitement and anticipation to hold him. Nothing had changed for me; I had spent nine months bonding with this little one, and he was already my beloved son.
My next thought was, “Is he going to be okay?” I was concerned that they hadn’t placed him on my chest yet. Thankfully, the anesthesiologist’s nurse sensed my anxiety and said quietly, “You can tell by the mood in the room that he’s okay. They would have taken him by now if things were dire.” I needed that reassurance; any longer without it and I might have burst into tears.
Finally, they placed him on my chest, and it was the moment I had been waiting for. He was here! I felt like I was on cloud nine. Although Micah had some breathing difficulties, and they decided not to send us home until his oxygen levels stabilized, we made the most of our time in the hospital. My mom brightened our stay by bringing sushi for my first non-pregnant meal and frequently making pastry runs to a nearby bakery. We became familiar with the wonderful nurses caring for Micah in the NICU. What began as a few extra days in the hospital turned into weeks filled with pastries and reruns of Friends.
After nearly a month, Micah still needed assistance with his breathing, but he improved enough for us to leave with an oxygen tank. My husband got quite the workout carrying Micah in his car seat, complete with the oxygen tank and pulse oximeter.
Once we arrived home, I sat on our living room couch, taking a moment to let everything sink in. We had spent weeks surrounded by doctors, specialists, and lactation consultants—now, we finally had time alone together, and we felt incredibly blessed.
Reflecting on our journey, I realize just how fortunate we were that Micah made it home with us. There were moments during my pregnancy when I feared for his well-being; he had stopped kicking, and I panicked, rushing to multiple stress tests to confirm his little heart was still beating. Thankfully, it was.
At just 26, it was rare for me to be pregnant with a baby who had Down syndrome. Even rarer, Micah made it to birth, as 50% to 75% of Down syndrome fetuses are lost before term. That’s why I want to shout from the rooftops how special Micah is! His arrival was a big surprise, and while my husband and I processed it differently, we emerged stronger. Micah is extraordinary because of his extra chromosome. He is truly one of a kind—a miracle because he made it.
Fortunately, Micah didn’t need oxygen for long, and we were cleared to stop using it by the new year. He is now a happy and thriving two-year-old, showering us with hugs and kisses, his smile brightening any room. He loves us unconditionally, and believe me, the feeling is mutual.
If you’re interested in more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource from UCSF, or for further reading, see our blog post here and learn from the authority on the subject at Intracervical Insemination.
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In summary, the journey of discovering my child had Down syndrome at birth was filled with unexpected turns, deep emotions, and a realization of how lucky we were to welcome our son, Micah, into the world. His presence has been a blessing that we cherish daily.