Glancing over the patient list this morning, my eyes lingered on the bolded phrase "NbBoy X, Known Trisomy 21." My stomach sank as the possible complications of that diagnosis began running through my head.
A few minutes later, after we had discussed each patient with the residents, we began our morning rounds in the nursery to perform our newborn exams.
Walking into that patient's room I didn't really know what to expected. Disappointment? Sadness? Fear of caring for a child with disabilities? Whatever angst I was feeling quickly dissipated as we all piled into the room to a grandpa's happy and proud laugh. A dad grinning from ear to ear. And a mom gently holding her new baby, smiling that tired but completely content smile, as only new mom's can.
We spoke with the parents, wheeled over baby boy X in his crib and began examining him. Once we were done we wrapped him up snug and passed him back to mom, who was clearly already completely in love with her new baby.
Later that morning, when we were discussing patient plans, one of the interns asked if the parents were aware of the situation. My resident said yes, and that they had been informed a couple months ago. The two of them began tossing around the idea that maybe the parents were in denial or didn't fully understand the diagnosis.
And, while I am definitely new here, I don't think denial was it at all. Because watching the mom look into the eyes of her new son, I only saw one thing, and it was love.
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