Something strange is happening.
I have noticed that the people around are looking at me differently.
They are speaking to me differently.
People that once didn't seem to care to take the time to speak to me are stopping to chat.
They all want to know about Eslea.
I see it in their faces. They know. They all know. They have all been told by one person or another. The word spreading like a brush fire after a long drought.
Their eyes show that they are struggling somewhat with the words they are choosing but they are fairly certain the right ones have made way to their lips.
They have heard. They want to know.
I try to make it easier. I begin by saying that she is great. She is beautiful. She is making it day by day.
Yet the look on their face is still there. They want to ask. To find out if it's true.
Again, I try to make it easier. I tell them that she was born with down syndrome and that she also struggles with a pretty severe heart defect, two holes to be exact.
Their face changes. Yes. That is what they wanted to hear.
But which was it? Which one were they most curious about?
I do not know for sure and probably never will.
It doesn't matter. For I am certain that what drives their curiosity is not the same factor that keeps me up at night. It's not the aspect of Eslea's condition that has me watching her mouth closely as she eats to make sure she doesn't turn blue.
So, I say something else to them. I tell them that she is perfect. She is as close to heaven as I can get on this earth and I am overwhelmed that I get to be her mother.
They can not know that what causes me the most concern at night has nothing to do with that tiny extra chromosome.
It is something greater. Something so very small that struggles every second to work efficiently.
It is her heart.
Yet every day it continues to beat.
Every night I thank my Savior for allowing me another day to spend with her....and that extra chromosome.
Regardless of what their motivation may be, I am grateful that people take the time to ask about her.
So thank you to everyone that ask. Thank you for taking the time to ask about my little buggie.
I am determined that sometime in the near future to squeeze me some sweet juicy baby thighs.
Eslea's strength is in her legs.
In an effort to keep that as a strength, she takes part in baby leg presses.
It's not her favorite thing, but after about a minute of groaning and pushing she finally gets somewhere. That's right. That's my baby.