Love heals broken dreams

Nykie and Miah have a special journey to share. Photo / Janna Dixon

When Nykie Grove-Eades' daughter was born last year with Down syndrome the 32-year-old Birkenhead designer thought her dreams for the future had been dashed. This is her story.

I had a traumatic birth with my first child, Andrew, who was eight weeks premature. I longed for a smooth run with my second-born. I knew she was a girl.

And now I wish I hadn't found out because I spent six months daydreaming about what my life was going to

be like - how she would share my passion for art, and we could go shopping together, discuss things of the world and have a wonderful friendship, and how one day I would be helping her through raising her own family and all those things we mums dream about.

Well, I got what I wanted for the birth. My baby girl's birth was magical. I was so proud of myself and although she came five weeks early and again I had to be induced, I got through it with no pain relief.

I felt on top of a mountain. I was yelling at everyone in the room: "I did it, I did it, my wee girl." We named her Miah after my much-loved grandma.

She is really here. I was so intensely excited. Then I stopped. Why is everyone in the room looking at me so strangely?

Come on people, share the joy. My husband Nigel tried to speak, but he just looked at me, and my lovely midwife took over and held my hand: "Nykie, it looks like Miah has Down syndrome."

My world stopped. I felt my heart sink. I couldn't comprehend the words I had just heard. I went numb. Someone had ripped from me the girl that I had daydreamed about for all those months. She was gone forever. In just one sentence my world was flipped upside down.

I couldn't feel anything. I tried to feed her and I couldn't feel anything. I asked that she be put into an incubator and tube fed. I couldn't handle it. I went to bed. Felt nothing. I stared at the clock ticking on the wall for hours ... then eventually feel asleep. Not a tear. Just shock.

When I awoke, I had that split second of "everything is okay" - but then the realisation hit. I have never felt such pain. I cried so hard. I cried and cried and cried. I pulled that damned ticking clock off the wall and buried it in the linen hamper so time would stop passing while I sat heartbroken in that tiny grey room.

Nigel then arrived back. I had sent him home the night before. I cried: "She's not what I was wanting, she isn't the one I daydreamed about."

His eyes still red from his own night of turmoil, he said: "I know it hurts Nykie, but she is our little girl. She needs us, let's go and see her."

So we did. I got her out of the incubator, and held her sweet little hand - and I fell madly in love.

No, she probably won't bear children. She may not be the world's best artist. But we will have a friendship and a bond that no one can take away. She is my little girl - it just took me some time to see that.

I'm so glad I never found out about Miah's diagnosis.

I shudder to think that I could have terminated Miah if I knew.

But I have such a different outlook on life now. She has opened my eyes so wide, I don't know how I existed before. We have a different path laid out for us now.

I have accepted it and we are moving forward. I have met so many lovely people. Other parents with special-needs children who all have this amazing insight that I have been given.

The world is not perfect, and we need to embrace that. People are different - they have disabilities, strengths and weaknesses, but we all deserve to be here and to be loved.

"Miah Miah pants on fire ... Miah Moo Moo," the sweetest little thing in my life that I love with all my heart and soul. I am glad to be sharing this journey with you.

www.upsideofdown.co.nz