To Ren Love, Daddy

You’ve got to hear a lot about what I’ve gone through. But you haven’t got to hear from the one that keeps me together. Tommy has been keeping a journal and has been very diligent on writing in it daily, even before we knew about Ren. I want to share with you guys one of his journal entries that he wrote when we found out about our new journey.

12/04/2018

Today was the day that dictated the path for the rest of our lives. I wish I could say we were prepared, but we weren’t. With our initial tests coming back that our child had a 1/12 chance of having Down Syndrome, we were all holding onto that little bit of hope that was left. As the doctor and ultrasound tech came in the room following the ultrasound, that hope instantly vanished as we were told the news. Heartbreaking is an understatement. As I looked at Toni I could see the devastation written all over her face even though she was doing her best to hold back the tears. As for me, my heart was breaking as I sat there utterly helpless. Not because of the results, but because my wife was breaking down before my eyes and I could do nothing to take the pain away. This should be one of the most joyous times in our lives. Instead, it has been filled with tears.

Though I was hoping it not to be true, in all honesty, I already knew. A few weeks back I repeatedly had this small thought that this child was going to be born a little “different.” I would shrug it off by telling myself that I’m just thinking this because our last pregnancy had a bad ending. The more and more I shrugged it off, the more and more it would creep down into my thoughts. So does it mean that I’m not sad when the doctor put the stamp on the head? No, I’m devastated. But am I surprised? No, not in the slightest. The tears may be of sadness now, but I know before long they will be tears of joy.

A little letter to Ren:

Dear Ren,

One of the best memories I have growing up is my dad (Grandpa Register) teaching me how to ride a bicycle without training wheels. For about a week straight he would patiently push me and not let go. Though I didn’t want him to let me go, he didn’t want to let go even more. He knew that if he did, I would fall. He knew it was a risk. But he also knew that it was a risk that we both had to take so I could grow. As he pushed me one last time, he let go. I peddled as fast as I could, just as he taught me. As we got further and further down the street, I could still feel his hands tightly gripped to my back. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was still pushing me. To my surprise, as I turned around to ask, I saw him down the street with his hands raised in the air in excitement. As I sit and think whom it may have been that held onto me as my dad let go, I can’t help but know it was someone who deeply cares and loves me on the other side.

Renny boy, this life will be tough. It scares me to death to think of all the trials and mountains you may have to climb. But son, you are so loved. You have the greatest team behind you, both on this side and the other. I promise I will love, protect, guide, teach, and even push you. Does it scare me? Of course it does. But as I sit here with tears coming down my face, I am comforted in knowing that when we take the risk of letting you peddle over those mountains, you will have guardian angels there to protect and help push you along. Down Syndrome doesn’t define you. You are perfect as you are. You are a child of God.

I love you son.

Love, Daddy