My journey in the world of special needs began on November 2, 1993. That is the day that Ryan Monroe Murphy was born in beautiful pre-Katrina Biloxi, Mississippi, my family hometown of over 200 years. I delivered our third (and last!) child by C-section around 5 p.m. that day and after a brief glimpse of my son in the operating room, I didn’t see him again until the next day (which right away made me suspicious). That evening, I was told that he was “a little jaundiced” and needed to be placed under the bilirubin lamp so he would stay in the nursery throughout that night…wasn’t I lucky? I got to get a whole night’s sleep uninterrupted before I began mothering my newborn. Early the next morning, I began asking, “When will you bring me my baby?” I quickly realized that the nurses were putting me off. A nurse finally asked me if my husband was planning on coming to the hospital first thing that morning. That sent up a red flag that something was wrong with the baby. Trying to placate me, the nurse offered that the doctor just wanted to talk to us before they brought us the baby. In an immediate panic, I got on the phone and called my husband to get their as fast as he could. I then called for both of my sisters to get to the hospital pronto. I told them that something was wrong and that they wouldn’t tell me what, but I knew that I needed my support system in place right away.
In short order, my wonderful ob-gyn, Dr. Johnny Mallett, came into my hospital room with at least one nurse (I honestly cannot remember if our pediatrician was there or not) to talk to my husband and I. I could tell by the look on his face that the news would not be good. He told us that there were a few clues noticeable in Ryan that led them to believe that he had Down syndrome. Of course, I had heard of Down syndrome, but in that moment, he could have said that he had Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious disease and it would have made just as much sense to me. I remember asking, “Exactly what does that mean?” I don’t remember the precise answer the kind doctor gave, but I do remember the room dissolving into tears-mine, my husband’s and my doctor’s all joining together into what we had no idea would become our departure into this Down syndrome Journey. It was like the breaking of the champagne bottle on the bow of the ship as we were cast off into a sea that we had not expected to travel. Just like the Sesame Street writer Emily Pearl Kingley described in Welcome to Holland, we had checked into the hospital expecting to checkout in Newborn Territory (which was somewhat familiar, this being our third child), but instead, we were now in the land of Down syndrome. So, after drying the tears (which continued to flow with the telling and retelling of the news to each visitor and family member), we were presented with this sleepy little bundle that seemed oblivious to the world around him, had little interest in feeding and we were told to just “take him home and treat him like any other baby.” ?Huh? ?What? He’s *NOT* just another baby….he has DOWN SYNDROME!” we exclaimed! “No matter, you’ll figure out what to do,” we were told. Oh, is the magician going to appear at home with us to tell us how to care for this special baby? NOT! Oh, I get it. There is a special doctor that we will see who will tell us what to do. NOPE! Oh, okay, then I’ll just get on the Internet and order a book that will tell us all about Down syndrome and THEN we’ll know what we have on our hands. HA! Good luck! So…….where do we go from here? …..to be continued~~~~~~~~~~Sarah Ohr Murphy (Great Grand-daughter of George E. Ohr, the Mad Potter of Biloxi)
