Little Evelyn was born yesterday around 8:00am. Her birth went much more smoothly than Henry's -- I think the records that the hospital had from Henry's birth (and what they did wrong) stood out so the staff took a little more care and caution this time.
But this beautiful little girl is currently napping across my stomach as I type on the laptop. And I have to admit that, knowing she has the full mutation of FXS, I've caught myself looking for telltale signs since yesterday morning.
I also feel it's horribly unfair to her, but I can't seem to help it. I look at her palate when she cries or yawns, I look at her ears. Her ears aren't as prominent as Henry's, and neither of them have the elongated face that's characteristic of FXS.
But when I do realize what I'm doing, I stop. I can't condemn this little girl into a predetermined path just because I know too much for my own good. Just as I can't predict how Henry's life will turn out, I can't shoehorn Evie into an overly cautious path just because of the medical information that floats through my head.
Just as I'm quick to criticize medical professionals for relying on statistics too much to determine a course of action or inaction, I admonish myself for doing the same to this little girl who's barely two days old.
I then remember to hang back and put away the technical manual on babies. I give her a smile and just enjoy the presence of this little squeaky thing with the cutest cry that sounds like a baby panda.
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