Full disclosure: I wrote this in December 2010, when my firstborn was still new. (Except for the picture – that’s new!) It feels appropriate to post today, in honor of Down syndrome awareness month. Enjoy.
I wonder if, in like 100 years, they’ll discover that there’s a real reason babies get Down syndrome. And that reason will be something random like because the mom used a blow dryer while she was pregnant or because she failed her chemistry mid-term in high school. Because I did both of those.
Pretty sure I’m not living until I’m 130 so at least I won’t die with that guilt.
Sometimes I wonder, too, if karma is really real. And if I did something really good to get the Abster. Cause sometimes I can be kind of a bitch spirited and I’ve pretty much been like that for my entire life. So karma must be busted because I won the awesome baby jackpot on my first try.
I wonder what it is like to have a baby that doesn’t have special needs. I wonder if people care about those babies as much. Cause mine gets a lot of attention.
The other day, we introduced her to the piano. She seemed to get that banging on the keys is what made the noise came out. I wonder if she’ll play for Keith Lockhart someday.
I wonder if she is just starting off looking like daddy but will grow into looking like mommy.
I wonder what she dreams about.
Ever since Thursday, I’ve wondered if my boss’ boss knows my name.
I wonder if she got it because I had a terrible haircut in high school. Or because of that car accident I got in on the highway in 2006. Or because I changed my nail polish too many times while we were trying to get pregnant. Or because I use a laptop.
Is it because, like so many other kids, I made fun of that kid on that tv show in the 80s? Or because a group of my friends and I made fun of a kid in high school? ….even though we had nothing against him other than he was an easy target.
Will Abby be the easy target?
I wonder what kind of job she’ll have when she’s my age.
Sometimes I wonder what I will tell her the day the dog dies. What about when she asks about Santa? Or how she came to be?
What do I tell her when she wants me to bring her to that damn butterfly place in Deerfield that I hate?