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.

I wonder if that’s really just because she’s really cute.  abbyjake2015

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?