I Don’t Read the Books: Tales from a Special Needs Mom

I had the blessing and the curse of experiencing my first pregnancy alongside many good friends. We compared notes all the way through. How big is your bump next to mine? What kinds of foods can’t you eat? Where did you buy your crib? What are you doing in the nursery?   One by one, all the babies came. I’d tell my little bump about all the friends that were waiting for her I’d daydream about my girl with the curly brown hair, swept up in pigtails eventually pretty grown up, with soccer cleats and socks up to her knees. A face full of dirt and a soccer jersey with the number 7 on her back. (No dance class. Not one dance class.) College scholarship?  Maybe. That was going to be my girl.   Then she was born. And in one conversation with a doctor and a nurse …and a few days to wait for the karotype… Down syndrome.   Those dreams were gone. Replaced with nightmaresof therapies and delays, Visions of fighting a school system for 18+ years. Grad school replaced with group home? And that retirement I’d already saved so well for? Better increase those contributions cause now you’re retiring with two.   Welcome to motherhood.   The nurse came in to check on me and found my husband and I curled up on the little bed in...

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