When your child asks, what do you say?
“You’re only talking about the bees ‘cause the bird stuff is too cute?
It’s like going potty, but not really? The hospital?”
“You did what? And I come out of…….
STOP! STOP TALKING MOMMY!!!!!!!!”
I have down syndrome and this is awareness month
Here I am, being selfish and talking about me, me, me.
Pretty big stuff is going on this month.
I’ve got to make some calls. October is going to be busy.
First things first:
Get some stamps.
Order some pizza.
Eat American cheese!
You’re kidding right? What do you mean this is the last day “this week”?
When is this school thing going to end?
Next thing you know……You’re going to tell me I have to go until I’m like twenty!
UHHHHH…..Why aren’t you laughing?
Mom is taking over today. I told you she would from time to time.. She said I needed to skedaddle, so I’ll do my best. “La, la, la….I’m not listening.
For those of you who follow or read me elsewhere, this will be old news. Sorry about that! For those of you who are hearing this for the first time……stay where you are.
My friend (Stirling Gardner) created a site: An Open Apology. Anyone is welcome to write and submit an apology letter, anonymously or not. It doesn’t matter who the recipient is, what you’re sorry for, or what tone you write in. It just matters that you mean it.
HERE IS MY SUBMISSION (apology to Justice):
Although these words will never meet your ears, I’m apologizing anyway. You are and will always be protected by what I felt that day, in that moment. After all, I’m a mother. I’m your mother. It’s my job to protect you.
Admitting something I’m deeply ashamed of isn’t easy. Even your father doesn’t know this. How could I tell him? He didn’t share my feeling. He didn’t share my fear. I didn’t want to look less in his eyes or risk losing a piece of his heart. But, this isn’t about him. It’s about you and me.
During my pregnancy, nothing was out of the ordinary. Although it had been eight years since your sister was born, it was like riding a bike. The only difference: I was deemed to be “high risk” because of my “advanced maternal age”. At 40, I was five-years deep into the label. I didn’t mind. I felt great.
Besides the standard “what sex is your baby” ultrasound, (I’m sorry my heart sank a bit when they told me you were a boy. Your sister has proven that raising one girl is more than I can handle.) I was advised to get a genetic one due to my ancientness.
TO VIEW THE REST, GO TO: Mom Apologizes to Son with Down Syndrome