Thursday, July 9, 2009
My first waking thought this morning was, "I'm having a baby with Down syndrome." I didn't want to get out of my safe, secure bed. The shock and mock bravery of the day before, the good face I'd put on for The Oldest and others had slid off during the night. It might be hiding under my bed. I might be able to find it. I might be able to glue it back on. Might need some staples. If only I could be bothered to try. That would require getting out of my bed. I lay there for a few minutes, rolling in my misery, and then I get up and start our day. There are announcements to modify. There is a nursery for a special little baby to plan. There are tiny little blue things to be bought. And later in the day, there is The Dear Daddy to tell. Crap!