Decorating Jack's nursery took me back to when I'd decorated nurseries in our first home. First for My Girlie, and then the new Big Girl Room across the hall for her while I redecorated the nursery for The Middle. I never in a million years thought I'd be decorating another nursery.
This is a picture of my Mother's rocking chair. It was in each of The Little's nurseries, and it is draped with a blanket I'd cross stitched years before we were expecting The Girlie. That blanket has also been in each of their nurseries.
The beautiful loaner crib from Auntie Bits!
While we measured and marked and hammered I described for The Littles how much fun it had been decorating each of their nurseries.
Note the teddy bears The Girlie has placed in the bouncer and the car seat!
When we were finished they each brought some of the treasures from their babyhood to share with Jack. Beloved books, dog eared bunnies and bears, and even a few baby toys I had no idea they'd pilfered from the donation pile. It was a fun time and when we were finished, the shelves and cubes were filled with treasures from The Littles to their New Little Brother.
This particular view is of Jack's mirrored closet doors and in it's reflection is the changing table and a picture of "Fireworks Tonight" that I won at the NRA banquet when The Middle was just tiny.
I am 32 weeks along today. So I started actually packing the diaper bag and putting things I'd need into a small suitcase loaned to us by Grandma Emmie. The invitations for our baby shower will go out tomorrow. The Incredible Miss S will be out of town and Grandma Emmie will have to work that day, so that has me sad.
At my NST this past Friday I saw a little boy with his mother, also pregnant and waiting to be seen. The little boy was in his stroller looking very dull and uninterested in any thing. He looked to be about two years old. He had no toys. He didn't look around. He showed no interest in the television on a cartoon channel. He didn't wiggle or squirm to get out in all the time I'd sat there watching him. Occasionally he looked at his mother. Once he made a loud grunting cry and the mother produced a small bag of cheerios. He cried louder and the mother produced a bottle, and popped it into his mouth. So she sat there holding a bottle in his mouth while he sat in his stroller. He stared off at nothing in the empty air and sucked his bottle, never once attempting to hold it for himself. I'd seen him move when he cried, putting his fists to his eyes, and kicking his feet, so clearly he could move. But he had no interest in holding his bottle. His face was dirty, as were his hands. And his facial features were quite clearly those of a child with Down syndrome. Except for the time he cried for his bottle, his mother gave him no notice. None. Even a mother who's holding a sleeping child will look down at her little one now and then, maybe stroke a brow or swipe away a wayward lock of hair. Not this mother.
I've spent hours thinking about this. I'd first noticed the little boy when his mother was in line in front of me waiting to check in, then saw them again minutes later in the waiting room. Same dull blank look. I recalled that every medical site I'd gone to said that all children with Down syndrome have mental retardation. Every site said it ranged from severe to mild/moderate. Very few sites even suggested that it could be, upon very rare occasions, if you closed one eye and squinted with the other one, when the moon is 3/4s full, minimal. Nope. No hope there. After worrying about this for hours I finally decided that this little boy was dull because he'd had no stimulation. I'd already looked into the Regional Center for Our Baby. Maybe that mother had not. Maybe that mother expected nothing from him. Maybe that mother had not been offered services for him. Or maybe he was severely retarded. Or maybe she was too deflated to engage him. Or maybe there was something else besides Down syndrome. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I'd never know. I did know that no matter how mentally retarded Our Baby may be, I would still cuddle him, still look at him while he sits in his stroller, still touch his cheek, still wash his face, and still give him some baby toys in case he wanted to at least look at them. I don't know the circumstances of that little boys life, but I know that I can't shake this deep sadness for his blank