I think God is trying to tell me that Greg needs to start doing the grocery shopping ;)
Today at Kroger a woman stopped me in the middle of the parking lot and shouted, "How old?" I honestly didn't even know what she was talking about and probably said, "huh??" more times than is socially acceptable. Finally I realized she was talking about the adorable sleeping baby I happened to have in my grocery cart (I didn't steal one, it was Lauren). Once I finally found my brain our conversation went like this:
Me: Four months...
Her: Mumble, mumble, cough, shouting: Well, maybe in another year!
What. The. Heck!! It was the middle of the day, so I can't even blame my usual night time shopping. It has to be me. I attract weirdos. I promise I am passably normal!
Totally different subject:
Yesterday I was chatting with my wonderful mother in law about how awesome Lauren is (as she smiled and babbled at us) and had almost an epiphany of sorts.
How in the world did I ever feel even one drop of sadness over Lauren? She is my miracle, my undeserved reward, my greatest blessing. I feel like a different person than B.L. (before Lauren) simply in the fact that I had no idea my heart could hold so much love. I honestly have a hard time remembering the sadness I felt when we found out Lauren had Down syndrome. I know I was sad, I was devestated. But I can't even remember how that feels anymore. I remember the gut wrenching sobbing I did in my kitchen the moment I was alone. But the visceral feelings are gone.
I'm not quite there yet in regards to Lauren having open heart surgery. I hope one day I'll be able to let go of the pain, bitterness, anger and sadness. The fear. I hope one day I will forget the fear I felt on surgery day. The way the air felt so heavy that my bones might break. I really hope I forget. But for now I try to embrace it and use those memories when I need reminding what a precious gift parenthood is. None of us are guaranteed health- regardless of the number of chromosomes we may possess. That time was the most difficult in my life and I hope that distinction remains. I remember thinking of the saying "God won't give you more than you can handle" and wondering why the hell he was trusting me so much.
But you know what? Lauren will never know that pain. That's my burden to bear. She will never know the extent of my despair. I took great comfort in that during her hospitalization and I still do, to be honest. I can protect her from that. Ryan probably won't even remember the fact that I was at the hospital almost 24/7 for five weeks. He's only two and a half years old. His memories will be of his cute baby sister and the havoc all little sisters cause wreak in their big brothers lives. That is my silver lining. And if you've read my blog before you know I'm all about the silver lining.
And really, who could be sad at all when looking into these eyes?