Yesterday I took a quick visit to the dark side. I didn't mean to, but I was sitting here reading a thread on babycenter.com about pointy teeth...and that's what started it. Yes, someone was asking a simple question about their baby with Down syndrome and how his teeth appear to be coming in in a peculiar order as well as especially pointy. Someone else responded with a helpful link that goes on to explain how babies with Down syndrome sometimes have differences with their teeth - sometimes they come in pointy and sometimes not at all. I start feeling that familiar icky feeling in my stomach. A few tears fall. I click on a different thread. This one was an article about Sarah Palin. It was actually a good article, nothing to be sad about there, but then my eyes wandered down to the comments section at the bottom. I start reading one that is labeled "offensive". Why did I keep reading it then? Who knows. It talked about the worthlessness of people with Down syndrome in our society. Nice eh?
So, I feel myself slipping into the dark side. I start thinking... Ugh. I don't want to have a baby with really pointy teeth. Or with an especially small mouth and missing teeth for that matter. And the snowball starts...I do not want to deal with filling out MassHealth disability forms. Nor do I particularly feel like calling my insurance company every day asking them to explain what in the world this newest bill means. Haven't we met our deductible yet? Who knows. I am already getting tired of my dogs barking and then escaping out of the house every single time someone from Early Intervention comes over...which is often. I do not want to stress out about muscle tone and trunk strength; about crossed eyes and failed hearing tests. I do not want to listen to people say words like retard, normal and special.
At this point Dylan starts stirring in his swing. I look over and see that he's trying to wake up. I walk over to him and lift him up out of the swing. His eyes open and he looks at me. I kiss him on the cheek, hug him tight and fresh tears start. These are the good tears though. The happy ones. If having Dylan in my life means dealing with pointy teeth and ugly medical bills, then that's what it means. It is all worth it. Every single thing is worth it.