Lucky

Whenever I talk with someone who has lost a child, I remember how lucky I am to have my living, breathing, smiling, laughing child and that each day with him is a gift. It is a reminder that even when he's keeping me up at night drumming (yes, 4:30AM drumming!) or blowing his nose on my pantleg when I'm getting ready for work, those are little things, and there are people who would give anything to have the problem of sleeplessness or cleaning up bodily fluids rather than the problem of empty arms.

I don't think I have those moments of feeling sorry for myself or for our family about the whole down syndrome issue very often anymore. Initially, I did have those feelings, and the "why me? why us?" kinds of questions. I think this has receded and especially so the more that I stay in the moment with my child and what he is doing and accomplishing and the less that I compare him to others. But if I ever start to go back to that kind of a place, please just slap me and remind me how lucky I am. I have my child.