Random Thoughts

I have finally been able to get out and take a walk, and not just around the block either. The weather has been chilly here in LA, which has made for some gorgeous clear days. I have been trying to get my strength back (not to mention my weight down), and went for a long walk yesterday. I walked up to Mulholland Drive and did a portion of the Runyon Canyon trail. I could not only see the Hollywood sign, then the cluster of downtown buildings, but the ocean and the snow on the mountains. This is the season that I love in Los Angeles. I could care less about the hot summer days when it's so smoggy you can't see anything. I love this weather. It's sweater weather...

On my walk, I saw an old woman walking her dog, meandering down the road ahead of me. I was thinking about a friend of mine who just told me she is pregnant with her second child, and she is 43 (she had her first when she was 41). She told me that she was on bedrest because she had just had the CVS test done, and I had to bite my lip to keep from asking her what she will do if there is a chromosomal issue. As my husband said, it's a personal choice. I'm sure she will just tell me she lost the baby if she decides to terminate for any reason. But as I thought about it, I wondered why it is that women having children in their forties (at least the women I know), seem to be having children who are just fine, and typical. And here we are, 35 when I got pregnant with Owen, a whole EIGHT years younger than she is, and we had a child with Down Syndrome. Eight years. Just think of all the kids I could have in eight years...well, not that many, but still. As I thought about this, and saw the elderly woman walking in front of me, I realized that life was passing me by so swiftly, that I could hardly believe I've already been pregnant with my second child and birthed her. And here is this woman, who I'm sure didn't think she would ever be this old this quickly, and she is out walking her dog, the major portion of her life having been lived already.

I keep thinking about how I loved being pregnant and how I love being a mom. I seriously would consider doing this again, even though I wonder if I should just count my blessings that I have two wonderful children and not have any more. But, there is a part of me that wants another baby, and wants to have another sibling for my two kids. I already miss being pregnant, and the wonderful feelings that came along with it. My mom said some women just love being pregnant, and I never thought I would be one of them, but I guess I am.

My MIL said the other day that a friend of hers had called and asked how the baby was, and she told her the baby was fine. The woman was going on about how great it was that this baby was healthy, and made it sound like Owen wasn't okay because he was born with Down Syndrome. I looked at my MIL and said, "We are really blessed, we have TWO healthy children. Owen's just got a little bit different makeup, that's all." My husband's aunt, who is in town from Norway, looked at me and agreed. "Yes, you are really lucky," she said. I just wonder why my MIL will never just accept Owen for who he is, and let it go. I know she loves him...you can't help but love this kid. When she comes in the door, he runs to her and hugs her leg and pats it, saying "Ohhhh," and then he gives her a kiss. He is the most loving child. I think he has really changed people's perception of a Down Syndrome child.

I hear the baby upstairs. I have to get back up there. One more note: she is a great sleeper. She sleeps for four hour stretches, so if I time it right, I only have to get up once in the night. I had to tell my little brother (I know, a childish dig) since their daughter has been dubbed "screaming Mimi" and doesn't sleep at all during the night. But they keep emphasizing to me when they call how lucky they are that their child is "normal," and it pisses me off. What, and Owen isn't "normal?"