fallow fears

Things will be better when I have my baby. They have to be.

I saw a girl barrista in the coffee shop this morning. Fuschia hair, tats all over her arms, retro-makeup. She was so pretty and I felt myself ready to cry. Is my own girl baby just going to be the token person with a disability working at a coffee shop? Hmm?

No. She won't. She can't. I won't let it happen.

Not that that's wrong or bad. I just don't want her being a token. You know?

I found myself struggling not to cry later, as I sat in the ODEP's Listening Tour and heard speakers from East Bay Innovations and the ARC talk about employment stats of those with developmental disabilities (14% employed, total, vs' the 14% unemployment rate for the general population) and barriers to employment that those with developmental disabilities face.

I want her to be okay, this baby of mine. And I'm still so very scared of all the unknowns. I feel her kick (and boy is she ever a kicker!) and I'm reassured - a baby that kicks this hard and this much is fine. It's when she's not moving that my fears mount, pile up.

I'm so glad she moves a lot.

I'm still scared.

The door to my office is shut and I'm trying not to cry more.
\