I know her (Part 2)

“I knew her. I didn’t actually know her, know her, but the little girl who must have been about 5 or 6 was very familiar to me. She looked at me with curious eyes, I must have seemed strange even for a stranger, staring so intently into her open face. My heart hammered from the combination of sudden adrenaline and the caffeine I had just consumed. I wanted so badly to go over to the father standing there with a toddler in the Wal-Mart shopping cart and another older girl walking alongside. The one I was looking at was strapped in the seat, the cool new shopping carts that also have 2 seats with seat belts for the older kids that get tired. She wanted to walk too but her father told her not now. Her wide eyes with dark circles, pixie nose, the teeth with braces that no other child would have that young and full, full lips I knew. She didn’t look like her siblings. Her face was just a little different, but special in the way I knew and my heart recognized”

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I love part two’s to stories. Usually it’s the good part, the conclusion, the climax… it’s the part that ties everything together in a neat package.

When I wrote part one I didn’t know that there would be a part two to write about.

Life is painful, life is divine. Life is all about those little choices we make, when looking like a complete moron is better than being silent sometimes. When being the fool who doesn’t stay silent is the better option.

I went to a McDonald’s the other day, it was rainy and I needed a place with an indoor play area to let Sum work off some of that endless toddler energy. He felt fine but had a horrible sounding cough so I was a little worried that I would get dirty looks from other patrons, you know, the kind I usually give parents who bring out their child with the horrible sounding cough… Usually the place gets crowded on days like that, but that day we were the only ones in the whole play yard. As we were sitting in there eating, two men with a little girl came in and sat at the table next to us. I was kind of annoyed, I’m an introvert and I wasn’t wanting to make small talk with strangers.

I intentionally sat with my back to them and busied myself with feeding Sum and reading e-mail on my phone. Sum, the mega extrovert was busy smiling at the table behind me and starting yelling “HI!” at the top of his lungs. I finally turned and looked to make the obligatory apologetic smile and my heart started pounding. I looked past the quietly talking men right into the large, starburst eyes of a widely smiling little girl.

I recognized the little girl the same way I had with one at Wal-Mart. I knew she had to be about 6, she had the facial characteristics I had memorized from my endless research, coping with my own loss. I stared for a second too long then turned back around quickly, racked with the pain and loss all over again. I wanted to talk, to ask, to connect. But, like I said in my other post, how do you ask a parent if their child has a genetic disorder? Williams isn’t common, it’s pretty rare. Most cases are diagnosed when the kids are older, what if the parents didn’t know? My mind ran through many scenarios, some good, some bad. I sweated and my adrenaline raced.

I remembered how devastated I was the last time when I chickened out. I considered this. I considered the fact it was 2 men and not an overly emotional mom… I worded it carefully, very carefully, then panicked over their imagined response.

Summit happily ate a hash brown, unaware of the tornado inside of me. I looked at the girl again. What if I was wrong? My heart knew I was right, but my head loudly doubted me, I am no genetic specialist.

My heart won. They did know, they had found out recently. I almost started crying right then, my emotions were overwhelming. We exchanged information, the girls mom had been wanting to connect with other WS moms in the area and hadn’t had any luck.

Sometimes looking like a fool is the best decision.