|Just a few minutes old.|
If you're the mother sitting on the park bench watching children toddling around a playground, climbing steps, sliding down slides, and running to their parent(s) when they fall (as they inevitably do), arms stretched out, demanding the comfort only they can offer. The whole time you're sitting with your own child in a stroller or on you lap...waiting, wondering, and anxious. I am currently there with you. Feeling those tiny pin pricks in my heart. Dreaming of the "someday" yet to come and dreading the question I always seem to ask the universe, "When will it be her turn?" Deafening silence is the universes reply because there is no answer.
|At the park.|
I have yet to master the art of hiding this particular sadness from those around me. I try to smile, but I know it never fully reaches my eyes. There is no twinkle. An air of sadness lingers over me. It is during those moments of uncertainty that I hug Rae just a little too tightly. I seek comfort in looking at the curls of her hair and brushing them from her eyes because then I don't have the strength to look at the person/friend sitting beside me. If I feel really uncomfortable, I attempt to dodge any potential discussion by commenting on how well their child is _______ (insert random milestone) or I start talking about something completely unrelated. I'm sure they all see through these defense mechanisms I have developed. Just call me Mrs. Cellophane.
|Slow & Steady...|
As for me...one day I will be one of you. I will no longer be sitting on the bench waiting my turn. I just hope I always remember to be sensitive to those that find themselves in a similar situation that I now find myself...living in Amsterdam and trying to find my way out of the airport.