I am walking down the main street of town, heading for the local ice cream shop for an afternoon treat. Liam is ahead of me, riding his bike, and Aoife is riding solo in our double stroller, which is still my preferred carriage to push despite the excess of seats.
A woman walks by with her dog, looks at the carriage, and says, "Where's the other baby?"
And it's so poignant, because there is a missing child. I say nothing, and mumble under my breath, If only you knew.
Then, I spend moments of the remainder of the afternoon imagining the shell-shocked look on the woman's face, had I answered with direct eye contact, "She died."
But I would never actually do that.
Would I?
5 comments:
So shocking, such an affront to delicate sensibilities, to the order of the universe, this sort of loss... it makes me want to scream it from the rooftops, strangely.
I might have said that to that woman. Even though my one son died 56 days ago, my name tag for the NICU when I visit his twin brother will always say Baby Boy #2 causing many parents to comment at the washing station how cool it must be to have twins. "Yes," I say, "but one of my twins died on the day he was born." Not to be mean or awkward, but what else can I say?
Really...you've never done that? You never had one of those indignant days when you just didn't care about protecting her feelings and just -- saying it?
Wow - you ARE a good person. I can't count the number of times I've given in.
Um...and did she bother to look at your belly? Some people do buy gear early.
Some people do buy gear early... but seriously, the idea of ME buying gear in advance is almost laughable. I forced myself to buy one outfit and felt sick on the way home. But perhpas some day...
i say that sometimes. i always wonder afterwards if it was worth it, not for the sake of the other person, but because i have to stand there and then say, "IT'S OK." and it's not.
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