Reminders

There is a look that I think many parents who have children with disabilities notice when they are out and about. It isn't one of disgust or intrigue. It is one of remembrance. I have seen this look often throughout my years mothering Waverly & Oliver. It is first identified by a head tilt. Then a slow smile begins to develop and the eyes are the final clue. You are able to almost see the memory of a loved one reflected back.

It took me quite a while to recognize this look. I was a protective mom, trying to block the stares or reposition the kids when I noticed too much interest. I remember older women approach us and speak  of their loved ones. At times the stories were filled with the pain of how things used to be. Children sent away to hospital wards or homes with staff who could care for their special needs.

To be honest, their stories were at times disruptive. I just wanted to be "normal" and then I found myself in Costco consoling a weeping lady. Or sitting at Silver Diner and speaking with a retired gentleman who couldn't get over Waverly's resemblance to someone he loved dearly.

I am now one of the head tilters. I spot a wheelchair and have to stop myself from bolting over to aggressively make contact. The sound of a feeding pump is music. Your anxiety ridden child is a beautiful reminder of what was. And what I wish could still be. I try to contain my desire to shout that I am a member of the club. I get it. I see you. My eyes reflect so much love through my tears.