The Aftermath -

is never what we prepare for.  This time she rebounded unlike any time in her past.  All that's left are a couple of stitches that have yet to dissolve and what will be a scar that will forever remind us of things we are willing to sacrifice - things that are sacred. 

Just this past week I ran into another mom in the bookstore, her son had 'The' scar.  I'd never seen another person with 'The' scar before, or maybe I just never noticed until now.  My oldest son saw him and was excited that this particular little champion had a trach.  The amazing heart of my seven year old and the understanding that it encompasses always amazes and humbles me.  I, on-the-otherhand, found myself doing the unimaginable -staring at her son - she noticed and tucked her little bird under her wing - literally out of harms way.  How many times have I done the same thing?  I should know better. That's when I shook myself back to reality and just said - 'We are going to have that scar'.  And then I turned the stroller to face her. 

Honestly - there we were, two moms with two - to be frank - physically deformed children, where just a few  brief moments before another little girl in the book store - stopped - for several moments and quizzically stared at her son, and then shifted her gaze to my daughter. But together - standing there chatting - this mom and I were normal - if only to each other.

We stepped into a conversation that only two moms like us can have - both somewhat desperate -  both relieved - feeling less self conscious - both clinging to the story that the other had to tell.  A story that uses words like neurosurgeon and the medical jargon he enthralls, drain tubes, trachs, and seizures- IEP's, pulmonologists - cranial facial surgeons- without the recipient looking perplexed or sad. For us these are just ordinary terms for our ordinary lives. 

And as for the other little boy - my son wasn't bothered by the raspy sound of his trach in need of suctioning or the deformities in his face- instead he talked to him like he was just any ordinary 5 year old, because to my son - her son was ordinary.  He understands something that most adults can't imagine in their own lives.  What I would give to truly know the outlook and understandings that he has of his sister's world..... a world that we call normal...... 

and only she knows.....as the perfect place...in the aftermath of life