Coming to Terms

Today, alongside many days like today, actually, if I'm being honest, there isn't a week that goes by where at least one day doesn't end with an encounter much like today - A day where my daughter and I meet someone like you.  You are the one I dread most in this world.  Let me describe this person, you - especially now that you have dissected my daughter.  There are some people not aware of their own callousness or ignorance, or level of voice for that matter.  Days like today, I get the satisfaction of someone, like you, standing within 3 feet of my daughter, in a situation where we must endure the staring and the mindless nonsense of how sorry "they" feel for "those" people - like Ivey.  They never catch onto body language, or short responses.  They, like you, completely miss my refusal to acknowledge their presence, except for my chosen short, yet, somewhat polite answers to their ridiculous questions.  Only then do I look them directly in the eye, like I did you, and answer with the most honest and uncomfortable responses.

Seriously.  Go away.

But they don't.  They stand.  Stare.

Then comes - The Look - the grimace.
Is that a look of disgust or revolt?
I'm sorry it is so hard for me to distinguish between the two.

Seriously leave.  Go away.

But you don't.  You stand.  Grimace more, your face distorted.

Thank God she can't see you.  I can.  She hears you.  But, she knows my words, my heart - You are useless background chatter to her.  She is MY beautiful girl.

Can you not tell that I am wishing you away?  Ignoring you to the best of my ability?  Why do I feel I still need to project calm and be polite to you?  I make sure she hears me tell her how beautiful she is, how much she is loved.  No stone was left unturned when she was made.  She is whole.  She is perfect.

Just go away.

Yes, there was a moment in time that I had to come to terms with Ivey's - what was it you said in your moment of politically correct politeness - "Birth Defect".  Yes, I know what you see.  But you are shallow.  I see a warrior who is strong.  My child, while different, is kind.  She is kind because I instill in her and her brothers to accept others, no matter how different.  I see my daughter.  Part me.  Part her father.  She is whole.

Exactly when did your curiosity become an acceptable platform for callous staring, literally standing over us as we sit, with completely disrespectful commentary?  How dare you ask me such personal questions in front of my daughter.  How dare you feel sorry for her.  For me.

Why are you still standing there?
Go.
Away.

I have come to terms with many things over the past 10 years.  Many.

For those who love us or those who want to know us, I have NEVER had a problem with questions.  I try to be an open book.  Transparent.  I answer questions that lead to understanding, trying desperately to open doors for her.  In the process, it allows others in, eventually developing relationships.  No matter how hard some questions sometimes are, I explain. I point out her scars. Do you know the levels of hell I am willing to go through so that others will see ALL of her?  So they see her potential?  So they see less of a disability?

But for those like you, I hide her.  Protect her.  Wish you away.  I can see you from a mile away.  You are the one who stands out in a crowd.  No child should ever have to endure your stare or your thoughts that you actually verbalize, in her presence.  No mother should either.

I will never come to terms with the people in the world, like you, who feel it your duty to tell me, her mother, how pitiful my daughter is - or how sorry you feel for her.  No.  I pity you.  I seriously do. You are missing an absolute miracle on this Earth, right in front of you.  She just didn't come in the perfect package.  She came with a package that makes you look beyond shallow skin deep.  She makes you look inside, way deep down inside.  She made your true colors shine.  You said you would pray for her.  Please don't.  Say a little prayer for your own heart.  You need it more.

Please forgive me if I have ever made another human being feel so so less than -