once you've heard their story

While waiting for my boys to finish their swimming lesson, my youngest little ones and I were sitting and snacking next to a group of moms discussing a child who attends the same school as their own children.  She was a child they all knew about.

"She throws fits all the time!"

"I feel sorry for her teachers!"

"At the assembly she was crawling up the side of the bleachers!"

"She is so disruptive!"

"I do not want her in [my kid's] class!"

"Yah, I think she's been in foster care or something."

And as I sat there listening, my breathing started to get heavier.  Tears pooled in my eyes that spilled over and down my cheeks.  I hoped that my sunglasses were hiding the emotions I was battling as their words cut deeply... because it became personal.  They could have been describing my little girl.

My little girl, who has been removed from Bible study, kicked out of gymnastics classes and who has at least a dozen monstrous tantrums a day.  My little girl who despises authority, rebels against structure, is sensitive to loud noise, freaks out completely if she needs to be confined to even a large area (Dr. office, baseball games).  My little girl who obsesses about having food available at all times and struggles with anxiety.  My little girl who seems to be missing any sort of fear factor or stranger danger and will run off anywhere, talk to anyone and get herself in the most frightening predicaments.

My little girl, whose life began with neglect and starvation; not being held, sung to or cuddled; and whose little brain was forced to develop early on and become set in "survival mode".

My little girl, who exhausts me, frustrates me, drives me to my knees, scares me, challenges me to the core in my ability to mother.  My little girl, who invites judgmental glances, gawking stares and bad reports.

My little girl ... whom I love with all my heart.

What I would give to remove the challenges she faces due to genetic inheritance and early trauma in her little life.

I wondered if these mamas ever thought about the mother trying her best to love and raise this little girl they were so exasperated by.  If they'd ever sought to reach out to either the child or her mama with support or to offer encouragement.  And maybe, just maybe, if they took the time to get to know her and hear her story, their hearts would soften a bit and compassion rather than judgement would be offered instead.

"There isn't anyone you couldn't love once you've heard their story."  

Mary Lou Kownacki