Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [54]
A woman sitting next to us noticed the rings on my finger. She was there with her two children, an infant and a girl about eight years old. “Those are lovely,” she said, then cast her gaze in Anya’s direction. “Why isn’t your wife wearing them?” When I gave her the truthful answer, she couldn’t deal with it; overwhelmed, she left her daughter in charge of the baby and fled the waiting room in tears.
The varied reactions I got from total strangers were something of a surprise, but I suppose my answers to their questions were equally surprising. No matter what the situation that brought forth my story, I found that mothers always had the most extreme response, maybe because they could see their partners in my situation, and that scared the shit out of them.
I met one mother in a coffee shop. Maddy and I were there hanging out with Deb when Windy approached us. Looking at Deb, she asked, “How old is your baby?”
“Three months,” Deb responded.
“She looks so small.”
“Well, she was born seven weeks early.”
“Was it a tough pregnancy?”
“Yes, five weeks of bed rest.”
“Wow. Good luck to you,” Windy said to Deb, as she headed toward the exit.
I was a bit dumbfounded. Dealing with strangers who assumed that I was not Maddy’s primary caregiver was one thing; leaving them with the impression that Deb was her mother was quite another. It was obvious that Deb didn’t want to discuss the circumstances that led her to be the woman in Madeline’s life, but hearing her speak as if she was the one who had given birth to Madeline really hit a nerve. I couldn’t believe she didn’t at least hint at what had actually happened.
When I thought about it, though, I understood why Deb had responded that way. My wife was dead, the person who had been my compass for the past twelve years, and I had my own feelings about that. But Deb had lost her sister, whom she had loved and been so close with for her entire life. I addressed the grief in my way, and Deb in hers. There was no right or wrong way to mourn—this much I knew. But in that moment, Deb’s handling of the questions had been unbearable for me.
I felt very upset and more than a little angry, but I wasn’t about to lecture Deb on how to deal with her sister’s death. I got up from my chair, grabbed Madeline from her car seat and said, “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be right back.”
I went out the door and took a left, heading for nothing in particular, just hoping to clear my head. About a quarter of a block down the street, I noticed a kid’s clothing store and went inside. I hadn’t intended on doing any shopping until I saw the place, but I figured I might as well pick up a few things for Madeline while I was trying to distract myself. I spent a few minutes browsing a rack near the front of the store, choosing a pink onesie with a green cartoon character on the front. As I made my way toward the register, I bumped into Windy and her daughter.
“Hi,” I said.
“Oh. Hello.”
“Just so you know, you didn’t get the full story in the coffee shop,” I abruptly told her. For the first time I wanted to tell a complete stranger everything, up front and without prompting. This felt different.
For the next fifteen minutes, Windy held her daughter tight as I shared with her that my seemingly picture-perfect family was not what she had been led to believe. When I finished, she wiped the tears from her eyes and reached into her purse for a pen and paper. She wrote down all of my information and promised to get in touch so we could catch up again soon.
Within a few days I heard from her, and she told me that she belonged to an online parenting group. It had started out as a resource for moms who were breast-feeding, but it had evolved into much more, with discussions about everything from what kind of stroller to buy to where to go on a play date. She said it had a huge membership