Strawberry Curls and a Grammy's Heart

So...my last post was serious and I called it an exception to the usually more upbeat atmosphere of this blog.  Now, here I am one more time, writing something serious. It has taken me more than four years to be able to write about this because of the emotions involved, but it is a story I promised myself I would write.  This is the story of my hearts connection with a tiny girl with strawberry curls.

Strawberry Curls and a Grammy's Heart

I was standing in the airport when I first saw her. Long strawberry blond hair, curling in soft waves near the bottom. She walked with the quick, steady, rolling swagger of a toddler, and I guessed her to be about 2 and a half years old. I only saw her from the back and she was quickly joined by her mother who took her by the hand. The mother had the same beautiful flowing coppery blond hair, she was tall and slender and moved gracefully. I watched them walk away.


My heart was heavy with recent news we had just received concerning my own soon to be born grand daughter. There were grave concerns that our baby might be afflicted with serious disabilities. Worrisome things had shown up in the tests.


I spent a lot of sleepless nights wondering what her life would look like, how she would survive and thrive, in this often merciless world. The difficulties she might have to face that other children never even have to think about. In the darkest moments of the night, I wondered if she would survive. If we would even have the chance to know her, love her and hold her at all.


I wondered, that day, if we would ever have a chubby little toddler like the one racing about through the waiting people in the airport.


I saw the little girl with the strawberry curls, still looking the other way but running toward the area I was waiting in. Her mom was right with her and as I stood smiling at them, the little girl finally turned around.


On her flawless tiny face, I saw that the masterpiece of her creation had been painted with the unmistakable brush of Downs Syndrome.


My heart felt like it had risen into my mouth and I literally couldn't speak. I was blindsided. Tears filled my eyes, but mercifully did not spill down my cheeks at that moment.


Her mother turned and met my eyes. Her own smile was soft, and filled with pride and enormous love for her baby. Frozen to the spot, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, I felt like an entire conversation passed soundlessly from that mother to me. A lesson I was meant to learn. A picture I needed to see.


The scene moved in slow motion, endless time in the space of a few seconds. I had so much I wanted to say but I couldn't speak, because I knew the tears would fall, and the mother would misinterpret my emotion. In reality, all I wanted to say to the mom was what a gorgeous little girl she had. I couldn't do it then, but I am doing it now.


It is more than four years later and my much loved grand daughter is fine. Turns out the doctors really didn't know anything at all.


I think that those many months I spent in a state, that I can only describe as stomach churning anguish, for my own child and for my grandchild she was carrying, were an awakening to reality. It was an education in acceptance, an understanding that we play the hand we are dealt and a reminder that beauty comes in all forms.


My mind has raced back to that little girl and her mother, many times since then. They won't remember the lady in the airport, but I will always remember them and I knew that I would eventually write this story.


God bless that tiny little girl with the strawberry curls and God bless her mamma too.