We went to see Lindsay's eye doctor today. Don't get me wrong, he seems very smart and interested in my girls - he even gave Lauren an eye test today "just because". He has a very nice office with newish toys and a pleasant staff, but I hate being there. Hate it. I would rather be anywhere else including the pediatric dentist with sad eyed kids in the waiting room.
Lauren sat with her coloring book, and Lindsay played on my lap. A little Asian girl, probably around 6, was playing behind us. She smiled a huge smile at Lindsay. Her facial features were askew and assymetrical. She spoke few words.
Her mom sat across from me. She eyed Lindsay and asked how old, and tearfully explained she'd spent a very long time trying to have children before they adopted the little girl. "Thirty thousand dollars for damaged goods," she said flatly.
I tried to manage a smile to acknowledge that she was joking.
"She doesn't have any vision problems? Just that little birth mark?"
I feel like an asshole. "Right. The hemangioma." I don't want to explain how it broke my heart when the 3-year-olds at daycare pointed and said "Baby has a bloody eye" because really, we all just want our children to be...well, normal isn't the right word...we want them to be extraordinary.
I just can't imagine. And every parent I see there has a similar story. So when the doc said, "See you in 3 months, Mrs Stoll!" I felt that familiar dread creep in.