the girl with a waist long pony tail

Judah was not really into the kids, swings or slides at the park today. So, he played putting sand into an empty bucket, dumping it out and filling it again. I sat there watching him wishing he would make a friend.

Soon after, a little girl, a few years older than Judah, with a waist long pony tail, came and sat next to him and began to play with the sand, too.  You have no idea the joy I felt when I saw his little face light up. He looked at her like he was thinking, "Hey! You like this sand, too?!" My joy was complete in that moment. His happiness was easily my happiness.

And just that fast she was up and running to the swings, pony tail following behind her.

His face dropped and a confused look washed over his little face.
I looked on as he watched her running away wondering what he was thinking. Did I just witness the first time he felt rejection?  I kept thinking, "He's really fun, I promise. Come back. Give him a chance."

Then, I cried right there in the sand.

As a mom, I knew days like this would come. I knew not everyone would see in Judah what I see in him, but I didn't prepare myself for the hurt I would feel for him. Honestly, he didn't dwell on it and went right back to playing by himself without much thought, but I knew. I knew what he felt for that split second and it was enough to break my heart.

It might be because of the pregnancy hormones, or that I was hungry and tired, but I cried and dripped mascara down my cheeks for quite a while as he played. The realization that this little man I helped bring into the world, whose personality and character I am helping to form, may not be liked, wanted, accepted, or loved by others, no matter how wonderful I think he is.

I cried because right now I, to some extent, have an influence in the way people see him. They ask if he's a good eater, sleeper, cranky, happy, fussy, talking, walking, etc. They give me a chance to explain who he is. They give me a chance to dote on all of his great attributes. I won't get that chance for much longer. Right now, people say, "that's a handsome boy you have there", "his little voice is so sweet", "look how cute he is when he runs". Pretty soon that will all stop and they will just take him at face value like any other kid. I don't want that day to come.

It's rough and not an easy thing to accept.
It is so hard being a parent. Really, really hard.

The one happy note that I did have in my epiphany is that no one will ever love him as much as Drew and I do, and everyday we can be the only two humans in his life that allow him to feel love, joy and acceptance in a place he can call "safe". No one else can do that for him like we can. No other human and that is somewhat comforting.

I say that as a I prepare for a lifetime of dripping mascara, aching hearts, and girls with waist long pony tails.