The Stranger

D, Micah and I decided we needed a night out so tonight we went to dinner at PF Changs (since my cravings for chicken lettuce wraps never end!). Micah had fallen asleep in the car on the way there, so we decided not to wake him and instead haul him in in the infant carrier. While we were sitting near the entrance, waiting for a table, a woman walked in and stopped right next to us. We made eye contact and she leaned forward and asked my permission to look at my baby. I smiled and assured her it would be fine. Thinking she was just curious (as the 3 little girls had been just minutes before who couldn't keep from staring at him), I smiled at her. She spoke very softly as she hesitantly touched his foot. She raised her eyes from my son and asked me his age.

"He's nine months."

"Nine months," she repeated. "I have a baby . . . "

"Oh? You have a baby?" She looked about my age, maybe a few years older. I smiled and looked around - saw her husband and family members, but no baby.

She corrected me. "I had a baby."

Oh. She was speaking in past tense. I felt horrible, unsure of whether I should ask her about it, or just smile and say I'm sorry. I chose the latter and figured she's expound if she felt comfortable. After all, I was a complete stranger.

"He was six months old."

What?? SIX MONTHS?? I don't know why but I'd assumed, by her initial comment, that she'd had a miscarriage. I was totally caught off guard when she said six months and before I could even think about it, I immediately asked "what happened?" As the words flew out of my mouth, I was praying my question wasn't rude or insensitive. I just couldn't imagine having a baby for six months and then losing him.

She spoke even softer and I wasn't able to catch everything she said . . . something about an accident and a hay ride . . . What I did hear, clearly, was that it'd only happened 2 weeks ago!! TWO WEEKS!!?! My eyes welled up with tears and I couldn't hide it. I grabbed her hand, and all I could say was that I was so sorry. I wanted to just hug her and pray for her, but I sat there, unsure and taken aback. She didn't say much after that, just that it takes everything for her to even get out of bed.

I immediately thought of Heather, the loss of her little boy, Sawyer, and her recent post about how to help a friend through such a loss . . . I wracked my brain and all I could remember was her mentioning the importance of using the baby's name and acknowledging her son. So, I asked what his name was. "Toby. His name was Toby."

"Toby," I repeated. I smiled, squeezed her hand and, with that, she was gone. I wanted to cry - for her, for her hurt, for every other mom who'd ever lost her child. I was glad when Micah awoke a few minutes later. I immediately took him out of his infant carrier, hugged him, and soaked in his innocent smile. All through dinner, my mind kept coming back to her. I never even got her name, but I've been praying for since. I don't know her situation, whether she's a woman of Faith or if she's even aware that there's a God who loves her, understands her pain, and wants to embrace her. But I am praying for her and she's left an imprint on my heart.