Ugh, that look.

I know a lot of moms get it.  Probably every mother of a child with special needs.  Especially the moms of kids who have special needs that aren't immediately obvious.  I mean, look, if Lucy had to carry around an oxygen tank people would know how to arrange their faces, but she looks completely normal except for one teeny-tiny thing.

She's teeny-tiny. 

And I mean really teeny-tiny.  She is 18 months old and mostly wears 12-month-old clothes.  She can shock a granny in the grocery store with how well she talks -- because nobody expects a 1-year-old to say "turtle" and "Charlie" and "biscuit."  Well-meaning assistants in our favorite toy store suggest toys she's waaay to advanced for.  And when, inevitably, a stranger comes up to me and says, "Oh, she's adorable! How old is she?" I have to admit, I do sometimes think about lying.

But I don't.  I tell the truth.  I tell them that she is 18 months old.  And then I get that look. 

They nearly always look shocked.  And then they try to cover it up.  Some of them start talking about something else. 

Some of them tell me that it's okay, that they knew a kid who suddenly GREW.  Like I asked, or intimated that I was worried.  Asshats. 

Some of them just find a way to walk away.  And tsk as soon as they think I'm out of earshot.  I HEAR YOU OLD LADIES!!!!

I figured out today that I'm carrying around a lot of anger and resentment because of all of this judgment.  I mean, I thought I had been shrugging it all off, because I can't expect everybody to just KNOW.  And it really takes 3-4 sentences to get to it:  "Lucy has intractible epilepsy.  It doesn't respond to most medications, so she has to take a medication that has an unfortunate side effect -- anorexia.  No, there really isn't anything else.  Yes, we are monitoring her weight and growth with a doctor."

But today broke me down.  We took Lucy in for her 18-month checkup.  As she is now too long for her 12-month pants, I diaper-pinned 18-month pants to her. 

The nurse came in and introduced herself and said, "So we're seeing Miss Lucy for her 15-month checkup, right?"

And I said, "No, 18 month."

And she looked at Lucy.  And then SHE GAVE ME THAT LOOK.

I know she didn't mean to.  She recovered fast.  I held it together until she left. 

But I was pretty upset, and it is awful to have this kind of judgment rain down on me.  As though I'm in some way trying to hurt my kid.  As though I did something to hurt her on purpose, or by neglecting her, or simply because I'm not smart enough to know.