AN ENCOUNTER

Something happened the last day we were in London last week. It keeps floating around in my brain. I think maybe if I write it down here it will go away and park itself where it belongs in my mind, and stay there.

On that last day we had a whole morning to kill. Our hotel was near a shopping centre at Victoria Station. I suggested to Bill that we go there to look for leg warmers. We hadn't been that successful in finding them up to this point.

By the time we got there though, my back was hurting to the point where walking around was now totally unappealing. So he sent me up to the food court and he said he would go around searching. So up I went, bought a coffee, and started to look for an unoccupied table. There wasn't one. So, I looked for an empty chair at an occupied table that maybe someone wouldn't mind my sitting at. I never do that, not sure why but I don't. As I searched around a young woman sitting alone at a table for two caught my eye. She was sitting before a pushed away half eaten breakfast, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea and her face was a study in total grief. Her whole aura emanated sadness and despair. I approached her and asked if she minded if I sat down with her. She answered yes, with more reluctance than desire. I thanked her and sat down.

It was uncomfortable, awkward. Neither of us said anything for a moment. To help get past this part of the "sharing a table with a stranger" I quickly and efficiently "accidently" spilled a wee part of my coffee. Quick as wink, acting more out of instinct than a favour, she grabbed her breakfast napkins and started mopping. I was apologizing profusely and she was acting as a hostess, cleaning and reassuring. She took the mess including the detritus from her meal to the garbage, and returned to her table and tea and me. I thanked her and the awkward moment eased.

She asked where I was from, probably noticing my accent. I told her. I asked if she was Christmas shopping. She said no, and it all slid into silence. Finally I leaned forward and asked if she was alright. She continued to look into her tea. I said that if she wanted to talk, I would be a good one to talk to. She doesn't know me, I don't know her and I was leaving that afternoon, never to be seen again by her. But...if she preferred not to, that was fine too.

She looked up and her eyes had filled with tears. As they slowly slid down her cheeks she told me she had lost a baby yesterday. Oh My God!! What do you say to that? So I leaned in and just simply said, "Tell me. From the beginning." And she did. About halfway through her story I saw Bill approaching, and I silently signaled to him to go away. Having been married forever, he understood what was happening, bless his heart.

She told me about her little boy of three at home. She told me about a loving and wonderful husband. She told me about wanting another baby and getting pregnant so easily. She told me about the feeling she had the other day. The feeling that something wasn't right. She told me how she went to the Doctor and found out she was right. Things were not okay. She told me about her trip to the hospital the day before, removing all evidence she ever was pregnant. She told about her profound and devastating grief, her lost little baby. What does one respond with to that?

When she finished she actually apologized to me for pouring out this whole sad story to me whilst I am on holiday. I couldn't believe it!! So I told her the only thing I knew.

I told her that when my youngest was 18 months, I accidentally became pregnant. I wasn't ready for that but we quickly became adjusted then ecstatic. We prepared the nursery, bought some baby stuff, picked out names, told the family and explained it to a very dense one and a half year old. I told her how at sixteen weeks, due to my age, I went in for my amniocentesis to check for genetic problems. I told her how the technician doing the preparatory ultra sound rushed out and came back in with a battalion of doctors and nurses. I told her how after a few more minutes of searching sliding on my tummy, the doctor kindly told me the baby was no longer living, in fact had died around 12 weeks.

But...I went on to tell her that I immediately started trying to become pregnant again, and within two months I was. I told her how months later they handed me my youngest son, a son I love more than anything in the world (well as much as my other three!!). I told her that if not for losing that "Wee One in the Middle" as we named him/her, I would not have Monte. And that is unthinkable. So...I suggested she go home and start trying for the one she is supposed to have and to just never forget about the "Wee One in the Middle."

She smiled a little and leaned forward and put a hand over mine. All she said was thank you, squeezed my hand, smiled again and got up and left. I continued to just sit there completely in another world when I suddenly heard "Hey!! I found them!" And there was Bill, swinging a bag of leg warmers in the air.