"Have Some Patience!"

I know we've all been there.

We want to get in and get out of the store. We have a schedule to stick to, or we're running late, or we just like to move move move along.

I get it. I do.

But I also know we've all realized at some point or another that not everyone moves at the pace we do.

I happen to be a slow{er} walker. The Husband has slowed down his stride tremendously over the years so he can walk hand in hand with me. My Mom used to allot more time in her day when it was Take Your Daughter To Work Day at the Pentagon because I made (and still make) snails look like speed walkers.

And then when I'm pregnant? Slow is my middle name.

But after the enormous stress from the past week, both mental, emotional and physical, on top of moving to the new house and moving a little more than I probably should be, I'm moving at the pace of molasses.

And my body hurts. A lot.

But on Saturday, M and I went to Costco to pick up a few things. We had just paid and were walking towards the exit. I guess I wasn't walking fast enough because as a woman walked by me, she said rather loudly, "Jesus Christ!!!" in total exasperation and gave me the most disgusted look, while looking me up and down.

I immediately had tears in my eyes and mustered up the energy to say back, through a cracked voice, "Have some patience!"

I then, near the Costco food court, started crying. Tears streaming down my face because I was just yelled at for moving too slowly when my body is still reeling in every way from the passing of my second daughter.

M, my purely innocent, happy, sweet M, looked at me and said, "Momma, are you crying because that lady yelled at you? Don't cry! I love you!!" and extended her arms out to give me a big hug.

I, of course, hugged my wonderful daughter and felt better.

But I wonder: if I was still visibly pregnant (will that ever not hurt to say?!) would my slow pace have been more acceptable? Would the mean lady still have made her rude comment? And, why can't a person just walk a little slower? Why do I have to walk at that woman's pace in order to escape her wrath and not receive a look of disgust and anger?

There's a quote I read a long time ago, and for me, it seems more poignant than ever.

This lady doesn't know my story. She doesn't know that just 12 long and tear filled days ago, I endured the worst heartache a person can suffer. This lady doesn't know that my body, which is moving too slowly for her, is hurting or aching or cramping at most times of the day. This lady doesn't know that I'm fighting a battle of trying to remain calm amidst a new norm I've been unwillingly thrust into.

And because this lady doesn't know my story, my pain, my battle, perhaps she could be more patient. Or more kind with her words.

Because the way she made me feel, just to get out of Costco just three seconds sooner? Wasn't worth it.

So be patient and kind to one another. Everyone is battling something.

Love heals. I believe that. I have to.