Stalker

I couldn't think of a better title for this post. I was going to write about this little girl in my twins' preschool class, and how I overheard her mom say something to the teacher a few weeks ago about her daughter's "modified IEP" and how ever since then I've been stalking the mom and looking for an opportunity (and the right words) to ask her about her daughter. Stalking is really too strong a word - this little girl and her mom have just been under my radar, you know? But it seems like every time I see them I'm in a rush to get Joey to school or to get the kids home after preschool for lunch and naps.

Anyhow. So it turns out I don't have to stalk them anymore. We arrived at preschool a few minutes early this morning and were waiting around outside for the teacher to open the classroom and along comes this little girl and her mom. I've been rehearsing my little speech to this mom for weeks (and ran it by Michael who told me flatly "You can't ask her that." I, in my infinite and superior wifely wisdom, decided to ignore him). But of course I flubbed it all this morning. When I saw the opportunity to speak to her, my heart started beating all crazy and I stumbled over my words. I know I said something to the effect of "Can I be nosy? Umm, I'm really sorry. Please feel free to tell me to mind my own business. I overheard you . . . umm . . . a few weeks ago . . . you mentioned an IEP, and . . . umm . . . my baby has Down syndrome, so, ummm . . . well, I'm really sorry . . . I was just wondering . . ." She was very nice, and she told me that her daughter has Prader-Willi syndrome . I've never heard of it before.

Before she mentioned the name of the diagnosis, she first described to me her daughter's symptoms. She seemed reluctant to name the diagnosis, and as it turns out, she told me that she and her husband don't usually tell anyone that their daughter actually has a diagnosis. Not even their family. So despite the fact that this little girl had to be on a feeding tube for a long time and has been in different therapies since she was an infant, they've never told even their families that she has an actual diagnosis. The way she explained it to me is that they don't want anyone treating her "special." They just want her to be treated as a normal little girl. I can so relate to that! I can't imagine not telling the people in our lives about Finn's diagnosis though . . . obviously I'm not exactly the most private person in the world (as evidenced by this blog!). And maybe DS would be more difficult to "hide" anyway. I don't know . . . it feels a little sad to me that they expend energy on keeping her diagnosis a secret, I guess. I know I sound judgmental here, and I truly don't mean to be. I'm trying to understand that choice.

Anyway, I'm grateful to her for opening up to me about something she is clearly not comfortable talking about. I don't think I offended her . . . she didn't seem offended. She seemed friendly and genuinely willing to talk to me about her daughter, I suspect because I let her know that we are dealing with a diagnosis too.