We All Judged Her: The Woman in the Church with Her Dogs, Tears, and a Secret Longing for Motherhood…

WE ALL JUDGED HER

Amelia stands in the cathedral, tears quietly running down her cheeks for over fifteen minutes now. I can’t help but find it surprising. What is *she* doing here? I think to myself. Of all people, I never expected to see her here.

Im not personally acquainted with Amelia, but I see her often enough. We live in the same block of flats and frequent the same park. I take my four children there, while she strolls with her trio of dogs.

Weve always quietly judged herby we, I mean myself, the other mums wrangling their kids, the old ladies on the benches, the neighbours, and, I suppose, even passersby.

Amelias always impeccably dressed, strikingly beautiful, and she looks as if she doesnt have a care in the world.

Shes changed men again, I see, huffs Mrs. Norris from the bench outside, never subtle with her barbed comments.

Thats her third! another neighbour, Mrs. Carter, chimes in, eyeing with envy as Amelia climbs into her hardly-cheap car with yet another dashing companion.

Mrs. Carters son, Martin, is forty-five and still cant afford even a used Ford.

Should be having children instead, her biological clock must be ticking, chimes Mr. Tomlin, usually known for playing devils advocateexcept, when it comes to judging Amelia, everyone’s on the same side.

Later, the bench crowd smirks when yet another of Amelias boyfriends vanishes, and the consensus is reached: Cant hold onto a man, that one. Place probably reeks of dog.

But its us mothers who resent her the most. While were chasing our offspring from swings to bushes to binswherever a childs curiosity leadsshe glides leisurely with her pampered pooches, not visibly bothered by the mayhem around. Sometimes, she even throws a little smirk our way, as if to say, You chose chaos, I live for myself. Youre counting pennies for Emilys coat and shoes, but I spend on whatever I please.

Typical childfree, my friend Rachel, mother of three boisterous boys, mutters darkly.

Its the richtheyve got their little dogs, cats and hamsters instead, agrees Annabelle, tugging a wild toddler from a tree while heavily pregnant with twins.

Shes just selfish, swans round the world while I havent seen the seaside in seven years, sighs Marina, mother of five.

Yes, quite right, Id always nod along, bolstered by the crowd on the bench, before rushing off to pick up my wailing daughter, Sophie, whos just grazed her knees.

Better a kid than a kennel! snaps an elderly lady one day as Amelia strolls past with her dogs.

Mind your own business! Amelia bites back, wanting to say more but thinking better of it as she walks on.

Rude! the old woman shouts after her.

I stand outside the cathedral, watching Amelia sob, before stepping out.

Excuse me wait, I hear her call and turn to see her hurrying after me in the churchyard.

Youre the one in the park with four girls, arent you?

Thats me Youre the one with three dogs.

I am. May I talk with you?… You know, I always watch you with your daughters and the other mums, and I really admire you, she says, her face flushing pink.

You?!? I blurt out, almost adding, But youre selfish, childfree, a snob!the labels our group so quickly applied to her.

Thats how we first spoke properly, sitting down on a nearby bench. Amelia talks and talks, with tears barely held in. Its clear she just desperately needs someone to confide in.

Amelia grew up in a happy, caring family and, for as long as she can remember, has wanted children of her own. She married for love, but two lost pregnancies and a doctors cruel verdictinfertilitywere enough for her beloved husband to walk away. The second husband left for the same reason, despite years of painful treatments which nearly cost Amelia her life. There was a third boyfriend, but he fled at the faintest hint of a baby, fond as he was of Amelias car and earningsbut children were never in his plans.

I would have given everything just to have a child! she chokes out.

I I thought you just really loved dogs, I admit, feeling embarrassed.

Oh, I adore them, she smiles softly, but not instead of children.

To ease the loneliness, Amelia got herself Toby. Then she was asked to look after Max while his owners renovated their place, and somehow he stayed. Fen, she found one winter abandoned as a tiny puppy.

I can still hear the old ladys censure: Better a child than all those mutts, and see Mr. Tomlin shaking his head: Clocks ticking At forty-one, though she looks barely thirty, time is slipping by.

So Amelia decided to adopt. It didnt matter whether the child was tiny or already grownshed give her heart regardless. She adored a six-year-old boy, Charlie, who immediately asked, Will you be my mum? I will! she promised.

Shes just selfish, she avoids all responsibility, Marinas old words echo in my mind.

But the authorities couldnt let Amelia take Charlie; his mother, though unwell, still had her parental rights. That hit me like a brick, Amelia remembers. How can a child need a home so desperately, and nothing can be done?

Then came four-year-old Lucya little girl twice adopted and twice returned for her wild temper. Someone in the home remembers the heart-breaking scene: Lucy crawling on her knees after her foster mum, clutching at her skirt, begging, Mummy, dont send me back. I promise Ill be good!

When Amelia met her, Lucy asked, Will you send me back too? Never, Amelia managed, her voice shaking.

There were troubles with the adoptionAmelia doesnt go into detailbut shes resolute: Shes my daughter, and Ill fight for her.

That day at the cathedral was Amelias first visit. I had nowhere left to turn, she whispers.

The vicar appeared, and Amelia went to speak to him, jotting down his advice.

Itll all work out. Go with God, I hear him assure her, and for the first time, she smiles.

We walk home together.

I suppose you and the others think Im stuck-up, full of myself, Amelia says. But Im just tired of explaining myself to everyone. Ive already heard every nasty thing people can say.

I keep silent.

Amelia invites me and my daughters over to visit sometimeto play with the dogs. I accept. Ill goone day. Just not yet.

Because, right now, I burn with shame.

I cant stop wondering, How did we become so judgemental? How did *I* become so harsh? Why do we so easily assume the worst of someone?

More than anything, I wish for Amelia, this remarkable woman we all misjudged, to find her happiness at last. I want Lucy to wrap her arms round Amelia, nestle close, and say, Mummy. And know, finally, shell never be sent away again. And to see Toby, Max, and Fen bouncing, tails wagging, around them.

And perhaps, who knows, a miracle will happena kind and loving husband for Amelia, and a brother or sister for Lucy. That kind of thing does happen, doesnt it?

And I hope no one will ever utter a single cruel word about them again.