What would you say to a child that is also a mother

I was in my internship on Wednesday, at the dog eared books. Sitting on the red ragged old and indented couch, I was listening to people, while trying to gather the interest to read something required of me. To my upper left was a chair beside a centered table of displayed cook books.
A woman was sitting on that chair, with navy stroller beside her and a curly black haired brown baby girl was perched on her thighs. I saw only the back of the woman's head and the outline of a big nose and chin. the woman at first made only sounds for the baby while kissing the baby's cheek mouth and nose. The baby girl with long wisps of black hair her eyes a black mirror the gazed my way but not at me. She wasn't entirely cute as her eyes were set strangely on her face, i wasn't used to the crease below her eyes though her seemingly tanned cheeks were cute just as all little animals are.
I guessed her age maybe 6 months? maybe 9?

a tall man passed by. he had a little pale girl with pink pants and a pink hat. the girl was strapped to his chest with brown cloth she squealed while rocking her hands as if to say she wanted to explore. As the man began to turn into the last aisle of of books he stopped and turned around unstrapped the pink baby  then he pointed out the other baby in a doting tone to lead into a friendly conversation. The woman responded in the same manner. I did not know this lady, but i already felt the brewing of dislike for her and wasn't exactly sure why.

They talked about children walking and how crawling developed the brain more than walking , she repeated herself 6 times about dyslexia , i didn't like the tones and the undercurrents behind her voice and hiding beneath her words. It was like a snake trying to cover its accent, its hiss. It was too close to home for me. it was too similar for me to try to rethink my growing dislike.

His child was reader, a slow walker, a listener and fascinated by bright colors and books
her child was a walker an observer a screamer and enthralled with chrome wheels and the shine of metals and sparkles.

His face was bristled with both masculinity and a fatherly tenderness. His head shaved, he wore a hat. then He brought up age.
He and his partner was 44. He worked at home, business was slow so he focused on his baby more as his partner worked outside of the home.
they talked how 44 was a good age compared to 20. she mentioned identity and that it was more developed at 44 then 20,
something in the way she said it made sound like she knew this from experience and dealing with others who had identity problems. though she said the same thing 3 different ways, he paused for the first time almost as if it didn't relate or if the topic surprised him but  he worked at keeping the tone and conversation light or idle.

then , it came in like like the fog comes in the city. Unavoidable and immense if seen at the right angle it consumes.

she looks to his baby first then him." oh its good to have a big daddy isn't little sweetie,"
"yeah this is my daugther's kid, I am a grandma, but my daughter is 14, she's still my kid, but she told me earlier 'mooom you take her i gott stuff to do.' haha so i did and here i aaam." in her heavy country accent, she half heartedly laughed under her words keeping the tone light tho what she had just said was heavy with unforgiving bitter undercurrents.

this caused him to pause for a split second then he continued the light working even harder to keep it simple. then just as he had used his child to introduce them he used his child to leave

she acknowledged this and they both made there babies wave goodbye.

it hit me the next day on the bus ride home while listening to music.

a child at 14?!

was her child conceived willingly?

did she not want her child at first? does she want her now?

what happens to your childhood when you give birth to a child in it?

I had never given birth, i know what its like to have a childhood or more like child bliss ripped and torn away.
tho i learned how to be a child again. eventually i recovered. and still am

but in her case its a completely different way of being torn... isn't  it?

how is she facing it?
how will she heal, grow and learn?
what kind of pain will they have to go through to get better ?

will she grow to love her child?
what kind of life will her child have
will there be a kind of content happiness that they can eventually share? even if its just for a moment?

why does it feel like i could cry the more i think about it
why does it hurt just thinking about it?

none of this is my business
this has nothing to do with me
there is nothing i can do to change or help them


yet in simple small ways i care and want to.
but i dont,


is it wrong to think there is beauty in this?
in this struggle in this fight in these hopes and possibilities
in the change growth and all the conflicting emotions
is it not like saying sweat and blood is beautiful

the traveler the listener in me says it is beautiful
so much so I wanna breakdown and cry not because i am sad or happy or even angry
not because their or my life is wrong or right but because it is simply so very beautiful.

what would you say?

to them to this to life to struggle and to fights
what would you say to a world so riddled with so many conflicts

What would you say to a child that is also a mother ?