I don’t watch E.R. anymore.

Mostly because the show went off the air a couple years ago, but even before that, I stopped because after Sophie’s first heart surgery, I couldn’t stand listening to the actors scream medical terms over the bodies — even if it was gobbledygook. Medical dramas were no longer an escape; medical drama was something to escape from.

But all these years later, I can’t stop thinking about one particular episode of E.R. I finally looked it up tonight, while the pies were baking for Thanksgiving tomorrow (whoops, today). It’s episode 130, called “Viable Options,” and it aired April 6, 2000. Until I looked it up (which was surprisingly easy — wow, there are a lot of fans of E.R. out there on the Internet), I didn’t recall a lot of details about it, more the feeling I walked away with.

The main character in the episode — at least, in this particular story line in the soap opera — is Dr. Kerry Weaver. She was never my favorite. Not touchy feely, a real bitch. But this is her epiphany episode. In it, she feels compassion for a 14-year-old girl with a rare genetic condition that’s left her in a near-vegetative state. She can smile — sort of — and responds a little to human contact, but for the most part, she’s not doing much. Yet her foster mother is absolutely devoted to her, and when it appears the girl will perish without an invasive medical procedure, the woman throws herself at Weaver’s mercy.

I’m not proud to tell you that I was repulsed, watching this episode. I felt sorry for the foster mother who was so pathetic that this was what she attached herself to — a “pet,” as one of Weaver’s colleagues put it, most unkindly. I was surprised when Weaver took the mom’s side. I simply couldn’t imagine having compassion in this situation; from my utilitarian (pre-motherhood) perspective, there are plenty of healthy kids — kids who know what day it is, kids who have a shot at a good life — out there who need foster parents. Why not ditch this girl for one of them? And how could you truly love someone in such a state? The girl wasn’t the only one who was sick, as far as I was concerned.

I’ve never told anyone about any of this. But now that I’m telling you, I’ll admit that I’ve thought about it probably once a week (at least) since Sophie was born. And as time has marched on, I’ve come to better and better understand that foster mom.

Now, I’m not in any way suggesting that Sophie is in a near-vegetative state. Hardly. But sometimes when we’re out in public I catch people looking at her like she is. And she might as well have been when she was born, that’s how much I knew about Down syndrome. I was horrified. I never thought I could love her right. In my world, from day one, the covetable people have been the aloof ones — the ones who played hard to get. The ones who just might be smart enough to realize I wasn’t quite worth it. It’s been my job to win them over. I’d say this began with my father and extended all the way up to and including my first daughter; Annabelle was awfully colicky, after all. A message?

Sophie? Sophie was easy. Not vegetative, but easy. Stubborn, sure, but loving in a way I’ve never experienced. Looking back, I realize that in some small way I resisted that love for a long time, and then one day, I gave in to it, the way Meg gives in and lets Aunt Beast nurture her in A Wrinkle in Time.

I’m not sure I can explain it right, but I think I can’t forget that E.R. episode because somewhere along the way, I’ve come to completely understand that foster mom’s love for her daughter. It’s not cerebral, it’s from the heart. It’s not something you can explain, but something you breath in your kid’s hair when she falls asleep on your lap after a long day — no matter what “long day” means in your particular world.

I still don’t know how that fictional foster mom (or the many real-life ones out there) do it. I’m not saying I could. But I am grateful to Sophie for teaching me just a little bit about what it might be like — and why it really might be love.

Happy Thanksgiving.