So while we’ve certainly had moments that have been difficult, by far most of our encounters with other people regarding our daughter’s limb differences have been more than pleasant. I mean, what parent doesn’t like to hear how beautiful her child is. Or there’s the man outside my son’s school who sees my daughter sideways walking along the chain length fence while we wait. He approached me a few weeks ago and said that on the mornings when he doesn’t feel like lacing up his running shoes, he thinks about my daughter and how hard she works and it forces him to hit the pavement.
My favorite moments, however, have come from discussions with other kids. Those discussions frequently are centered on her finger. I don’t know why, but younger kids tend to be fascinated by the one finger but rather blasé about only one arm. Shortly after returning home from our adoption trip, every day for a week, one of my son’s classmates looked at my daughter and would remark almost wryly, “still only one finger, huh?”.
Recently another little boy from my son’s class asked my husband about my daughter’s finger wondering where her other fingers were. “She only has the one,” my husband told the little boy. The boy thought about it for a moment and then he replied, “just give it some time.” I half expected the sage comment to come with a pat on the back.
Almost any parent of a differently abled child will tell you that because their child’s differences become their new normal, they almost never think about the differences. For us packing up the U-cuff and adaptive spoons became second nature just like packing diapers in a diaper bag once did. I see my daughter’s differences, but rarely anymore do I notice them. Those differences are just a part of what makes her perfectly beautifully her.
I think perhaps it’s like when people say that they don’t see race. On the one hand, why in heaven’s name wouldn’t you see color? It’s part of what makes us who we are. On the other hand, maybe what people actually mean is they see it but don’t notice it. But none of that was the point. The point was that sometimes when strangers approach us, for better or worse, it kind of leaves me bemused. It’s almost like, ohh, you can see that too?
I love this life of mine – on days when it’s sunny side up and even on days when it’s scrambled too.
This is so true. When my kids first came home from Africa, I was conscious of their race a lot. Now, I notice it, but it doesn't enter my brain as much.
ReplyDeleteOh, and I love "just give it some time."