It's Sinking In.

Ryan brought home a simple school project today. And I'll treasure it forever. I know I sound dramatic. After all, both kids bring home endless projects. And they both make me proud. They work hard in school and it shows. But this project goes beyond learning. Its simple words say more than a million words could say. His brief words explain his height. And his limitations. And they shout out pride. Ryan's self awareness and acceptance are sinking in.

The project started a sentence and Ryan was to complete it: "I'm unique because ...". This single school project was a just a moment in the day for Ryan. But it was monumental to me. Ryan stated that he is "Little Big". It warms my heart that he still embraces this term. It means so much that he can acknowledge his stature, while at the same time claim his ability to BE big. I still remember talking endlessly to him about being Little Big. It sunk in.

Ryan then notes that his bones grow slowly. He's never braved sharing facts about Dwarfism with his voice. And today he reminded me that a voice doesn't have to be spoken to be heard. This project is a wonderful illustration of Ryan's understanding. He is aware that Dwarfism makes him different. And he's sharing it proudly with this project. It sunk in.

Lastly Ryan writes that when he runs, his legs go fast but he doesn't go as fast as his peers. This is where I was especially struck. I have a tendency to talk a lot ... as anyone that knows me would agree. :) Ryan can most definitely attest to this ... especially when it comes to talking about his difference. Ever since his diagnosis, the biggest fear I have had is Ryan NOT knowing and/or understanding his condition. It broke my heart to think about him playing with peers without knowing his condition. It felt like a lie. And I couldn't imagine him getting blindsided with his diagnosis in early childhood. His world could unravel. So, as Ryan grows up, I have talked endlessly about his condition and what it means. The good. The bad. And the in-between. I have always hoped he heard me. Even though I don't blame him for tuning me out. And then he brought home this simple sweet project. He not only shares that he doesn't run as fast, but he also states that his legs are going as fast as they can. And though this limitation likely frustrates him, he's acknowledging that despite his greatest efforts, he falls behind. It sunk in.

So here we are. Second grade. My fear remains managed. It only lives in my mind. Ryan will continue to hear me go on and on when it comes to his limitations and his potential. I can only continue to hope - and talk - as Ryan grows up we can learn about his newest challenges and rise above the struggle. And I hope it sinks in.

Venturing Outside the Bubble

The other day Ryan said something that he's never said before. We were heading out to a friend's birthday party. And just as we were leaving he said, "If someone I don't know calls me a baby, I'll tell them that I'm 7." My first thought was pride. He still struggles with confidence and speaking up. But then I realized something. He's nervous. He's considering the fact that there will be kids he doesn't know at the party. We're leaving the comfort of his bubble.

Ryan is surrounded by the most amazing people. His family. And his friends at school. Our family friends. And our LPA friends. Ryan has worked hard at being the best he can be. And it shows. No matter where we go, he seems to make friends. He even makes friends with employees at our grocery store. His bubble is fully intact and he thrives inside of it.

It's rare that I consider the world outside of Ryan's bubble. This is partially because we don't often find ourselves needing to venture outside. As long as Ryan has some of his comfort with him, the bubble follows. Going to the park with friends. Swimming in the community pool. Family trips. His bubble is there for him. There's no need to look outside. This is a great skill we all have. We aren't looking for the stares. Or the pointing fingers when we go out. We are with our friends, or simply each other. We do our thing and we're happy. The bubble is intact.

We are lucky to have a strong bubble - it's the reason Ryan appears so confident. But there are a lot of times Ryan has to venture outside of it. More than I realized. The world outside of his bubble is giant. And it's scary. The weight of this unknown is quite a lot for a kid to carry. And he carries it everywhere he goes. Just one question about his height ... and POP. His bubble is burst. He's exposed.

In the past we enjoyed our ignorant bliss. And we often still do. Bubbles are protective and secure. Ryan is safe and happy. But as he's getting older, he is venturing out more on his own. Sometimes he's forced to when he is asked about his size. And sometimes he is looking out and wondering. He's starting to see the world outside of his safe place. He sees his friends getting much bigger. He has witnessed hurtful actions and realizes his own insecurities. And though his bubble has given him confidence and strength, he is going to venture outside more and more. There is a big world out there. And I wonder if he's ready for it. And if I'm ready for it.

I can hope that as Ryan ventures out, he will be able to use his bubble for support. A soft place to land when he falls. A look back at the confidence he is capable of finding. A lift up to reach the tools he needs when faced with challenges. He's grown so much living inside of his bubble. And even though he needs to venture out, I'm glad that it's still there for him. As it always will be.