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Saturday, September 14, 2019

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.