"What's wrong with her hand?"
"What's wrong with her leg?"
Scenario One:
The first time someone asked me about Olivia's hand she was only about 10 months old. We were at Outback enjoying our dinner with our neighbors, attempting to carry on a conversation and keep our children entertained all at the same time. The waitress had taken our orders, brought us our drinks and appetizers. All the while, noticing Olivia's bright pink splint on her hand. I can literally see the wheels turning in her head as she wonders why such a little girl could need a "bandage" on her hand, or what had she done to cause the need for this, or even worse, what had her parents done. The waitress lets the thoughts sit with her and each time she returns I can tell the question is on the tip of her tongue. Until finally, she can't take it anymore. She looks at me curiously and asks, "what's wrong with her hand?"
It is like an arrow has been shot through my heart. What is wrong with my sweet daughter? NOTHING, I want to shout at the woman! But she means no harm, and more likely she is somewhat concerned, but even more likely she is simply curious about the bright pink benik splint on Olivia's right hand. I could go into all the details of what has transpired over the past 5 months. But I didn't think it would be a good idea to tell her how we spent the past five months of our lives going from wondering why Olivia kept her right hand in a fist, to meeting with her pediatrician, then meeting with a specialist, discovering she had hemiparesis cerebral palsy, going through the MRI process with an 8 month old, meeting with an occupational therapist, physical therapist and a speech therapist. I didn't tell her about the tears I had cried, or the number of hours we spend helping Olivia to reach milestones that other children reach without the aid of therapy. Instead, I look up at her and smile and shrug and say "oh, it is just to stabilize her thumb."
Since then we have had our fair share of questions from complete strangers. Ever since Olivia started using her AFO (ankle-foot orthotic), the number of people has increased that ask me "what is wrong with her foot?" or even worse, "what is wrong with her?" We receive sympathetic smiles and curious glances while we push Olivia in the cart at the grocery store or while walking around during my husband's softball game or the park. And as I walk with my child, I can feel the questions growing in their minds. Some I can tell want so badly to ask me and others practically yell at me from across the store or sometimes their own children ask the question that was already burning in their mind. But as we get from point A to point B in a public place, I cannot help but notice the look on each one of their faces. It is a face that wonders why my daughter is different.
I am sure by this point in this journey I probably just think everyone is thinking this about my daughter, as I certainly think about her development constantly. But in reality many people probably do not notice, or do not even care that there is a brace of some sort on Olivia's hand or foot. But for some reason I cannot help but feel as though there are constantly stares from those around us. At the same time however, I have to be honest and admit that I am not really sure what it is that bothers me about the question other than the fact the way people ask it is sometimes incredibly rude because there is nothing wrong with my daughter, nothing. So the question, "what is wrong with ....?" is not my favorite way to be approached by a stranger, but I also think this is similar to when I was pregnant and people would say "wow, you are so BIG". (Here's a hint people, don't say that. Say something like "you look amazing." Period. "You are glowing." PERIOD. But people don't think about the order or the words they use to form a sentence, or more importantly, that their comment may come off as rude or insensitive.
Before I had Olivia I was not someone that wanted to hold someone else's baby. I didn't ask strangers questions about themselves or their children while standing in line at the grocery store. At most, when I went for a walk in the evening I would likely at least say "hi" and I would always smile at them. I am not an unfriendly person, but I just don't talk to strangers. So maybe I am just having a hard time now that it seems like every person wants to talk to me about why my daughter has a brace on her leg because I can almost guarantee that if I were to say CEREBRAL PALSY, it would turn into a very uncomfortable situation for everyone. So for now, I guess I will continue to answer the question to appease the stranger, letting them know that Olivia's AFO is to help her walk because she hyper-extends her right knee. End of story. Everyone keeps moving about their business and no one hands out tissues or gives me a hug.
Scenario Two:
Sometimes we run out of the house and we simply do not put on Olivia's AFO or her hand splint. For one reason or another, we manage to leave these things behind. We go to the grocery store. No stares. We go to the park. No questions. We go to the mall. No conversations with strangers. My point is this: There is nothing wrong with my daughter. She is not different than anyone else. She is a happy, cranky, funny, loud, fussy, talkative, amazing little two year old girl. She needs a brace to help strengthen the muscles and tendons in her leg. She needs a hand splint to stabilize her thumb and keep her from damaging it from her constant hand clinching in a fist. These things simply help her to be stronger, they do not make her different.
"What's wrong with her leg?"
Scenario One:
The first time someone asked me about Olivia's hand she was only about 10 months old. We were at Outback enjoying our dinner with our neighbors, attempting to carry on a conversation and keep our children entertained all at the same time. The waitress had taken our orders, brought us our drinks and appetizers. All the while, noticing Olivia's bright pink splint on her hand. I can literally see the wheels turning in her head as she wonders why such a little girl could need a "bandage" on her hand, or what had she done to cause the need for this, or even worse, what had her parents done. The waitress lets the thoughts sit with her and each time she returns I can tell the question is on the tip of her tongue. Until finally, she can't take it anymore. She looks at me curiously and asks, "what's wrong with her hand?"
It is like an arrow has been shot through my heart. What is wrong with my sweet daughter? NOTHING, I want to shout at the woman! But she means no harm, and more likely she is somewhat concerned, but even more likely she is simply curious about the bright pink benik splint on Olivia's right hand. I could go into all the details of what has transpired over the past 5 months. But I didn't think it would be a good idea to tell her how we spent the past five months of our lives going from wondering why Olivia kept her right hand in a fist, to meeting with her pediatrician, then meeting with a specialist, discovering she had hemiparesis cerebral palsy, going through the MRI process with an 8 month old, meeting with an occupational therapist, physical therapist and a speech therapist. I didn't tell her about the tears I had cried, or the number of hours we spend helping Olivia to reach milestones that other children reach without the aid of therapy. Instead, I look up at her and smile and shrug and say "oh, it is just to stabilize her thumb."
Since then we have had our fair share of questions from complete strangers. Ever since Olivia started using her AFO (ankle-foot orthotic), the number of people has increased that ask me "what is wrong with her foot?" or even worse, "what is wrong with her?" We receive sympathetic smiles and curious glances while we push Olivia in the cart at the grocery store or while walking around during my husband's softball game or the park. And as I walk with my child, I can feel the questions growing in their minds. Some I can tell want so badly to ask me and others practically yell at me from across the store or sometimes their own children ask the question that was already burning in their mind. But as we get from point A to point B in a public place, I cannot help but notice the look on each one of their faces. It is a face that wonders why my daughter is different.
 |
| Grocery Store with Olivia's Brace |
I am sure by this point in this journey I probably just think everyone is thinking this about my daughter, as I certainly think about her development constantly. But in reality many people probably do not notice, or do not even care that there is a brace of some sort on Olivia's hand or foot. But for some reason I cannot help but feel as though there are constantly stares from those around us. At the same time however, I have to be honest and admit that I am not really sure what it is that bothers me about the question other than the fact the way people ask it is sometimes incredibly rude because there is nothing wrong with my daughter, nothing. So the question, "what is wrong with ....?" is not my favorite way to be approached by a stranger, but I also think this is similar to when I was pregnant and people would say "wow, you are so BIG". (Here's a hint people, don't say that. Say something like "you look amazing." Period. "You are glowing." PERIOD. But people don't think about the order or the words they use to form a sentence, or more importantly, that their comment may come off as rude or insensitive.
Before I had Olivia I was not someone that wanted to hold someone else's baby. I didn't ask strangers questions about themselves or their children while standing in line at the grocery store. At most, when I went for a walk in the evening I would likely at least say "hi" and I would always smile at them. I am not an unfriendly person, but I just don't talk to strangers. So maybe I am just having a hard time now that it seems like every person wants to talk to me about why my daughter has a brace on her leg because I can almost guarantee that if I were to say CEREBRAL PALSY, it would turn into a very uncomfortable situation for everyone. So for now, I guess I will continue to answer the question to appease the stranger, letting them know that Olivia's AFO is to help her walk because she hyper-extends her right knee. End of story. Everyone keeps moving about their business and no one hands out tissues or gives me a hug.
Scenario Two:
Sometimes we run out of the house and we simply do not put on Olivia's AFO or her hand splint. For one reason or another, we manage to leave these things behind. We go to the grocery store. No stares. We go to the park. No questions. We go to the mall. No conversations with strangers. My point is this: There is nothing wrong with my daughter. She is not different than anyone else. She is a happy, cranky, funny, loud, fussy, talkative, amazing little two year old girl. She needs a brace to help strengthen the muscles and tendons in her leg. She needs a hand splint to stabilize her thumb and keep her from damaging it from her constant hand clinching in a fist. These things simply help her to be stronger, they do not make her different.
 |
| Grocery store without brace. Same little girl. |
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