After Addy's less than zen arrival, I began to struggle with anxiety and panic attacks. The first few times I took Addy to the grocery store or even to her well baby check ups, I was flooded with feelings of anxiety. Even the day before the appointment or errand running, my stomach would knot up knowing we would be in public. With people. People who would be able to see Addy's limb difference. When our son was born, I found any reason I could to get him all gussied up and take him out to show him off. I loved people complimenting us on what a cute little red head we had created, and the only anxiety I had was whether or not I packed enough diapers and formula in the suitcase of a diaper bag I carried around. When it was time to head to Addy's well baby visits or the grocery store, I found myself grabbing a muslin blanket and covering her up, making sure that her limb difference was hidden. I am so ashamed to admit that I hid her limb difference, but I did. I hadn't come to terms with it yet, and hiding it was easier than addressing it with people that I didn't know. Any time I had to pull her out of her carseat to feed her or change her diaper, or if she woke up and her arms were flailing, I was looking over my shoulder and all around to see if people were staring. They were. Even if they were just looking at my beautiful new baby, in my mind, they were staring at her limb difference and judging me. Judging her.
A year later, I have accepted Addy's limb difference. She is making amazing progress on her own, and with the start of physical therapy. In Michigan, people would not openly stare. We had a few run ins that were uncomfortable, but for the most part people were polite. We're in Chicago now, which is looking more and more like a whole new planet. I had an infuriating encounter with an older woman who was offended by my "Ten Fingers Are Overrated" tshirt, which I handled with an immense amount of restraint. An accomplishment that a year ago would have not been possible. Yesterday, a little girl pointed out Addy's limb difference to her father seated on the bench next to us at a splash pad. My husband quickly stepped in and used the "Finding Nemo" to explain Addy's lucky fin and assure the little girl that Addy was perfectly healthy. Addy helped by waving and squealing at her just to drive home the point that she's a happy little miss. At the swimming pool, we've had countless stares, open stares. Unapologetic stares. Whispers. Pointing. All of which I have noticed. I know that people are genuinely curious about Addy's limb difference, and I am more than happy to answer questions or discuss it. Hell, I even carry Lucky Fin Project pamphlets and brochures for some such occasion! But the open staring, whispering, and pointing that they aren't even trying to hide??? I'm pretty fed up.
I am whole heartedly aware that this isn't going to go away any time soon, Addy will always have a limb difference, and I have accepted that. For now, she's completely unaware of the staring, pointing, and whispering...and she will be for a few more years. What happens when she hears it and sees it? I know that she will take her cues from us, and that we will teach her how to respond when she's in the situation...but what happened to parents teaching their children the right way to deal with their curiosity? And the adults? Why do they feel it's okay to stare and whisper? Are they above the rules we expect our children to follow?
Maybe it's the big city, maybe I'm just an emotional wreck because our baby is turning one in a matter of days...but I've had all I can take. I will continue to deal with the situations the best way I can. I will try to educate people on ability versus disability. I will continue to love and support our daughter in every aspect of her development and growth. Most importantly, I will teach my children that being different is beautiful, and to celebrate the differences in others.
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