I was doing The Bella’s hair today and asked her to hold a certain piece of it so that I could pin another into place. It was on the left side of her head. She tried to reach it with her right arm but couldn’t, so she used her right hand to lift her left arm by the elbow high enough to reach it. I watched as she tried to grab ahold of it a few times before finally working it between her fingers. Her shoulders and head began to lean to the left, as she was using her hair to support her arm in the air.
“Bella, you have to hold your head up straight or your hair won’t look right.” I said. She sighed heavily and positioned her right arm beneath her left elbow once again. Tiring of that quickly she looked at me in the mirror’s reflection and moaned, exasperatedly, “I can’t with this arm! This arm doesn’t work right, it’s not perfect!” She let go of her hair and lifted her arms in the air, the right one extended straight up and the left one bent, and no higher than her chin.
“See!” she exclaimed, “this one doesn’t work right, why do I have to use it?”
My tongue tripped over my words, caught off guard by her sudden proclamations of disability. “Well, you have to, so that it gets stronger and one day it’ll be perfect like the other one.”
I frowned at myself, a bad taste in my mouth. I’d lied to her. The physical therapists, the pediatricians, the neurologists, the others – they’ve all told us the same thing: at best she’ll have 80% use of her arm. It won’t ever get much better than it is right now, the therapy won’t do anything more than prevent it from regressing or becoming so stiff and tight she loses all use of it completely. My mind raced, wondering if I should admit my lie, knowing how against being dishonest with them I am, or if I should let it stand. Maybe it could encourage her to work harder when she starts therapy again in a few weeks. But, maybe she’d come to me in a few years and remind me of what I’d said, and how it wasn’t true. How she’d been trying and it didn’t work. How she felt like a failure because she couldn’t make it better.
“Well, it may never be as strong as your right arm, but we don’t want it to get worse, do we?” I backtracked. She looked down at her toes and then back up at my face in the mirror. She looked from side to side, at each arm, holding them up slightly and then back at me.
“Well, I want it to be perfect too.” she said quietly.
“But baby, even your imperfections are perfect. You’re beautiful and you know it, so don’t worry about it.” I answered. She smiled her silly little chipmunk smile and crinkled her nose at me, flattered. Her right hand once again took it’s place under her left elbow, pushing and holding it up. She grabbed that piece of hair. I fought back the tears burning my eyes and imitated her smile, making her laugh and ending the conversation.
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Listening to: 311 – Love Song
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I think you did good mama =)
It’s so hard to come to that place, where you can say out loud that your child may not be perfect. I struggle with that with my son. But you do have to come to terms with it, tell them you love them and that they are awesome no matter what their differences are.
Wow, I love this piece, Maria, love it.
I try to remind my kids that we ALL have differences. Some of us have them inside. Some outside. But we ALL have them.
yes. yes. even her imperfections are perfect.
that’s just, perfect.
this is why I love you.
Thanks for reminding us that parents don’t always say the “right” thing the first time, but we can always try harder.
Bella is beautiful, and smart, and trusts you enough to talk about what’s going on in her head. I’ve thought and thought about what I’ll say to my Melody the day she notices her nose doesn’t look like everyone else’s. I don’t know. I hope my instincts are as good as yours.
In my own experience, I know that the challenges that have come my way have made me stronger. Of course I want my kids to be strong, but the irrational Mama Bear in me wished it could happen without hurt and heartbreak and disappointment and their having to believe that they’re not perfect, when of course they are.
She’s absolutely perfect, and she has her mom to thank for that. You’re a wonderful mom, Maria. Keep it up!
I love you. Will you be my mom?
I suffered a severe break in my right arm when I was 9, the “doctor” didn’t set it properly and nerve, muscle and bone damage ensued. I spent about 18 months with it imobilized, looking like I was constantly raising my hand to answer questions in class.
As I grew I learned to compensate, my range of motion is about 1/2 of my left (and I’m right handed), so I became a lefty when my right couldn’t do the job. I still can’t put my right hand palm up, my left is much stronger and the bend and twist of my forearm is only noticable if I point it out to people (which I don’t normally do).
My point is, The Bella is beautiful and while this will always be a challenge for her, it is something she can overcome. Maybe not 100% physically, but certainly 100% mentally because you’re doing the right thing for her. Continue being honest about it and help her understand she has exactly zero to be embarrased about, ashamed of or self-conscious about.
She’s lovely. Perfectly lovely.
With your love and guidance, no matter what happens with her arm, she can see that she IS beautiful and perfect just the way she is. Awesome job mommy.
June 22, 2009 at 1:51 pm
This, to date, is my most favorite post of yours.
Oh, so sweet. And so wonderful that you were able to immediately cheer her up like that.
I love how you responded to her. I was directed here by an ohmommy twitter. I will be back :)
For a real bitch you make a good mama.
;-)
She is honestly adorably beautiful.
You are so awesome as a mom, MAria-I love your strict no-bullshit honesty, and as balls-to-the-wall as you may sometimes be HERE, you are nothing but loving and kind in your honesty with the girls-that is no small feat, and I applaud you!
She is absolutely gorgeous Maria, and so are you for being such an amazing mom to your girls. You are not only telling the truth, but your girls are going to have such an amazing strength in their self esteem as they grow older. Not only that, but you write about it beautifully.
She IS perfect. Perfectly gorgeous and perfectly her.
xoxo
Ohhh… she is absolutely perfect.
it was only a lie because you don’t believe it. therapists and doctors don’t know everything and the more that I work with them, the more I see that. maybe it won’t ever work like the other one, but it certainly won’t if you don’t believe that it’s a possibility…..very simply because she cannot view it as a possibility if you don’t.
you know that I don’t believe in “miracles” of the variety that an angry misogynistic god granted because his underlings prayed hard enough. but I most certainly believe in the kind that are created by a person doing what everyone said they couldn’t do.
I don’t think I ever told you about my niece who had a similar palsy (due to a different medical condition)…they said she would never walk and would require a feeding tube.
http://c3.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/92/l_30e029a36bf8901a3c350e72523f24aa.jpg
….she not only walks, but dances, jumps, and in general drives everyone nuts….in a good way :)
Bella will be fine whether her arm is “perfect” or not. what she needs most from you is to know that you believe in her.
She is perfect and you did the perfect thing, telling her the truth like that and making her feel good all at the same time.
Go you. :)
I think as a Mom, you are imperfectly perfect. This is a wonderful post!
alright now, you brought tears to my eyes. Stop that I say!
You three girls are so beautiful inside and out and all about.
Never let her believe that there is anything she cannot do. People with disabilities do amazing things all the time. My son has hemiparesis (partial paralysis) on his right side due to a prenatal stroke. He didn’t walk until he was 3 1/2 and he’ll never have full use of his right arm. Sometimes he says he wants to be a professional hockey player. I never tell him that I don’t think it’s possible. If he wants it badly enough he just may do it.
She needs to understand about her condition, but never let it hold her back. It’s a delicate balance to keep as a parent, but I think you’re doing great.
Found you via Hilly.
She doesn’t need for me to tell her the same because you said it so well but it’s true, she is beautiful.
All three of you are beautiful beautiful beautiful.
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