Parenting
Four years ago, my extraordinary journey began. Our son was only a few days old when we brought him home for the first time. That first night felt endless as our little one cried continuously. Was this normal? I wondered. Perhaps having kids wasn’t for me after all! We soon discovered he had double ear infections, which explained the night-long cries. But how was it possible for such a young newborn to have ear infections? Why was he swimming in newborn clothes at just five weeks old? The ear infections persisted, leading to a diagnosis of colic. Exhausted from sleepless nights, my worries grew, prompting a visit to the doctor.
Our son was significantly smaller than average, with a notably large head. His striking blue eyes and infectious smile kept me going, even as we faced the diagnosis of achondroplasia, the most common type of dwarfism. With this revelation, our initial dreams for his future were overshadowed by fears of medical complications and societal challenges. I recalled the derogatory “midget” jokes I had heard over the years; my baby was no joke—he was an adorable little boy. My husband and I experienced a whirlwind of emotions: sadness, anger, denial, and loneliness.
We knew nothing about dwarfism; it wasn’t in our family history, and I had never met anyone with this condition. Yet, statistics reveal that over 80 percent of individuals with dwarfism are born to average-height parents. The odds of achondroplasia occurring are about 1 in 40,000 births—a mere 0.000025 percent chance. We pondered whether we had indeed hit the genetic jackpot, and it didn’t take long for us to embrace that idea.
The moment a doctor mentioned that a potential cure might be on the horizon, I realized that I not only accepted my son’s condition but also cherished him just as he is. The thought of a cure felt unsettling; it’s akin to being told one could alter their baby’s eye color. Our little boy is remarkable just as he is—whether he stands 6 feet tall or 4 feet tall, it doesn’t matter. As we learned more about achondroplasia, our aspirations for him to have friendships, love, and a fulfilling career returned. He may always be small, but that’s just one aspect of who he is.
However, this diagnosis does come with possible complications. By the time he was three, our son had undergone numerous sleep studies, MRIs, ear-tube surgery, tonsillectomy, and countless specialist visits (and I thought vaccines would be the hardest part!). He’s a trooper. Multiply the anxiety of a regular wellness visit by a hundred, and that’s the reality we faced. I had to become tougher, trust our doctors, and ask a multitude of questions.
Now at four years old, he is blissfully unaware of his differences. We discuss his size openly, explaining that he was born to be little, just as some people are born with blonde hair. We talk about how those with blonde hair can do the same things as those with brown hair; life would be dull if we were all identical. He enjoys watching shows featuring little people, and we emphasize that he is “little big”—growing and doing big boy things despite his small stature. Trust me, his size is the least remarkable thing about him!
Starting preschool at three was a fantastic opportunity for him to build confidence. He has made many friends, some of whom have asked about his size while others don’t even notice. They see him simply as their classmate. We appreciate how our friends inquire about his condition and provide support during challenging moments, yet they also don’t view his size as a concern. It feels as if they, like me, forget that he is little.
October is Dwarfism Awareness Month, and I’m constantly seeking ways to educate others about my son and achondroplasia. Many people still lack understanding of this condition. Both children and adults often use derogatory language (“midget” being the most common), take unsolicited pictures, or make jokes in public. Little people frequently become the target of cruel humor, often stemming from ignorance. It pains and frustrates me to think about someone snapping a photo of my son simply because he’s small. Luckily, such individuals are in the minority—perhaps they resort to humor at the expense of others to feel better about themselves. But regardless of the reasons, my son is not the problem; he’s not a victim.
I understand I cannot expect everyone to treat my son the same as everyone else. The truth is, he is different. But that’s all there is to it—he is just small. He enjoys the same activities as his preschool peers, and he will have hopes and dreams for his future just like them. When I discuss his height, he simply says he is “little big,” acknowledging that he is small but capable of big things. And he takes pride in that fact. So do I.
For those seeking more information on home insemination, check out this post or learn about breech positions from this authority. Additionally, CCRM IVF offers excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
In this reflective piece, a mother shares her journey of raising a son with dwarfism, specifically achondroplasia. Initially overwhelmed by the diagnosis, she comes to embrace her son as “little big,” emphasizing that his size does not define him. Through discussions about differences, friendships, and societal challenges, she highlights the importance of awareness and acceptance, advocating for education about dwarfism and the need to combat ignorance and ridicule.