Little, Short, Small

9/8/2011

Quotes from Noah Robert:

"Mom!  Look at my legs.  Do you think they are bigger?"

"I really think I'm growing because I've eaten so much food today."

While standing on my bed... "Look mom!  Do you think I'm taller?"

*****

I'm 5 feet tall.  


This is me on my first day of 1st grade.  I was so short and small that my mom had to buy the uniform fabric and have my uniforms hand made because none of the standard sizes offered at the uniform store fit me.  

This is my high school graduation.  From the time I was in 1st grade to the day I graduated high school, I was always the shortest person in my class.  I was always front and center in every class picture because that was the only way you could see me.

I am obviously short.  


And it has never really bothered me.  Of course, I've always dreamed about having an extra few inches of height, but the main reasons for those desires were 1) not having to alter every pair of pants I purchased, and 2) having more length for which to disperse my weight!


But for the most part, I've never minded being short.  


Until now.


I hate that I am so short because I have passed those "little genes" on to my children.


All of my kids are small.  


Very little.


Noah's growth had to be monitored by a specialist for about a year.  I heard the words "growth hormone deficiency" mentioned in reference to him when he was not even two years old.  He is barely on the official growth charts.


He is smart, charming, polite, kind, and funny.


And he is also little, short, small.


My girls are also tiny.  


Emily is 3 1/2 years old and weighs 27 pounds.  Molly is 17 months old and weighs 18 pounds.  They, too, are barely on the very bottom of the growth charts.  In fact, at a recent doctor's appointment, I heard those same words; "growth hormone deficiency", in reference to Molly.


They are both healthy, precious, ornery, and sweet girls.


And they, too, are little, short, small.


I don't worry about this fact for the girls.  From my own experience being short, there doesn't seem to be much of a negative association with a girl being small.  Unless, of course, the girl wants to be a supermodel or a professional ballerina (which I once did... the ballerina, not the supermodel :)).  But for the most part, being small allowed me to be on the top of the pyramids and made it easier to flip.  Nothing negative.  Possibly even all positive.


But it's completely different with boys.


For some reason, boys associate size with strength, athletic ability, and overall "coolness".  So being the "short boy" doesn't translate the same way being the "tiny girl" does.  

I've always known that Noah's height would potentially be a "cross" he would have to bear.  I just never thought he would feel its weight so early in his life.

But he has.

In the first few precious weeks of 1st grade, my happy-go-lucky, innocent boy learned that he is different from the other kids in his class.  He learned, for the first time, that he is little, short, small.  

And he learned it in a way that literally tore my Mama heart into a thousand pieces.

I had a utopian view about how his 1st grade year would go.  We are going to our brand new church school.  There are only 65 kids in the entire school; 20 in his class.  It was supposed to be the ideal situation.  Noah knew over half of his classmates before school even began.  Some he knew from church.  Some he knew from our neighborhood.  And others he knew from playing on a Basketball team with them last year.  They were all supposed to be friends; sharing the same Christian inspired values and happy to be sharing the same schoolroom.

But during those first few days and weeks, my utopian view of 1st grade was shattered.  

Noah was told by several classmates that he could not play on the Basketball team again this year because he is too short.  Despite his insistence that he was, in fact, going to be on the team, they persisted in telling him that it doesn't matter how old you are, only how big you are.  And by their estimation, he was too little.  

It continued...

He couldn't play tag at recess because he was too slow.
He was told his silverware was "baby silverware."
He was called "shorty pants"... by a girl!
His own best friend taunted him for being littlest in the line.

And now my Noah is painfully aware that he is different.

Despite my best efforts to explain to him that size simply does not matter to God, he still longs to be taller.  Despite his teacher talking to the kids about the different way God makes each person, he still feels criticized for his lack of height.  He talks about it very often.  It seems to be at the forefront of his mind.

Seeing his sad and confused face has caused this pregnant, hormonal Mama to cry a thousand tears.  It is the first time I have felt this kind of hurt as a parent.  It makes me mad.  It confuses me.  But more than anything, it makes me sad.  

And it is an awful sadness because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I tried.  

I wanted to stop it myself.  Instead, I talked to the teacher.  She tried to stop it.  But in truth, my attempts to protect my child's self-confidence blew up into a big mountain of a mess.    

The reality is that this is reality.  Life is not utopia.  And as much as I have tried to shelter Noah these past 6 years, I simply cannot do it forever.  He is now in a position of having to put to use the skills and character that I have hopefully taught him.  And as much as I want to shelter him from having to do so, I simply can't.  There is nothing that I can do to stop kids from being kids.    

Nothing except give it to God and pray...

Pray that he finds confidence in knowing that despite his size, he has been blessed with many gifts and many talents.  Pray that Vance and I will be able to instill within him a true sense of self... one that is not dependent on physical features or athletic abilities.  Pray that this "cross" will allow him to grow in character and virtue.  Pray that he will find his place among his peers.  Pray that he will rise above this "bumpy start" and that his confidence will not be jilted.  Pray that my own sensitivities on the issue will not translate to him.  And most importantly, pray that God will fill him up with the innate knowledge that he is good, perfect, and very much loved.  

Even if he is little, short, small.

*****

9/6/11

Quote by Noah Robert:

In response to being called "shorty pants"...

"I told her that I am just the size my Mom & Dad want!"

He couldn't be more correct.  And as I told him...

He is just the size that God wants too!





*****

Side Note:  I realize that in the grand scheme of life, this "cross" is one of very little weight.  My children are healthy and that is the ultimate blessing... one for which I am so incredibly grateful.  I know parents whose children are suffering from great illness and parents who have lost children.  I know parents whose children bear the "cross" of physical and/or mental disability.  Those are "crosses" of unbearable weights.  And my heart simply cannot imagine the hurt their hearts feel as they carry those burdens.  In truth, I am grateful for this little "cross"; for I know and realize my blessings far outweigh this burden.  It is  just the first time I have experienced the pain of knowing my child has been hurt.  And it hit me hard.