The past few days have seemed unusually hard for me. My heart hurts. Not for anything that has to do with me, for once. It has to do with Addison. Let me explain.
Tuesday was my day for preschool carpool. I picked all 3 girls up after school that afternoon, and Addison's two friends started running down the sidewalk toward the car. Following suit, Addison started running as well. Due to her lack of physical coordination, she was quite a ways behind them. She has never said anything before, or ever even seemed to notice much. But this time, she called after the other two, "Guys! Wait for me! I can't run as fast as you! Slow down!" I stopped dead in my tracks behind Addison and had to fight back the tears.
The next day was dance class. (I'm feeling like the proverbial "soccer mom" here. LOL.) This is probably Addison's favorite activity of the week. She is completely enamored by her dance teacher, and loves putting on her tutu. They started out with warm-ups....stretching, jumping, spinning and running. Addison did fairly well at all of those activities, and was totally keeping up with the rest of her class. Then came the skipping. She was trying her very best, and another one of the girls stopped and innocently told her, "That's not how you skip. You don't know how to do it right." Addison turned and looked at me with an "I don't understand" kind of look, and just went right back to class.
Incidents like that make my heart hurt. A lot. I know how to deal with and have come to accept that there are certain (many, actually) things that I can't physically do. Ninety-nine percent on the time I'm okay with that. But it wasn't an easy road getting to this point. I had a hard time admitting as a teenager that I was different. That I wasn't physically up to par with my peers. It was hard. I was blessed with a great family and amazing friends who accepted my limitations and never made me feel like less of a person because of my CMT.
But I can't help but worry for Addison. Even though all of the comments made to her recently were nothing but innocent, I worry that someday some comments made to her won't be so innocent. That she won't have friends who accept her for who she is. That she will be made to feel different. I know that I shouldn't be focusing on her limitations, and that I should be grateful for all of the things that she is. She is beautiful, spunky, smart, sweet, funny, talented, and an all-around great kid. I am so grateful that she is my daughter, and I guess that "Mama Bear" instinct is just kicking into overdrive lately.