Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Cute Feet that Don't Work

The conversation I'm about to relay is a conversation between Noah and I last week. This conversation absolutely broke my heart. And in all honesty, this post is probably much more for me than for you. (But that's the beauty of blogging - a journal others get the pleasure of reading.)

First though, let me say that conversations between Noah and I involve signing, a lot of me guessing, asking questions, receiving answers, and sometimes involve gesturing. I'm just relaying what was said after all that was done. 

Me (while I was putting on Noah's summer sandals): "Noah, you have the cutest feet. I love your little feet."
Noah: "I do not love my feet. My feet don't work."
Me: "Oh buddy. They don't work like everyone else's feet, that's true. God made your feet special and different. And because your feet don't work you get to have WHEELS."
Noah: "I do not like my feet. I like Granddad's feet because they run at baseball. I want my feet to run." 
Me: "I know, baby. It's hard to be you sometimes, isn't it? It is hard to be different and not be like everyone else sometimes. But I love you just the way you are. Your Daddy, your grandparents, your family, your friends - we all just love you just the way God made you." 

At that point, he was done with that line of conversation but brought it up multiple times over the next few days with my parents, with J, or with me again. It's clearly on his mind a lot at the moment. He's growing up and realizing that he is different, that he isn't like everyone else, and that his body doesn't work like everyone else's. And I know that this is something all children go through - they all have something that makes them different in some way, shape, or form - his just feels bigger. 

I have replayed that conversation in my head 199 times since it actually happened. Sometimes, I feel like I said all the right things and other times I feel like I glossed over the issue. I really don't know what else to do or say to him other than reassure him that he is loved, accepted, and that it is OK to be sad, upset, or whatever feeling he may be experiencing at that moment about how he is different. 

And no matter what he says about his feet, as his Mother I still think they are adorable.

1 comment:

  1. I think they're awesome feet too. I honestly don't think there's much else you could have said. Like you said, all children go through this about their own bodies, and all parents reassure their children that just because something makes them different doesn't mean that they're less loved or less perfect just the way they are because of it. Unfortunately, the only thing that will truly provide peace about it is him learning (and I believe he CAN!) to accept it on his own. Like I blogged about, no amount of preaching on my part or any one else's (yours, in this case) is going to change someone's mind about themselves. They have to allow their own mind to be changed first. I'm praying that he will realize that God made him the way he is for a purpose...and he is WONDERFUL! I <3 you Coco...and your son too.