Updated: April 24, 2020
Originally Published: Oct. 23, 2015
Four years ago, my enlightening journey began. Shortly after our son’s birth, we found ourselves home with our newborn for the first time. That night felt endless, filled with our son’s piercing cries that echoed throughout the house. Was this normal? I fretted. Did we truly want to become parents? Thankfully, it turned out he was suffering from double ear infections. My husband and I were both relieved and bewildered—how could such a young baby have ear infections? And why was he already swimming in newborn-sized clothes at just five weeks?
As the ear infections persisted, a diagnosis of colic followed. Sleep became a distant memory, and I feared I would never experience a full night’s rest again. It was time to seek medical advice. Our son was remarkably small for his age but had an unusually large head, vibrant blue eyes, and an infectious smile that kept me going. Eventually, specialists informed us that he had been diagnosed with achondroplasia, the most prevalent form of dwarfism. This diagnosis shifted our concerns from the joyful expectations we had for our son to worries about potential medical and social challenges. I was haunted by the derogatory jokes I’d heard in passing. This wasn’t a joke; our son was a beautiful boy deserving of all the love in the world. My husband and I experienced a whirlwind of emotions—sadness, frustration, denial, and isolation.
Neither of us had any prior knowledge of dwarfism; it wasn’t part of our family history, and I’d never interacted with a little person before. Statistically, over 80% of individuals with dwarfism are born to average-height parents, with achondroplasia occurring in about 1 in 40,000 births—a mere 0.000025 percent chance. It felt as if we had won a peculiar genetic lottery, and soon we recognized how fortunate we truly were.
The moment a doctor mentioned the possibility of a cure was pivotal for me. I realized that I not only accepted my son’s condition but also embraced him for who he is. The notion of a cure was unsettling—akin to a doctor suggesting changes to your child’s eye color. Our son is extraordinary just the way he is, whether he stands at 6 feet or 4 feet tall. Understanding more about achondroplasia rekindled our dreams for his future—friendships, love, marriage, and a career. His size is just one aspect of who he is.
However, achondroplasia does come with its set of potential complications. Before he turned three, our son underwent several sleep studies, MRIs, ear-tube surgery, tonsil and adenoid surgery, and numerous specialist visits. I thought managing vaccinations would be the most daunting task, but I soon learned otherwise. I had to become resilient, place my trust in medical professionals, and ask a multitude of questions.
Now, at four years old, he remains blissfully unaware of his differences. We discuss his stature openly. I explain that being little is just a part of who he is, similar to how some children are born with blond hair. We emphasize that people with blond hair can do the same things as those with darker hair, highlighting the beauty of diversity. He enjoys watching shows featuring little people and embraces the idea of being “little big”—growing up and capable of big boy activities despite his smaller size. Rest assured, his size is the only small aspect about him!
At age three, he began preschool, a move we hoped would foster his confidence. He quickly made many friends; some noticed his size while others didn’t, simply viewing him as their classmate. We appreciate how our friends inquire about his condition and lend support during tough times, while also treating him as they would any other child, often forgetting his size altogether.
October is Dwarfism Awareness Month, a perfect opportunity to educate others about our son and achondroplasia. Many still lack understanding of this condition, leading to the use of derogatory terms and insensitive behaviors, including taking unsolicited photos or making jokes. This ignorance often stems from a lack of information. It pains me to think that some might take my son’s picture simply because of his stature. Fortunately, these individuals are few—perhaps they find solace in mocking others. Regardless of their motivations, my son is not the problem; he is not a victim.
I realize that expecting everyone to treat my son the same as their peers may be unrealistic. The fact remains—he is different, but that’s just one facet of who he is. He shares the same interests and aspirations as his classmates. When I discuss his height with him, he proudly states that he is “little big,” recognizing that while he may be small, he can achieve big things. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.
For those interested in learning more about pregnancy and home insemination, this is an excellent resource to consider.
In summary, our journey with dwarfism has changed our perspective on life and happiness. Our son, with his “little big” spirit, teaches us daily that size is merely a detail in the greater tapestry of life.