We just cleared up all the bruises. The three bruises that had placed themselves across her forehead were gone.
Then tonight, playing hide and seek, she turned to run and went straight into the corner of the moulding. Not 3 hours later, Addie fell into my desk leg. Twice in one night in the same spot.
It’s nights like this that I can’t help the tears from falling- I watched her reach and I watched her arms not be long enough to stop her. I scooped her up and felt her muscles tense in my arms. Her cheek pressed so hard into my sweater, the ribbing left an imprint. Her tears soaking my shoulder. As I stroked her hair, she relaxed into me. Melting into the rolls and soft waves carrying her in my womb created. We were one. As Dave tucked her into bed, I cried into my hands.
There are struggles that are inevitable, and those I never thought of- those like the falls where she couldn’t catch herself. Not because she isn’t strong, not because she doesn’t have the reflexes, but because her arms just aren’t long enough. Because having achondroplasia isn’t for the weak or fearful- it’s for the brave, independent souls who are strong enough to be so different on the outside. Fearless, like my sweet girl.
I don’t want to change her. Ever. Not for anything. But I want to stop all the pain she will feel from near misses. All the times her arms won’t reach and her legs won’t keep up. For the falls and bruises that show up on her body, and tear me apart inside.
Damn, tonight is one of those nights. Thanks for sticking with me, Reader.