by, Rebecca of Mommy, Ever After
Something happened, recently;
In fact, many somethings.
My baby daughter became a kid;
She started to go to school;
She got recognized for her glasses.
Back in the early days, when her diagnoses, and spectacles, were so new,
my greatest fear was that she’d be judged.
I worried that she would be ridiculed
and prayed that she would not be marginalized.
I hoped that people would be able to look beyond the tiny, wire frames that sat upon her nose,
and not see a girl who was bespectacled,
but instead, a girl who was being spectacular.
I hoped. I wished. I waited.
And then, she grew up.
She started preschool.
She met children.
She made new friends.
And, by coincidence, we found out that another girl in her class had the very same name.
I wrestled with the idea of how to tackle the name situation, as I am in the role of both mother and teacher,
and with the girls being so young, I wanted to avoid as much confusion as possible.
Should I call by daughter by her full name, although she’s used to going by the abbreviation?
Should I tack on the first initial to their last name?
But, before I could come up with the right answer,
it was handed to me;
handed to me by two, tiny, sticky, toddler hands.
A little boy in the class, for whom my daughter has the utmost affection, began to ask for her on his drive to school in the morning.
His mother shared with me that as they would pull into the parking lot, he would ask for his teachers, the puppets, and my daughter.
And he would say her name, and then, to be absolutely clear, he would modify it, by saying,
His mother told me this with a smile.
Her son loved my daughter. His friend. His friend with glasses.
And when I heard this, I was overcome with great emotion.
For all those many days and weeks and months, I had felt so worried that my daughter would not be seen for who she was
for what she could do,
and here it was: The affirmation of my fears. My kid was the little girl who was known for having glasses, and even given a nickname, as such.
And as soon as her words hit me,
I thought it was precious.
I felt grateful.
I felt proud.
Because for me, her glasses are just one of the many things that maker her special. And they make her special to her new friend. And they have absolutely nothing to do with why he loves her.
He loves her because she shares his obsession with animals. He loves her because they do puppet shows for one another. He loves her because they sit quietly together, in the corner, and read books. And he loves her enough to have a nickname for her. And it is true. She’s with glasses,
but she’s also with so much more.