Unwanted reminder

As a parent of a “failure to thrive” child, weight checks are not my favorite thing. The scale taunts me as if it is the measure of how successful I am at caring for my son. It reminds me of how far we have to go. It has the ability to completely crush me. A tiny scale has the possibility of sending me home from an appointment in tears.

 
At our last appointment the nurse asked if we could get a weight check as I wheeled him to the exam room. “Yes, as soon as I undress him” was my response. His pediatrician would like very accurate weight checks so I must still undress him and lay him on the too small scale. The nurse responded as she flipped through his chart, “he’s 2 years 4 months, he can just stand at the scale in his clothes.” Insert eyes welling up with tears here. I told her “no, he can’t.” I wanted to thank her kindly for the reminder that my son does not stand. Thank you for reminding me that yes he’s over 2 years old, and he should be able to hop up on the scale with a grin to see how big he is and receive an Elmo sticker for being such a good listener. I laid him on the baby scale and she said “he can’t sit?” Keep it together. Deep breaths. Oh, thank you again for reminding me that he can’t sit either. Wow. This nurse was on a roll. I couldn’t look at her as my body warmed up from hurt and anger. I looked at my little boy crying, trying to squeeze on the infant scale and wanted to take him and leave. At this moment I didn’t care so much that the scale said 20 pounds; the average weight of a twelve month old.

 
Yes, I was disappointed at the scale but this time I was more crushed at the insensitive remarks by a medical professional. I wish she would have taken an extra minute or two to read his chart. I wish she would have had us wait a minute longer in the quiet waiting room to avoid me driving home in tears. I wish she could have jumped for joy at the scale because he actually had a gain of a few ounces. I wish she would have realized that her comments were hurtful. I don’t need a reminder that my child is 2 years 4 months and he’s behind. Far behind. I know this. Most days I choose to celebrate where he’s at and not where he should be. I choose to see him for him, but this day she reminded me of who he “could” be had he been born with different genes.

I don’t know if these comments will always upset me. I don’t know if there’ll come a day when I don’t cry after an insensitive remark about my son. Will my skin just get thicker? Will I just blow these comments off? Will I just check them off on the list of “stupid things people say?” I don’t know, but I do know that I’m human and he’s my baby, and next time I will say something instead of silently hurting.