It’s birthday party season (or so it seems). Emily went to her third birthday party in a month – this time at a bowling ally. I was a bit skeptical about how a bunch of 4 and 5 year old girls were going to manage gigantic bowling balls, but apparently they have six pound balls, gutter guards and these chute thingies that little kids can use instead of trying to actually throw the ball down the lane.
It all added up to a ton of fun, but there was a moment that took me completely off guard. One of Emily’s friends was sitting next to me and she turned to me and said, “Why does Emily’s face look different then my face right here.” I watched in slow motion as she pointed to her upper lip, right below her nose.
It’s a question I’ve been dreading, but also looking forward to because it gives me the opportunity to explain Emily’s condition to her friends. Still, Emily’s friends are five..we were at a birthday party…and this girls’ poor, mortified mother was standing over her looking like she wished the floor would swallow her up.
I explained Emily was born with a cleft lip and had surgery to fix it. As I spoke, there was a running dialogue going on in my mind, which sounded something like this..
“Well, Ella, Emily has a cleft lip and she had to have surgery to fix it.”
VOICE IN MY HEAD: “Ella is five. She doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Does she even know what surgery is. Oh lord, Ella’s poor mother looks horrified.”
“And the surgery caused her lip to scar, so she can’t really smile the way you can smile.”
VOICE IN MY HEAD: “Okay, now I’ve completely confused the child and, by the way, are the other kids talking about this? Is Emily uncomfortable? She’s eating her pizza, so maybe she doesn’t know what we’re saying…”
“When Emily was born we were sad that her lip looked different, but we really love her face even though it’s different.”
VOICE IN MY HEAD: “Oh god, this child is five! I’ve said too much. Her mother must think I’m a lunatic. Shut up now!”
And that’s how I handled that situation. Not very well. But I’m thinking that once Emily starts Kindergarten, I’ll speak with her teacher about coming in and teaching the kids about what a cleft lip is and what Emily has had to go through to get a face like theirs. The only thing I’m not sure about is how that will make Emily feel. She hates looking at pictures of herself before the repair.
Here’s a shot of her “bowling” using that chute thingy. She did get one strike. Woo Hoo Emily!
Oh my gosh, I can’t imagine the day I’ll have a conversation along the same lines.
But for what it’s worth, you were amazing with what you said! I don’t think you should have said it all any other way! That’s a great idea about going in and talking to the Kindergarten class. Might have to steal your idea.
Rachel when she sees pictures of herself or other cleft affected kids, she calls it a “boo boo’ lip.
Thanks, Darcy. So good to hear from you! I figured out how to enable comments on my blog again without getting bombarded with spam. It’s good to actually talk to visitors once again! I can’t believe Rachel is also entering kindergarten. Time flies!! Thanks for your kind words