"What if they don't like me?"

We've all wondered this before...

A new school. New neighbors. A new job. A new team. A new church. At the park, pool, or playground. In an interview. Meeting the in-laws. Any new environment...

"What if they don't like me?" Graden asked.

"Who?" was my immediate reply.

"You know. The kids at my new school. What if they don't like me?" Graden was so serious. He's never serious.

"Honey, of course they will like you. Everyone likes you. You're funny and smart and nice." I couldn't grasp where this was coming from, because he is very much all of those things and more. Honestly, people have always been drawn to Grado. Who couldn't like him?

He seemed to be contemplating my quick, concise answer. So, I pressed him a bit. "Why would you think they wouldn't like you?"

"Because I have a special brain."  BAM! Just like that - I felt as if I had been punched in my stomach. Trying hard to fight back tears and quickly be clever, I spat out: "That just means they'll like you more."

I'm not sure that was a good answer, but it's what came out. He smiled, nodded, and seemed to agree.

He was quiet the rest of the drive home and didn't bring it up again...

But, I couldn't get his question out of my mind.

I've been in school as a student and a teacher; I've worked with kids of all ages both professionally and socially. Not all kids are nice. I'm not going to go into why they aren't -- that's an entirely different blog post. Please note that I do not blame the kids.

The problem is that when someone asks him why he's different, struggling, missing school, falling behind, or behaving differently, he's going to have to answer honestly and tell them he is different. And, while I think that's okay, his "friends" may not understand. Even if they are okay with his differences, their reactions and questions could be enough to upset him.

Now, I'm not asking him to hide anything. I'm not even asking you to tell your children not to ask him about the big scary scar on the back of his head. I'm asking parents to remind their kids that each of us is different, and different is okay - good even. In fact, I encourage Grado to tell others about his health. It's never been a secret in our house (clearly - check out my blog) and I want him to know that there's no shame in being different or overcoming obstacles - of any kind.

As a mother, though, I'm tense. I, too, worry about whether or not they will like him. I can't tell him that, and I know I shouldn't be, but don't we all want our kids to be liked? To be the nice ones? To appreciate the differences in others and stand up for each other? Of course we do. And, we can teach them how to do these things, but feelings can still be hurt - unintentionally. I won't be mad at others; I will be sad for Grado.

As my last baby enters school, I have to realize that Momma can't fix everything.

The best thing about Graden's medical history and surgery (yes, something good has come of this) is that he (and we) realizes that he could be worse. At 5 years old, Grado appreciates that he can walk and talk; he has met kids (and adults) who cannot. As his Momma, I appreciate him every single day. Literally.

I don't not know if the kids will truly like him. I bet they will; he is pretty great.
But... If they don't, I hope he understands it's their loss and nothing that he - or his special brain - did.

He finally asked the question...

Today, I brought Graden with me to work.

Before we headed into class, we needed to drop Landen off to catch the bus. As is usual for our Friday mornings, we were singing along with the radio (thus, my Facebook status about "gettin' jiggy wit it") and enjoying our morning commute. :)

Out of nowhere, Graden asked, "Why do I have to have surgery on my special brain, Mom?"
Before I could answer, Landen followed with, "How do they get to his brain?"

Without missing a beat, trying to think fast and carefully, I offered the following:

"Remember when you had your test in the big, circle machine (the MRI)?" Graden quietly confirmed with an "Uh-huh." "Well," I continued, "they gave you medicine to help you get really sleepy so you wouldn't get hurt or feel anything." Graden again confirmed, "Uh-hmm."

I could feel both boys staring at me, so I went further. "They'll give you that medicine again. You'll be asleep and they'll cut open the back of your head to see your special brain."

After another pause, and still feeling both boys watching me, I continued with my explanation. "The doctors want to see if they can fix the broken piece in your brain so it can work better."

While I was considering what to say next or if I should even say more, Landen tilted his head and asked, "How will they close it when they're done?"

"I'm sure they'll stitch it up." Hoping that was enough for him, I peeked in the rearview mirror to see how Grado was taking this all in...

After a few minutes of listening to a new song, he, very seriously, asked, "Will my brain still be special?"

"Oh, yes! Your brain will always be special."

"Well, okay." Graden said, nodding approval and moving on to the beat of the next song.

--

I share this because I thought it was amazing that Graden is not scared of being "cut open." He was more concerned about being exactly as he is now... special.

His comments, his focus, reminded me that I, too, should be focused on how special he is and will be... before and after this surgery.

So, today, my worries feel lighter somehow as my ornery, honest Grado teaches his Momma a thing or two. :)