"My Dad is Paraliced"

As summer vacation was winding down, Jeff and I would talk to Evie about her upcoming school year. We asked her what she was most excited about ("Getting to play on the big playground this year!"), we asked her which of her friends she couldn't wait to see ("All of them!"), and what she was looking forward to learning about ("Art!").

We were doing our parenting best to build her up for the coming school year because we had a bit of a rough exit last year.

Jeff had been in the hospital for a week last May. Evie stood with her grandparents and watched as an ambulance took her sick Dad and her worried Mom to the hospital. It was a very anxious time for all of us, and Evie's anxiety spilled over into her school days. She suddenly didn't want to get on the bus - something she'd always handled so well. And the first half hour of school was spent in tears with friends rallying around her.

We were hoping for a better start to the new school year.

A few nights before the first day, I was putting Evie to bed, and she said to me, "I don't think I want to tell my new class this year that Daddy is paralyzed."

I was caught off guard. "Why not?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders in an I don't know gesture. "I just don't," she said quietly.

"That's okay, Sweetheart. You don't need to," I told her gently. "But sometimes you might have to talk about it - or at least mention it," I continued. I gave her an example. "What if your class is talking about the jobs your parents have? That might be a time that you would explain that your dad is disabled and your mom takes care of him."

She nodded.

"And remember, you don't have to tell everyone the whole story," I reminded her. Because she has. All in about 20 seconds, in one breath, talking 800 miles per hour, starting with "One day we went to the beach," and ending with "and now my dad can only move his head." Yikes. Talk about overwhelming - for her and the person on the receiving end of all that.

We said goodnight and left the topic there.

A couple days later, she and I went to the school and met her teacher, and an opportunity arose to let her teacher know about our special circumstances. As we were leaving the classroom, the teacher stopped us and asked if I would be able to volunteer in the classroom or if I would be busy during the day. I seized the opportunity.

"Evie's dad is a quadriplegic," I said. "He's paralyzed from the neck down, and I am his caregiver. So as much as I'd love to come in regularly, I won't be able to." The teacher understood. Then Evie piped up and said that maybe her dad could come in one day like he did for the parent teacher conference last year. The teacher smiled and said she looked forward to meeting him.

We said our goodbyes and headed toward the exit. Evie was relieved that her teacher now knew about her paralyzed dad and that it wasn't a big deal.

Fast forward to yesterday - the first day of school.

Evie came home, announced she'd had a GREAT day, answered our questions, then began unpacking her backpack. She pulled out a folder stuffed with flyers for parents to read and sign. Then she brought out a crumpled up piece of paper that had been re-flattened out, and said, "Oh, today I told my class that Daddy's paralyzed."

"Oh wow," said Jeff.

"You did?" I asked with surprise. "What did you say?"

"I wrote it on a piece of paper," she explained. "We all had to write three things about us, then we crumpled up the papers and played snowball fight."

The good ol' getting-to-know you activity.

I looked at the paper she brought home. And just beneath "I love rainbows and unicorns!" and "My favorite stuffed animal is Uni," were the words, "My dad is paraliced."

She just smiled at us from ear to ear.

Later that evening I asked her what some of the other kids wrote on their papers.

"Things like 'I have a dog' or what their favorite color is," she said. Then she paused. "No one wrote something like me."

"How did you feel about telling your class?" I asked.

She gave me the thumbs sideways gesture.

"Kind of in between," she said. "I didn't know we were going to read them out loud. I thought it was just for the teacher."

"Did anyone ask questions?"

"Yep, one person said 'What does paralyzed mean?" and I told him it means you can't move anything."

I told her she did a great job.

I told her that I know talking about Daddy's injury is sometimes uncomfortable, but it's never anything to be ashamed of or embarrassed about.

I reminded her that before Daddy's accident, we didn't know anyone who was paralyzed. We didn't know anyone who used a wheelchair. And that when her classmates ask her questions, it's probably because they've never met anyone who is paralyzed either. And they're curious. And when we answer their questions, we help them understand a little about what it's like to live our life.

I told her I was proud of her.

* * * * *

Jeff and I - like so many other parents - want to prepare our child the best way we can for life. We want to use our experiences to help her with hers.

But when it comes to living with paralysis, all three of us - Jeff, myself, and Evie - all experience it from a different perspective.

Jeff and I don't know what it's like to have a paralyzed dad. But Evie does. And this is one area where we have to let her take the lead.

And she may not be able to see it now, but she teaches us something new every day.