I am four feet, eleven and three-quarter inches tall. There is NO DENYING the fact that I am short -- I get it -- in fact, shave a few inches off my height and I'd qualify to join the ranks of "little people." I'm not in any sort of denial, which is why I made it a point to ALWAYS date guys who were over six feet tall. I figured if I married a guy with height, I'd give my kids a fair shake at being far taller than me.
Then I met my husband, who SWORE he was 5'9″ (which I figured was just two inches shy of my six-foot requirement, so I let it slide). And short of measuring him with a yardstick (I checked his Driver's license to confirm his legal height, which has led me to realize that the good old DMV will put ANY height you tell them on your driver's license, so that barometer is essentially useless), I had to take him at his word. But the truth is, when I met my husband, I was smitten. After our first date, which lasted six hours, I pretty much knew he was my lobster.
I guess the whole height requirement, and any other strict guidelines you have when you meet someone you instantly feel a chemical reaction with, flies out the window -- that is, until you have kids and your mother tells you that your son is not growing as tall as he should be and maybe it's time to take him to the doctor to see if he might qualify for growth hormone shots.
Yes, my little, sweet boy, like me, is the shortest one in his class. He's also scrappy and funny and I've NEVER even hinted to him that he's anything but perfect in every way.
I really don't want to be one of those mothers. I don't want to care about how tall my kid might grow. I don't want to even fathom having to inject him with shots that maybe, just maybe, might give him an extra three inches of height. I also believe that our children are products of the way we speak to them and the confidence we instill in them. For instance, if I don't harp on the fact that my son is of short stature and don't make it part of his daily vocabulary, perhaps his stature won't define him.
I want to believe that our physical appearances don't reflect who we are and that those who will love and appreciate him will do so because of his spirit, his personality and his infectious grin.
But I also know that we don't live in a fairytale world. The real world is a silicon and botox enhanced one, where appearance is unfortunately a huge part of what we base our initial judgments on.
Like it or not, short men, no matter how smart, exceptional or even how much money they have, are judged more harshly because of their short stature. And why wouldn't I want to give my kid the best possible start in a world that is rife with so many opportunities for disappointments? It make sense -- but at what cost?
Would you give your child growth hormone shots?