1 in 10,000

I had tons of love and support while I was growing up and, generally, I was pretty much accepted.  I wasn’t treated any differently from the other kids in my family or my school.  I was just Denise.  I wasn’t different.  

When I was in school, kids called me Cabbage Patch face (I still don't get it).  

But I wasn’t different. 

One time, I was looking at old family pictures with my cousin and her two daughters.  When we came across a picture of me as a little girl my cousin’s younger daughter exclaimed – what was wrong with your face? 

But I wasn’t different. 

A few years ago, another cousin was on the cusp of starting his own family.  I happened to be in earshot when he asked my mom - what exactly is Denise’s syndrome?  

But I wasn’t different. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

But I was.

I still am. 

And so are you.  And so is the guy waiting for mass transit.  And the lady down the street. 

We’re all different in our own way.  Does this make me feel better?  Honestly, not all the time.  But I don’t feel as different anymore.  And that's a big step in the right direction.