I was born with achondroplastic dwarfism (due to a sporadic mutation) which was a shock to both of my parents, but my mum was the slowest to accept the reality of who I was. In my opinion, she made the well-meaning error of just trying to ignore my difference and pretended that everything was fine. This meant not taking me to dwarfism conventions to meet other people like me, or even looking in to the implications of my condition. As I got older, this approach made me feel confused and, in turn, frustrated. I had no idea if I had a chance of a normal life - I had no level of reassurance. I felt like a considerable part of who I was was being swept under a rug. She was always kind, exceedingly understanding and hardworking as a mother, but also caused this source of unease in me.

In my late teens she really seemed to come around to accepting that part of me, though. I was getting a lot more vocal about stuff and she started to listen to me. She even started standing up for me when strangers were rude to me - instead of hushing me away with her head down.

Now we're very close. I love my mother dearly and she's proud of how far I've come despite both physical and mental barriers (depression). She loves that I inherited her sense of humour and taste in music and we enjoy each other's company more than most other son/mother relationships I know.