Growing Pains

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How She's Grown

Born with dwarfism, Caitlin Schroeder decided to undergo a grueling surgery and recovery process to lengthen her legs.

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Jennifer blinks back tears. "She was my child, and I just could not imagine putting her through that."

Caitlin was a tough, athletic kid who fell in love with soccer in third grade. Her short legs made it difficult to keep up with her peers on the field. By sixth or seventh grade, Caitlin's size became more of an issue. Jennifer feared for her daughter's safety. Caitlin's teammates, Jennifer says, "were like monsters compared to her." But Caitlin, who was unafraid of the larger kids, was determined to stay on the team. Impressed by her skills and determination, Caitlin's teammates nicknamed her the "little bulldog." There were other nicknames, too, ones that stung -- even if they were intended to be affectionate, such as "Shorty."

Caitlin's feelings about limb-lengthening fluctuated throughout her childhood. Her parents scheduled informational appointments with Paley once every few years so that their daughter could gradually come to understand the surgical option. The technical explanations were left to the surgeons; Jennifer tried to remain neutral despite her own opposition to the procedure. She worried that Caitlin might choose the surgery because of social pressure and a desire to fit in, and stressed to Caitlin that she should focus on her own thoughts and feelings. Caitlin first began to seriously discuss her options with her family around age 10. Her own internal debate was exhausting, and she remembers the relief of finally making her decision.

"I was in school, and I was thinking about how I'd gone back and forth, and how I could probably do that for a long time," she says. "I was also just thinking, you know, I don't want to be this short forever." Caitlin explains that her choice was shaped by years of careful thought and her cumulative childhood experiences as a dwarf. There is, however, one memory in particular that stands out for her.

It was midsummer, six years ago. Caitlin and her cousin Gabby had spent the day walking around the Six Flags St. Louis amusement park, playing games, shopping and avoiding the big roller coasters; Caitlin didn't like heights, but she also knew that she wouldn't be allowed to ride them even if she wanted to. She was too small.

Still, Caitlin was compelled by the water slide, despite the long line of people winding up a tall flight of stairs. The stairs were daunting to Caitlin -- they looked narrow and rickety, and steps were a strain on her short legs, but the two began a slow, half-hour climb. When they finally got to the top, a man stepped forward to measure their heights. Caitlin felt a wave of anxiety and frustration; why hadn't they measured at the bottom of the steps? The outcome was exactly what she had expected: Gabby was good to go, but Caitlin was too short. Caitlin told her cousin to go ahead without her. After all, they'd waited in line for a long time. Caitlin turned back, facing the long flight of wooden stairs, crammed with people.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing through all the way back down. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.

***

Caitlin sits on the padded vinyl table, waiting. She fidgets, tugging the hem of her beige T-shirt and running her fingers through her hair. Her legs are spread in front of her, in shorts with snaps on each leg so they can fit over the pins and fixator frames.

The physical therapist should be here any minute now, in this room with the jungle mural painted across multicolored walls and smiling plastic stars dangling from the ceiling. Several large physical therapy tables line the walls, and a television plays a "Strawberry Shortcake" DVD.

Caitlin has spent nearly every weekday morning here at Sinai for the last five months, arriving with her mother by 7:45 a.m. after a 90-minute drive from Clinton. Caitlin's recovery and therapy schedule is all-consuming; to accommodate it, Caitlin kept up with her schoolwork from home for the remainder of the spring semester, while Jennifer took unpaid family medical leave and recently decided to leave her job as director of operations at a Washington law firm. She'll look for work again when Caitlin's procedure is over, she says, "but for now, this is our life."

This morning, there is a 4-year-old girl in a purple dress on the table beside Caitlin's, here for her first day of physical therapy after surgery to correct a birth defect. The child's eyes are riveted on the TV as the therapist lifts her left leg, encircled by a fixator frame and lined with metal pins screwed into her bones. The girl's father holds her hand as the therapist gently starts to bend the girl's knee.