I stunted my son’s growth on purpose.
That’s the short version. The medical term is growth attenuation. And while it’s not something many people talk about or even know exists, it’s something I decided to move forward with for my son, Jace.
I didn’t have a lot of support in the decision. But I had my reasons. Deep, layered, loving reasons.
We were wrapping up one of Jace’s many doctor appointments with his endocrinologist. It was a rough day for me physically. My body was hurting. But I pushed through because, if we missed that appointment, it would be months before we could reschedule. If you know, you know.
I was doing my best to mask the pain, but I guess I wasn’t doing too great. I had my back to the doctor, trying to get Jace dressed and back into his wheelchair. Usually, the doctor leaves the room by then to give us privacy. But he stayed.
When I turned around, he gently asked me a question that broke me wide open:
“Have you thought about what the future looks like?”
That was it. The floodgates opened.
It wasn’t just the physical pain at that point. It was the emotional weight. The fear. The questions I wrestled with in silence:
How long will I be able to do this?
Who will care for Jace when I no longer can?
Am I wrong for not wanting him to outlive me?
And what if he doesn’t, could I survive that grief?
I poured it all out. No filter. No sugarcoating.
That’s when he told me about growth attenuation. I had never heard of it. He said it wasn’t widely practiced and came with a lot of opposition. But he gave me reading material. Told me to do my research. Think about it. Pray about it.
And I did. I filled a notebook with pros and cons. And at the end of the day, I chose what was best for us. For me and Jace. Because this is our life. Our journey. And our reality.
I’m not married (though I still hope for that one day). But hope doesn’t change my now.
I’m 5’3″ on a good day. I live with chronic back pain, lupus, and fibromyalgia. Jace requires total care. And he’s already stronger than me even if he doesn’t know it yet.
Lifting him safely is a constant concern. And one of his favorite places to be is still curled up in his mama’s lap. I want to keep making that possible for as long as I can.
Growth attenuation meant we could extend those moments.
It also meant:
- Less specialized equipment (which is expensive)
- Less clothing turnover (because he’s not growing out of them)
- Youth-sized shoes and children’s clothes (aka cheaper and this boy loves to be styled!)
- And more physical manageability for me as his sole caregiver on a single income
I met with the hospital’s ethics doctor, who represented Jace’s voice. He gave consent. He gave support. We moved forward.
We stopped treatment about a year ago. Jace is still strong. But he remains at a functional height. And every day, I’m reminded that we made the right decision for our family.
No, I don’t regret it. Not one bit.
This was our choice. And it was made from a place of love, faith, and long-term care, not fear.
So yeah… I stunted my son’s growth. On purpose.