Hope Brunner splashes her feet in the water of a small outdoor swimming pool that’s sitting in front of her family’s Maple Valley home.
Hope, 5, speaks to her brother, Wilson, gently, in the way every parent wishes an older sibling would. She sees Wilson squirming and asks if he wants help getting into the pool. Wilson is a Terrible 2-year-old in Ninja Turtles swim trunks, defiant like any other kid his age.
“No, no. I want to get in by myself,” he responds.
Ever since Wilson Brunner was born, people have assumed he’s needed extra help. But that’s just never meshed with his personality.
“If he wants it he does it in his own timing,” said Rebekah Brunner, Wilson and Hope’s mother. “He shows us that he is very capable; very wanting to be successful in life.”
Rebekah and Jason Brunner thought they understood the pregnancy drill when they walked into their physician’s office for a 20 week ultrasound. Would they be having another girl or their first boy? They were discussing names. But then, something happened.
“All of a sudden (the physician) got very quiet and real intrigued with his machinery he was working with,” Rebekah said. “His demeanor definitely changed. I could see that something wasn’t quite right… He said, ‘this baby looks good internally, but this baby doesn’t have any arms or legs.’”
The 30 minute gender reveal turned into a life changing moment.
“We had tears,” Rebekah said. “Not a mourning, but it wasn’t what we were expecting to hear.”
It took weeks for the Brunner parents to fully process the information. They received support from family and their church. There were some who questioned whether the pair would abort the baby.
“That was not an option for us,” Rebekah said. “We chose to rely in our faith and what the Lord had given us — that he was perfectly made the way he would be.”
Wilson was born without a femur or fibula in his right leg or a hip socket on his right side. His lower left side has all of the typical bones, but they are bowed and shifted. Wilson is also missing his radial and ulnar bones in his arms, but has a humerus. He has two small digits at the end of his left stub.
Rebekah initially worried that she was at fault for Wilson’s condition. But she says she followed the recommendations and did nothing different from her first pregnancy. It’s taken her time to accept her own innocence.
The closest diagnosis doctors could find was Robert Syndrome, though a test for the condition came back negative. The family ultimately decided that they didn’t need a specific diagnosis.
“We don’t really care what it is,” Rebekah said. “We love him for what it is.”
The Brunner’s have worked with the South King Early Intervention Program, also known as SKIP, which serves children from birth to 3 years old with a delay in their development. Wilson outgrew his first leg prosthesis and is waiting on two separate pieces from Seattle Children’s Hospital — an orthotic on his left and prosthetic on his right; the equivalent of an ankle brace and a fake leg, Jason said. With the help of some Ninja Turtles tennis shoes, the hope is to get Wilson walking the way that feels most natural to him. Legs or not, swimming lessons are on the horizon.
“He’s surprised us all by everything he’s been able to do,” Jason said.
Linda Thompson, Wilson’s physical therapist at SKIP, said she provided some early intervention, but hasn’t been needed much. She called Wilson one of the brightest little boys she’s met. She says that it’s not that he is stubborn as much as he is determined.
“Wilson is just incredibly resilient and a bright, bright little boy,” she said. “And his family does a remarkable job of giving him opportunities to do things himself. And that is what he has done.”
Thompson said Jason and Rebekah empower Wilson rather than enable him. That, she says, has helped him find his own way.
“He is not to be stopped,” Thompson said. “He has a drive to be able to do whatever he sets his mind to. In his lifetime I think he and his family will teach a lot of people.”
Rebekah and Jason originally assumed that Wilson at 2 years old would be much different than their first child. However, the hard lesson has been that Wilson’s limbless body has been a more difficult concept to them than to Wilson himself.
The parents figured they’d need to move to a new home without stairs. Wilson climbs the two flights with ease, hopping on his butt the whole way. They also thought Wilson would need a service dog for things like standing and mobility. Instead, Wilson treats Tank the German Shepard like a loving companion in the same way his fully limbed sister does. No help required.
Before Wilson was born, the pair road-tripped to Oregon to meet Nick Vujicic, an Australian man born without any arms or legs who is a motivational speaker and Christian evangelist. Vujicic not only speaks about bullying and his battle with depression and suicide at a young age, but is a role model like few others in Wilson’s position. Despite being, for all intents and purposes, a square torso with a head and feet, Vujicic can swim, surf, type, walk and golf. He is also married with a child.
The interaction helped the couple realize their son still had limitless possibilities.
With the help of a stool, Wilson scoots on and off the furniture with relative ease. He can throw and kick balls, color, and climb obstacles in the park. He uses his mouth, chin and the corner of his jaw more than most. He also uses his foot as an extra hand at times.
“He can show you there is an alternative rout to whatever he is trying to do,” Rebekah said.
Wilson plays on his mom’s iPad, picking his favorite songs from the “Frozen” soundtrack, shouting all the words to “Let it go” that he knows. He also sings along to “Ninja Rap” from the “Ninja Turtles 2” movie.
“I think he’s got some kind of musical future potentially,” Rebekah said. “It just seems like an interest at the moment.”
Before a speaking engagement in Enumclaw last year, Vujicic stopped by the Brunner’s home and met Wilson, hanging out for three or four hours. Vujicic and Wilson rolled on the floor together and he answered more of the family’s questions.
Even with the support, one of the biggest difficulties for Jason and Rebekah has been coping with how the outside world looks at their son.
Rebekah said her current stage is that of a “Mama Bear” mentality — on the lookout for people who stare or judge through facial
expressions. She understands that the social norms on this issue can be tricky and that most people don’t know how to act. Nobody actually approached the pair to ask about Wilson’s condition until he was around 1 year old. At this age, Wilson doesn’t realize his differences, or at least can’t verbally express it. Jason admits he gets annoyed and frustrated at times since he knows his son can’t yet stand up for himself.
“If you’re curious, just ask,” Jason says.
Patrice Briggs, community relations with the Children’s Therapy Center, said SKIP served about 2,800 children last year, with conditions that range from Down syndrome to Spina Bifida, with around 300 coming from the Maple Valley, Black Diamond and Ravensdale area. Briggs said it is common for parents to feel isolated.
“It is a difficult thing that parents with special needs face,” Briggs said. “We do see that all the time, but we try to empower those parents to help their kids.”
Therapists at SKIP offered suggestions for the family and helped set goals. Many of the tips involved not coddling Wilson and are aimed at letting him gain semblances of independence. The therapists also attempted to modify utensils for Wilson. To eat yogurt, they would fasten a spoon to one of his little digits with a hair band.
“He has nothing to do with that,” Rebekah said. “If it’s not his terms it’s not gonna work. I just give him a toddler spoon and he has figured out how to use it and turn it around.”
Seattle Children’s Hospital offers clinics for children with upper or lower limb differences. At this point, Rebekah feels the socials may be more beneficial to she and her husband than Wilson, who plays just fine with the neighbor kids.
Rebekah said the hardest, but best thing she has learned so far is the ability to let go.
“If he falls, he falls,” Rebekah said. “You have to let them fall and get back up and learn. Just like with anything. We don’t see him any differently than our other child.”
Back at the pool, Wilson tries to open the cap of Jason’s water bottle. He finally gives up and asks for help. Jason agrees, so long as he doesn’t pour it out. Wilson nods and, of course, immediately pours the water into the pool. Jason grabs the bottle and gives Wilson a pinch. He cries and scoots into mom’s legs.
Typical kid.
