I don't talk about little guys acheiria (born minus a hand) much. To be honest, I rarely think about it anymore. I do have feelings, though, and certain memories that evoke emotion at times. Some of it ties into my Aspergers.
I remember when the ultrasound technician left the room to go get the doctor. I don't remember the exact words, but at twenty weeks I was told, "we can't find his left hand." Even today, the memory hits me like an emotional thunderbolt. My Aspie brain took a few minutes to try and process this very new and completely unheard of information. (Yes, in my experiences, I had never heard of children being born without limbs, strange as that may sound. I had never personally seen a child with a limb difference.)
I was unable to visualize what his arm might possible look like.....and that was the issue that bothered me the most. I am a veryvery visual person. If I can't see it and/or touch it, I am anxiously confused and cannot grasp the concept. The ultrasound techs would continuously try and get me a visual during my frequent tests....but I just had no picture to go with.
I was distraught and grief-stricken. I couldn't comprehend a one handed child....it was hard to think my son would not...look anywhere near normal.
I felt bad. I was fairly certain that having a differently abled child was far beyond what I could handle.
I don't think I ever blamed myself for his difference. My hours, days and weeks of research told me that there was no known cause.
See.....let's bare soul here.....I had always been....scared...nervous, uncomfortable around children with disabilities. I could work in nursing homes with the elderly, but my one shift stint in the children's ward was more than I could handle. I guess I could accept older people with health and disability issues, but I couldn't handle the thought of a child being handicapped. It hurt me so....I couldn't bear it.
Now I was going to have a baby with a birth defect.
I remember when he was born...first seeing him....I wasn't really looking at his left, I just wanted to know if he was heathy. Holding him, after everyone else left the room, I opened the blanket to see. I saw an arm, a rather skinny, stick-like arm, without a hand. I was scared. I pulled his arm to my face and kissed the fleshy ball-like end. Anytime I get nervous, scared or uncomfortable about the end of his arm, we affectionately call "Palm" (he has a Hand and a Palm:) I caress or kiss Palm. It's just who he is.
The first time I washed up, after he was born, I remember standing at the sink, soaping, rubbing my two hands together, thinking....how fair is this? That I can wash both my hands when my son will never be able to do this?
My son has grown into a very confident young man. He doesn't hide palm. He loves and accepts exactly who he is.
Sometimes...it still hurts me. Once in awhile he gets teased or stared at a little too long. He usually handles it better than I. It's gotten easier, over the years. You learn not to watch for the stares and how to deflect too many inquiries and yes, mostly, I rarely think about it.
I think I cried every night, for a month or so, after I brought him home. Maybe I felt I was being punished or tested, in reality, I was just being made stronger, muchmuch stronger.
Honestly, I still have moments where I am sad for him and sad for me.
My therapist thinks I have a hard time seeing children hurt or injured because I was so abused. I don't know if I believe it or not. It's just hard...it hurts to see children injured or with birth defects.
I just needed to vent and be honest with myself. Sometimes I still hurt. Sometimes it breaks my heart.
I love him exactly as he is. He is wonder, amazement, and beauty all rolled into one. I wouldn't change him. If he had been born with two hands, he would have been someone completely different. I love him for who he is. He is perfect:)
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