Emotions come in phases, they ebb and flow. Right now my emotional phase, in regard to Hero’s limb difference, is undoubtedly ‘over-sensitive’. As someone who will traditionally avoid conflict at all costs, even if seriously offended, I’ve actually found myself snapping once or twice recently.

My biggest bug bear at the moment? Phrases along the lines of: “But she doesn’t know any different!” or “But she doesn’t know she’s missing anything!”

The latest occasion came as I was telling someone, in response to a query as to how she was getting on “with her hand“, about how Hero had just scaled a 6ft ladder that was far too big for her. Luckily for me I didn’t witness the assent, I’m not sure I could have resisted running over to hover if I had! But I saw the end result. I saw her pride. I was amazed that she’d managed to get up that ladder at her age. The fact that she only had one hand was a secondary consideration.

In response to this, the person I was talking to interrupted me to explain that, for Hero, it wasn’t actually a huge achievement. “She doesn’t know any different!” they added.  Luckily, I do so love being told by people with no experience of limb difference exactly how things are with my child. As, I’m sure, every parent does.

Essentially, the statements are true, right? Hero wasn’t born with a hand and then went on to lose it.  She has no physical memory of having two hands.  Consciously, she doesn’t appear to know there’s anything different. And she sure wasn’t half as impressed with her assent as I was. I don’t think that, consciously, she even knows that she’s adapting – which I’m sure is what people are trying to say when they assert that, “she doesn’t know”.  But let me assure you that, subconsciously, she knows all too well.

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Mummy is meant to be holding my hand… not taking photos!

We’ve been struggling with this particular platitude of late following more than a few incidents where Hero has demonstrated that she’s actually incredibly aware that there is something different about her right hand.

We’ve watched her reach out to take something with her little hand, only to find that she can’t. These moments are always followed by a hesitation and a curious look at her hand to find out why it isn’t working the way her brain was expecting it to. We’ve often seen her try to manipulate an object as if she has fingers there, only to pause in puzzlement again.

She never had fingers. Yet clearly her brain, in its most primal form, thinks there should be two hands there. How else would awesome bionics such as the Hero Arm from Open Bionics work? How can you use nerve endings and muscles to control an arm that was never ever there? Unless the brain was hard wired to control something on the end of that arm, unless the brain still thinks there’s something there to be controlled.

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‘Now where did I leave the dog?’

When you watch your child adapting in real time and problem solving obstacles she isn’t even aware of, almost every day, it’s a tad galling to be told by someone that she isn’t actually achieving any of the things you think she is. Her brain somehow just knew there wasn’t something there and it has managed to reprogram itself accordingly. That she doesn’t need to adapt because she’s never known any different. When she’s older, I don’t doubt that she won’t remember ever having had to make these changes or work through these problems. I’ve no doubt that she’ll say herself that she’s never known any different.

I’m also not for a second trying to imply that she’s finding life hard. She’s absolutely thriving! You wouldn’t know most of the time that she even had a difference. There are hurdles, of course, but she crosses those hurdles so fast you’d barely notice the change. But she is crossing hurdles and I’m a bit sensitive about someone with no direct knowledge telling me categorically that she isn’t.

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‘Too tall for me? I don’t think so!’

For us, as her parents, through watching these early developments we’ve seen each stage of her trial and error. We’re witnessing her brain rewriting the programme to suit the tools that it has, rather than the ones it thinks it should. It’s a fascinating process. It’s wonderful and humbling to see. But being told by some random stranger that, actually, nothing you’ve witnessed in your child’s development is true is a tad… irritating.

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One thought on “The joy of being told how it is: “She doesn’t know any different!”

  1. I have to say, I think one of the things I like most about this post is how it reveals that you are very, very attuned to your daughter’s inner world–which leads to something even more important: Hero is her own person, and you as her mother grasp that and love that. She’s going to grow up great, having someone who understands her so well!

    Liked by 1 person

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