Perpetuating the myth

Perpetuating the myth

I had a bit of a parenting epiphany the other day. There I was, bobbing about in the pool for our second swimming lesson, trying to get Hero to hold onto the side. It was going well; I had lifted her good hand up and she was gripping onto the tiles like a pro. Meanwhile her little arm sat, where it often does, clamped to her side. I was just going with it, I wasn’t encouraging her to use it at all.

As she’s started to develop coordination skills, reaching out for toys (and my glasses, amongst other things!) I’ve been watching as she keeps her little arm by her side, as if it’s tucked away into an invisible pocket.

On the occasions she does use it, usually to capture something between her arms and bring it inevitably to her gaping maw, I’m sure to clap and give her plenty of praise. But do I ever really encourage her to use it?

img_4413
The Wookie reaches out…

Thinking back, still bobbing in the pool and hanging on to the side, I realised that I too seemed to favour her “good” hand. Whenever I offer her toys or something to flail about wildly, I always offer it to her left hand. All of a sudden this seems a little remiss, a little like I’m perpetuating her reluctance to use her right arm.

Her right arm is the furthest thing from useless. So why then, as I stood in the pool with her frilly swim-suited body balanced on my knee, had I not immediately lifted her right arm and held that to the side as well? Of course, she couldn’t grip on with it, but she could definitely rest her arm on the edge for extra support.

When I hand over her favourite circular rattle, why don’t I slip it over her right arm like a bracelet instead of always putting it in her left? Why don’t I dangle toys that side so that she can learn to reach out with her right arm too?

She knows somehow that there is something not quite the same about her little right hand. But if I continue to show the same preference as she does I fear I could end up mirroring and perpetuating her reluctance to use it. If I want to see her be the best that she can be, then I need to start off by showing her all that she can do.

Show her that she can reach.

Show her that she can bash and wallop.

Show her that she can flail it wildly and knock things over.

Next time we’re in the pool I’ll be sure to put the floating ball in front of her right arm and to help her reach with it onto the side. Her little hand might well be the perfect dummy (it’s never out of her mouth when she’s tired!) but it’s the perfect tool for plenty of other things as well and it’s high time we both realised that.

 


If you’ve enjoyed following our journey, please take a moment to vote for us in the UK Blog Awards 2017!

Follow the link below and select the “Health and Social Care + Parenting” category.

http://www.blogawardsuk.co.uk/ukba2017/entries/thoughshebebutlittle2016

votenow-1-trans

Achievements and Aspirations

With eight weeks left to go until the due date our house is filling up with baby paraphernalia, incredibly generously provided by friends and family. We’ve been totally and utterly overwhelmed by the amount we’ve been given, and even though baby isn’t here yet we’re super excited for when it becomes our turn to pass stuff on to the new generation!

I feel really proud knowing that our little girl will be lying on, wearing and playing with things that belonged to her amazing family and friends before her. What could be better?

Amongst all the excitement the jamboree and other issues, Baby’s ‘lucky fin’ has somewhat taken a back seat. We’ve of course got all the normal stuff to be excited and worried about; there was a huge amount of relief, therefore,  when Ben’s best friend fitted our car seat for us. At least if she comes early we’ll actually be allowed to leave the hospital now!

Despite the fact that the hand has taken something of a back seat for us, jumbled in amongst health issues, a house/disaster zone and numerous car woes, we’ve still been unable to avoid comments, messages and links to inspiring videos and testimonials of one-handed people who conquered the world. When something becomes personal to you, you cannot help but notice it everywhere. Last week I was listening to the incredibly talented Nicolas McCarthy on Radio 2, with absolutely no idea that he too was born without his right hand. How utterly strange for me to hear about him now of all times, and to not even have been looking for it! The realisation that having one hand doesn’t exclude you from pursuing a musical instrument at any level was a breath of fresh air. Baby may, of course, be totally hampered by her mother’s intense musical apathy, but at least she has the option we feared she wouldn’t have.

One some days these success stories are wonderful to hear, so why then from time to time do we find all of this focus on one-handed achievements patronising and upsetting?

I think there’s an element there of the fact our little girl is going to be just that, our little girl. Just because she’s missing her right hand doesn’t mean that we’ve suddenly changed our expectations of her attainment. Nor indeed does it mean that we suddenly feel that she will be capable of less. Just because she’s got a small disability does not mean that she now needs to prove herself to us, to her family or to the world by becoming a concert pianist, a paralympian or an international one-handed climber.

Sure, she could do all of those things. Missing a hand never really meant that she could or would achieve any less, despite our initial fears borne of shock. Before we discovered her ‘lucky fin’, as we nurtured dreams of our completely flawless infant, there was no compulsion for people to reassure us that our child could be an international sports star or a world-renowned musician. What would be the need? So why now would we aspire for her to reach to such insanely high heights?

Our dreams for our daughter remain irrevocably and resolutely unchanged. We just want her to be happy. If our little girl can go through life with a sense of value, self-worth and confidence then I couldn’t care less what path she chooses to take in life. She might follow her dad, emulating his drive to achieve and his tireless motivation (so long as there’s no DIY or housework involved!). Then again she might be like me, cruising through life ever distracted by the little things around her. Either way, it’s ok.

If she grows up to be an average human being, not weighed down by medals or accolades, if she’s smiling with genuine happiness, pride and a zest for life, then we’ll be the happiest parents in the world. Please don’t get me wrong. We’ll encourage our daughter to try anything and everything she can or wants to do. Achievement and a desire for success is no bad thing; we’d be over the moon and appallingly proud if she chose to follow that route!

But that doesn’t mean I want to surround her with images of high achievers like some kind of hall of fame she should aspire to in order to justify her existence. There should be no more pressure on her tiny shoulders than any other child would have had as they came into this world. She’s already missing one hand, that’s enough in itself, without feeling like she needs to follow in the footsteps of the trailblazing one-handed greats in a bid to justify or prove her worth.