When my partner and I first looked into adopting from China, we were informed that the wait could take around six years. It felt like our hopes were dashed before they even took flight. However, our adoption agency introduced us to the special needs program, which offered a significantly shorter wait. My initial reaction? A resounding no.
The concept of “special needs” was daunting to me. It felt like something you navigated only if you had no other choice, a sentiment often echoed in the saying, “God doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle.” I knew there were families willing to embrace special needs children, but I didn’t see myself among them. Yet, before we bolted from the idea, we decided to delve deeper into what we were potentially refusing.
The conditions classified within the China special needs adoption program vary widely, from minor issues, like a missing thumb, to more complex situations such as Spina Bifida. Families are encouraged to choose the medical conditions they feel equipped to parent. After thorough research and some deep breaths, we took the plunge into the realm of special needs adoption.
It can be surprising to realize that certain cultures categorize minor physical differences as special needs. I’m not suggesting we critique cultural perspectives, but understanding this viewpoint could reshape your own beliefs about whether special needs adoption might be right for your family.
Early in our adoption process, we received a list detailing various needs and conditions, requiring us to indicate our openness to each. Among these was the term “limb differences.” Unsure of its meaning, I turned to the internet for clarity. I learned that limb differences can refer to congenital conditions, where a child is born with absent or malformed limbs, or may result from injury or disease leading to amputation. The origins of these congenital differences are often unknown. After some reflection, I thought, “We can manage that” and checked the box.
A few weeks later, I found myself captivated by a photograph of a seventeen-month-old boy with a “congenital hand abnormality.” I couldn’t help but fall in love with him.
Fast forward to today, my son is now four years old and has a limb difference: he’s missing his right hand, which has a small stub and four little nubs. As any mom can relate, phrases like “Get down!” and “Don’t touch that!” are part of my daily vernacular. But honestly, he’s just like any other spirited little boy. He climbs ladders, catches balls, and manages to open anything he’s not supposed to have. He’s learned how to hold his own against his brother, snatch toys from peers, and tease them until they cry (oh boy, we’re working on that). Recently, he got into trouble for using my Kindle as a baby, coating it in lotion. I’ve used many descriptors for my energetic son (some even containing four letters), but “handicapped” has never been one of them.
My son is growing up creatively adapting his surroundings to suit his unique anatomy. While buttons and shoelaces can be tricky, he’s already mastered push-ups at this young age. I have no doubt that my little dynamo will achieve whatever he sets his sights on.
The most challenging aspect of raising a child with a limb difference is managing my own responses to the stares and comments from onlookers. Children are naturally curious and often want to ask questions like “Why?” or “Is that an owie?” Most adults quickly grasp the congenital nature of his condition. Kids take my simple explanation, “This is how he’s made,” and continue on with their play, scaling jungle gyms or trying to reclaim their toys from my little thief.
Occasionally, we encounter rudeness or ignorance. I once heard a young boy exclaim at a loud volume, “OMG, did you see that kid’s hand?” A woman on the bus gasped as if she’d seen something mythical and remarked, “How gross.” It’s a struggle to remain calm and not unleash a verbal reprimand or trip them (oops, just kidding). While my instinct is to defend my child against such thoughtless remarks, I refrain. If I correct every inconsiderate comment, my son won’t learn how to navigate a world that can sometimes be unkind.
Yes, people will notice that he’s a bit different. He’ll need to find his own way to handle comments, especially the negative ones. We all wish for an easy path for our children, but it’s tough to watch him stand out when all he wants is to fit in. His limb difference isn’t always the first thing people notice, but reactions can range from indifference to friendly curiosity. Although I haven’t witnessed any teasing yet, I suspect that day is on the horizon, likely when I’m not around (kids have a knack for that).
There’s no “cure” for limb differences. Perhaps one day technology will allow for the growth of a hand in a lab, but we’re not there yet. I can’t identify a single thing he’s unable to do that a prosthetic would enhance, so we’re postponing that decision until he’s older. He has the option of a cosmetic, semi-functional prosthetic when he’s ready. Ultimately, we want him to make those choices himself.
He refers to his little hand as just that—his little hand. Currently, he’s more than happy to show it off and say, “It’s just my little hand,” before swiftly changing the topic to complimenting someone’s dress or asking if they have candy. He has a charming way about him. Sometimes, we affectionately call it his “lucky fin,” reminiscent of Nemo. This is how I engage with children about his limb difference. I’m grateful that Disney has introduced relatable characters with limb differences, as otherwise, we might have been limited to Captain Hook, who isn’t exactly a role model.
For more insights on this topic, check out this blog post here. If you’re considering home insemination, a reputable option is available at Make a Mom, offering quality insemination syringe kits. Additionally, Resolve provides excellent resources for pregnancy and family planning.
In summary, parenting a child with a limb difference is a unique journey filled with challenges and joys. It’s essential to approach each experience with an open heart and mind, ready to educate others while nurturing our children’s confidence and resilience.
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