Eight years ago, on a cold winter’s night,
We welcomed our princess with joy and delight
We cooed and we cuddled, and did all baby things,
Experiencing the joy that a new infant brings.
Though she was missing an arm, we were totally at peace,
Our newest addition was so incredibly zees.
We felt no sadness, just acceptance and love,
And a firm commitment to help her rise above.
Yet there was a small niggle, a smidgen of doubt,
If she’s missing an arm, how will her life turn out?
We thought about milestones, each upcoming stage,
And wondered if she’d ever be on par for her age.
Would she manage to crawl, would her skills make the grade?
Or would she forever remain somewhat delayed?
Would she comb her own hair, tie her own laces?
Or would she be dependent on people’s good graces?
But we didn’t ruin our simchah with despair or desperation,
We focused instead on means of compensation.
“So she’ll skip the crawling stage,” I pragmatically said.
“And who says she needs laces? We’ll use Velcro instead!
She won’t sew or crochet? So she’ll sing and she’ll dance!
Her limitations won’t limit, we’ll give her every chance!
There are so many accommodations in our world today,
Endless options to do things a different way!”
People informed us of advanced innovations,
That help people excel beyond their limitations.
To avoid tiny buckles, there are watches with elastic,
And a winter coat with magnets—no zippers! Fantastic!
They market modified cutlery, and a buttoning tool,
Pedal-operated scissors—it all sounded so cool!
And as I heard about each one, I mentally filed it away,
Certain that my daughter would depend on them someday.
We didn’t dare dream that she’d be capable enough,
To go without shortcuts and do all the normal stuff.