I always dreamed of being a mom. As a little girl, I would spend time in my mom’s preschool classroom, talking about how many kids I wanted. Four, five, maybe even six. I thought I was destined to have a big family. My dream started to come true when I had my first baby, Aiden. My pregnancy was smooth, the checkups were normal, and he was born a sweet, chunky, happy baby. I loved being a mom so much that I was eager to have another. Two years later, I was pregnant with our second son, Weston.
I expected the same easy pregnancy I had with Aiden, but things took a very different turn. At my 20-week scan, I noticed right away that the sonographer was not her usual cheerful self. She was quiet, serious, and told me to wait for the doctor to answer my questions. I knew something was wrong. My doctor called soon after and told me, “Your baby’s left hand is missing. We need to send you to a specialist as soon as possible to check if anything else is affected.” She explained that sometimes limb differences can be tied to brain or organ issues.
We got the call on a Friday, and the follow-up appointment wasn’t until Monday morning. That weekend was one of the hardest of my life. The unknown was unbearable. Was my baby healthy? Was more missing than just his hand? My husband and I cried, prayed, and tried to process it all on our own. We didn’t even tell our families at first because we needed time to accept what we had just learned. Still, we promised each other we would stay positive and do whatever it took to give our baby the best life possible.
At the specialist’s office, the medical team was kind and supportive. They explained everything they were looking at during the scan, which gave me some comfort even though I was still anxious. When the doctor came in, he gave us some relief. Weston’s condition was not linked to anything internal. He was missing his fingers, but he did appear to have a thumb. The doctor told us the name of his condition: Symbrachydactyly. It’s a rare congenital difference caused by an interruption in blood supply during the development of the limb. Weston’s left palm is smaller than his right, and his fingers are absent.
With that diagnosis, I leaned on the people around me. My best friend, a sonographer, guided me through every detail and reminded me I wasn’t alone. My brother-in-law, an orthopedic surgeon, told me what to expect and reassured me that surgery could be an option later in life if Weston needed it. My cousin, a doctor who studied advanced imaging, reminded me that Weston was still my baby, perfect in every way. Each person encouraged me and gave me strength.
By the time Weston was born, I wasn’t worried about his hand at all. The only thing I worried about was giving birth during the beginning of COVID and not knowing if my husband would be allowed in the hospital. But when I held Weston and placed my finger in his tiny palm, I knew God had chosen me to be his mom for a reason.
As months passed, I learned about support groups like the Lucky Fin Project, which connects families with children who have limb differences. Through it, I met Katelyn, another mom who lived close by. Her daughter Addison became instant friends with my boys, and Katelyn and I dreamed of starting something bigger to support local families. Later, we connected with Joan, another mom whose daughter was born with a limb difference, and the three of us decided to start an organization together.
It wasn’t always easy to balance three voices and opinions, but our shared passion made it work. Together we created a group that donates books about acceptance to schools, brings in guest speakers with limb differences, and hosts events for kids to meet others like them. We want to change the way people see differences and give families a safe place to connect.
Now, Weston is growing up in a community where he can see role models who look like him. He is surrounded by love, encouragement, and friends who understand. I know he will grow up strong, confident, and capable of anything he sets his mind to.
Looking back, I see that what once felt like a scary diagnosis has become a blessing. It has connected me with incredible people and given me the chance to make a difference. Most of all, it has shown me that Weston is exactly who he is meant to be, and I am exactly who I was meant to be his mom.
