It’s funny how life introduces you to people exactly when you need them. Call it fate, serendipity, or just timing, but some connections are meant to happen. Shelly and I found each other in a way that might have seemed unconventional at the time, yet now feels perfectly natural. Together, we’ve built a space to inspire others—kids and adults with limb differences—to live boldly, without fear or insecurities. Our mission is simple: show that a limb difference doesn’t limit what you can do. You just have to believe in yourself and embrace the life you were made to live.
Sarah’s Story
Being born with a limb difference has shaped my entire life. From my very first moments, I had to be a fighter, and I believe that fighting spirit has guided me to turn what could have been seen as a challenge into a source of positivity. I was born in 1987, three days before Christmas, one of twin babies, but unlike my sibling, I came into the world without a left hand and only a thumb on my right.
I was rushed to the NICU, where I stayed over a month before finally coming home. My mom rarely talks about those early days, but as a mother myself now, I can only imagine the heartache of leaving one baby at home while making hour-long trips to the hospital for the other.
Eventually, I came home and had to learn life just like any other baby—crawling, walking, feeding myself. Every milestone was a challenge I faced head-on. By age five, I remember learning to tie my shoes and ride a bike. At first, these tasks felt impossible, but with determination and guidance, I mastered them.
My parents tried prosthetics for me, but I found they were more of a hindrance than a help—a fact that became very clear when one of my prosthetics took a swim in a kiddie pool. Thankfully, I had a mom who refused to let me give up. She taught me to believe in myself, often reminding me, like Thomas the Train, “I think I can, I think I can.” That mindset, combined with my inherited independence and strong will, shaped me into the person I am today.
Growing up, I loved doing all the things other kids did—singing, dancing, rollerblading, riding go-karts, horseback riding, playing volleyball, and even simple chores like folding laundry or weeding the garden. My limb difference never held me back. Friends were never a problem, though my report cards often noted, “Pleasure to have in class, but Sarah talks too much.” I was a social butterfly, and if anyone asked, I’d simply say, “I was born this way.”
Of course, there were a few kids who teased me, but I learned to let it roll off my back. By middle school, my motto became: “If you don’t like me because of my hands, that’s your loss.” Still, growing up with a limb difference and rarely seeing someone like me could feel isolating. While I had friends, they didn’t fully understand my experience. It wasn’t until over 20 years later, when I joined a Facebook group for people with Amniotic Band Syndrome (ABS)—which I have on my left arm, and Symbrachydactyly on my right hand—that I met my soul sister, Shelly.
Between high school and meeting Shelly, I had life experiences everyone does. I experienced heartbreak, learned about self-worth, and eventually met my husband, who had been a friend. He loves me as I am, helping with everyday tasks and making me feel fully seen. I wear my wedding ring proudly on my one thumb, and together we’ve raised a child, teaching them kindness and acceptance, just as my limb difference taught me. Professionally, I work in the medical field, a role requiring fast typing and multitasking. Over the years, people have expressed amazement at my abilities, reinforcing that my limb difference is inspiring, not limiting.
Shelly’s Story
Being born with a limb difference has defined my journey, shaping my character and resilience. My motto has always been: “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Yet self-acceptance took time. It wasn’t until my son was born five years ago with a rare eye condition that I found motivation to confront my insecurities and model self-love for him. Hearing others’ stories became a powerful source of strength, reminding me that I was never truly alone.
Childhood brought its challenges. I vividly remember a bullying incident in elementary school where a child called me a “freak” loudly enough for the gym to hear. Moments like that left lasting scars, leaving me panicked, questioning myself, and feeling isolated. Sleepovers in middle school were equally tough; struggling with certain dance moves, I wondered if anyone even wanted me there. Yet, one friend’s encouragement taught me that my perceived limitations weren’t about me—they were about mindset.
Even casual comments from others could sting. An old friend of my parents once said, “She will never find one because of her arm,” crushing my confidence. These experiences, along with adolescent anxieties, made me question my worth, but now, nine years into marriage, I know my limb difference has never defined my capabilities.
For much of my life, I carried jackets over my arm even in summer, ashamed to acknowledge my difference. Yet over the past five years, I’ve embraced it, discovering strength, resilience, and compassion. Being born with a limb difference teaches you persistence. I’ve learned to do everything I wanted—from tying shoes and braiding hair to skiing, horseback riding, and raising children. Prosthetics never felt right for me, but using my natural abilities, I’ve mastered life on my terms.
Meeting Sarah transformed my perspective. Despite living across the country, our shared experiences and bond created an unbreakable friendship. We’ve supported each other through challenges, from everyday obstacles to humiliating discrimination at a popular amusement park. Together, we realized our stories could inspire others, and we launched a social media page to show that a limb difference is just that—a difference, not a disability.
Our Story
In October 2016, a post from Shelly appeared on our ABS Facebook page. I responded, and our connection was instant. We began messaging, then talking for hours on the phone. We shared a love of music, nature, hiking, and family—so many similarities that it felt like meeting a long-lost soul sister.
In 2018, after two years of long-distance friendship, I flew across the country to meet Shelly in person. That week was unforgettable—Miranda Lambert concert, roller coasters, beach trips, matching sunflower tattoos, and a tearful goodbye at the airport. In 2019, we noticed social media promoting the idea that all limb differences should be labeled as “disabled.” We knew differently, and so we created Inspiring Difference, to help kids embrace their differences and live life boldly.
We’ve faced challenges—physical, mental, and emotional—but we know a limb difference is never a limitation. Our hope is that kids and adults alike see themselves as capable, strong, and enough, just as they are. Through our stories, we aim to empower others to embrace their differences and realize that a life without limits is possible.
