One thing my parents did right was not coddling me because of my hand difference:

I did not have special chores to make things easier
I was never told, “you won’t be able to do that”
My activities weren’t restricted out of fear of injury or failure

Instead of I was encouraged to try anything and everything.  I figured out how to master the monkey bars in elementary school, despite having little grip and no ability to grasp the bar with my right hand.  I was involved in multiple sports.  I started Martial Arts at the age of 4, earning my black belt in my early teens.  I played deck hockey with my brother, was a 4-sport athlete in Middle School, and played varsity soccer since freshman year in High School and was eventually recruited to play at an Ivy League university.

There was plenty of trial and error.  I wasn’t restricted by my parents from participating any activity due to my hand, but that does not me I excelled in every activity.

In fourth grade, we started musical instruments.  I tried the violin.  I played it all year, painfully go.  The maneuvering required to hold the bow in my right hand was extremely painful.  I never complained though.  I never sought special treatment.  Asking to change instruments mid-year never occurred to me.  This is what I selected, this is what I’m going to play.   The next year I switched to the Trombone.

Push-ups were a required part of P.E. in elementary school, as were attempts at pull-ups.  Missing my right pec muscle put me at a great disadvantage with pushups, and the lack of said muscle along with my limited right-hand grip made pull-ups a tremendous challenge.  It was more like a single arm pull up with some very slight assistance by my right arm.  But I never complained.  I never asked to be excused from that activity.  I jumped in, did the best I could and accepted the reality that my scores on pull-ups were not at all competitive with my classmates.  Oh well.

Push-ups were also a daily part of my karate training.  Every class began with push-ups, sometimes up to 100.  When I tested for my black belt at the age of 15 I was required to do 100 push-ups in a row before moving on to additional conditioning.  My Sensei certainly knew my hand was different, we made plenty of adaptations for that.  But she never knew I was missing my chest muscles.  I didn’t ask for an exception to the testing.  I simply did what every other black belt candidate was required to do.

As a senior in High School, debating between the school I attended, University of Pennsylvania, and the United States Naval Academy, I took the required physical testing for the U.S.N.A.  Administered by my high school soccer coach, I did the running, jumping and sit ups barely breaking a sweat, but once again was greatly disadvantaged when it came to the required upper body portion of the test.  Asking for an exception was out of the question.  If I desired the privilege and prestige of being a Midshipman, I was going to take and pass the same physical tests that every other Midshipman was required to take and pass.   My hand and my muscle issues were mine to overcome, not to request special treatment for.  I either do it and pass (which I did) or I try and fail and eliminate the Naval Academy as an option.

I am grateful that I was never allowed to use my challenges as an excuse for mediocre performance or to request special exceptions.  I am grateful that I was allowed to explore for myself both my interests and my skills.  I am grateful that I wasn’t told the silliness that is so often told to children these days, “you can do whatever you want to do and you can be whatever you want to be in life.”

The reality is I would never be a master violinist.  Sure, I could have chosen to stay with the violin.  I could have become the best violinist that I could be, but it was never going to be the best violinist.

In my elementary gym class I was never going to hold the record for number of pull-ups.  Sure, I could seek to improve on my own ability and set my own personal record, but I was never going to surpass the ability of some of my peers who had phenomenal upper body strength AND two hands that worked.

My skill set is unique to me.  Soccer was a strength and my Poland Syndrome did not impact my ability to control the soccer ball with my feet.  I was never going to have the longest throw in, but that is okay; I left that to my teammate who could clear half the field with hers.

I will never seek to be an acception.  I will forever seek to excel at my strengths and improve my weaknesses.  I will forever strive to continually become a better version of Melissa, and will embrace whatever that looks like.  I’m okay with the reality that I cannot accomplish anything and everything in this life.  And I much prefer to life in reality than to coddle myself with fantasy.  There are many things I will never be, either by choice or by gifting.  But what I am I desire to be more of and better at.