Chat – 25 July 2019

PERHERO!’

37

we shrugged off the stares.

But, as Lottie got older, and

tried to grab things, her

struggles became apparent.

At a childminder’s house

once, a little girl started to

scream, pointing at Lottie.

‘What’s wrong with her? Her

hand is missing!’ she cried.

It upset Lottie.

‘Some people are born

with no sight or no

hearing, everyone

is different,’

I explained to

her at home.

‘This makes

you special.’

When

her brother

Ruben was

born, in

February

2016, Lottie

absolutely

doted

on him.

As the

years

went

on, we

learnt

the things that Lottie could

and couldn’t do.

She couldn’t do up buttons,

fasten zips, carry a tray in the

school canteen.

All seemingly simple tasks

• but for Lottie, they were hard.
  ‘I wish I had two hands,’
  she’d say, frustrated.
  Watching Ruben grab things,
  hold a toy, we could see the
  sadness in Lottie’s eyes.
  ‘It won’t stop you,’
  Natalie told her,
  determined that
  our girl didn’t
  get down.
  But it was
  tough for her.
  At the
  playpark,
  Lottie was
  sometimes
  called nasty
  names by
  other kids.
  Natalie
  and I told
  her to be
  strong,

that she was special.

Sports and swimming

lessons were a challenge

for Lottie, as well.

We found her some eating

aids, looked into bionic hands.

But the price tag for them was

way beyond our reach.

Then, while researching, we

discovered a charity called

Team UnLimbited, a

collaboration by

Drew Murray and

Stephen Davies.

Like Lottie,

Stephen was born

without a hand.

Drew built a

hand for him –

then, together,

they’d started

making 3D plastic

prosthetic hands

for others.

Excited, we

contacted them.

‘You can have

any design you

want,’ they said.

‘Rainbows

and glitter!’

Lottie squealed.

Funded

purely by

donations, Lottie got

her new arm for free.

Within weeks, in April

this year, the prosthetic arrived.

Attached to her elbow, the

arm had fingers that Lottie

could use to grip objects.

At once, Lottie could grip

a paper cup or piece of paper.

And at school, for the first

time, Lottie could carry her

lunch tray to her table.

Within days of getting

and using the prosthetic, her

confidence soared.

‘I’m a superhero!’ she

cheered to us, waving her arm

in the air.

Now, Lottie can throw a ball,

brush her Barbie’s hair, draw

detailed pictures.

We hope that, when she’s

older, we’ll be able to afford a

proper prosthetic arm for her.

But, for now, Lottie is your

typical little girl, regardless

of her disability.

She loves dressing up as

Disney princesses and playing

with her dolls.

Of course, Natalie and

I worry about the future.

Will she be seriously bullied?

And there are tinges of

sadness – she’ll never be able

to wear a wedding ring in the

normal way.

But we’re always thinking

of the positives.

‘If you go for a manicure,

it’ll be half price,’ we chuckle.

Now, we’re

building her

confidence as

much as possible.

Preparing her

or whatever life

hrows at her.

Lottie, 5, is a

lever, beautiful

ittle girl.

And we want

people to be more

understanding.

To help make our

precious daughter

a confident

young woman.

So don’t stare at

her – ask us about

Lottie, and about

her arm.

We’ll explain

hercondition–

entellyouthat

herearesomany

moreinteresting

ndspecialthings

boutherthanthat.

What a difference

her pretty pink

hand has made

All smiles! Natalie

with Ruben, and

me with Lottie