Born a Little Twisted (and That’s Okay)

I was born in Ohio in 1989 — the third of six siblings. But my arrival came with a surprise no one saw coming. Not long after my momma started pushing, the doctors realized something was wrong. Turns out, my umbilical cord had hogtied my limbs before I ever took my first breath. The doctor took one look at me and counted me out. He told my mom I probably wouldn’t make it through the night. And if by some miracle I did, I’d almost certainly have severe learning disabilities. Within hours, I was transferred to a hospital better equipped to handle my needs. A few days later, the doctors finally told my mom that her little alien baby actually had Arthrogryposis.

Apparently, Momma was terrified. I have no idea why — I had everything under control. I just needed to make my grand entrance by adding a little flair. When she heard the diagnosis, she didn’t fully understand what it meant. All she knew was that her tiny, twisted-up baby was alive, and that was enough. The road ahead looked uncertain.

How could she tell her two older daughters their baby sister wouldn’t be coming home right away? What would my future look like? How “normal” could it possibly be? Those were the questions everyone silently asked but didn’t dare say out loud. My mom worried about everything — how I’d go to school, make friends, live independently, or even take care of myself. The doctors painted a picture that looked more like survival than living.

As the days turned into weeks, I started proving them wrong one small milestone at a time. Every breath I took, every movement I made, was a quiet rebellion against what the world expected.

I was twelve years old when a caseworker for physical and mental developmental issues came to my home. Sitting at the kitchen table, I heard her ask, “What do you plan for Amber’s life after high school?”

My momma, without meaning to, lit a fire under my ass when she replied, “I don’t know. I figure she’ll live here with me.”

It was in that moment I knew I needed to do more — not because I didn’t love my mom dearly, but because I knew that one day she might not be here. What would happen if I built my entire life around her help, and she passed unexpectedly? What would I do then?

That thought stuck with me like a shadow. It wasn’t fear that drove me — well, maybe a little. The anxiety was real, even at twelve. I couldn’t imagine a world without my mom, but I also couldn’t ignore the truth that someday I’d have to stand — or roll — on my own.

I’ve been defying the odds since the night I was born. Since that day, I’ve gone on to graduate high school, earn my associate degree, start my own business, and even find my soulmate. Don’t get me wrong — I didn’t get to where I am all by myself. I have an incredible support system that’s helped me push through every challenge and celebrate every victory along the way.

My mom is and always has been my greatest cheerleader. My siblings are absolutely the greatest. My friends are the best. And Kyle — he’s, my compass.

I’ve learned that strength doesn’t come from standing tall — it comes from refusing to sit still when life tells you to stop.