A stranger told me I shouldn’t have been allowed to have kids --[Reported by Umva mag]

As I nursed my newborn baby, Kemi, in the doctor’s surgery waiting room, I could feel a stare boring into me.

I looked up and – sure enough – a woman nearby was gawping at me, aghast.

‘You should never have been allowed to have children,’ she coldly said to me, unprompted. ‘What quality of life will your baby have with a crippled mother?’

I was speechless. How could someone be so cruel? I ended up leaving the surgery in tears.

Sadly, I’m used to people underestimating me because of my disability.

I have spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy, chronic pain, fatigue and osteoarthritis. This means that I have difficulty moving around, with pain in my joints.

As a result, for as long as I can remember, doctors routinely told me that it wouldn’t be possible for me to have children. They didn’t think my body could handle it.

Initially, I resented being told this. But by the end of my teenage years, I tried to just accept that it wouldn’t happen for me.

So I was shocked when I found out in my early 20s that I was pregnant by my then-husband. I was flabbergasted, but over the moon. 

When I eventually told my doctor that I was expecting, we did genetic testing to double check the baby was healthy, which all came back fine.

The pregnancy was difficult though and I was sick for a lot of it.

It made my regular back pain even worse, which thankfully died down eventually. But I also had a lot of morning sickness, so I couldn’t really keep food down. As a result, I was in and out of hospital due to dehydration.

Throughout this time, I felt judged for being a physically disabled pregnant woman. Medical professionals would ask probing questions that suggested to me they didn’t think I could cope with motherhood. I’d also get odd looks from people on the street when they saw my baby bump.

Kemi was born prematurely, around 30 weeks. Thankfully, I didn’t need to have a C-section but the birth itself was tough because I was having regular spasms alongside contractions.

At five pounds and two ounces, Kemi was tiny so she was whisked off to the neonatal intensive care unit. She stayed there for almost three months, but I’d come in and visit every single day. 

When I could finally take her home with me, I was so happy.

Then, a few months after Kemi was born, I ended up leaving my husband.

Ever since then, as a disabled single mother, I’ve had to learn to adapt to make things work for me.

Like using a pillow to help me breastfeed my baby because I couldn’t hold her in my left hand. Or spending a lot of time playing with her on the floor so there was less of a risk of falls. 

We managed just fine, especially with some occasional help from my parents.

At the same time, I always felt like I needed to overcompensate to prove to people that I could manage. I was working full-time as a benefits adviser while commuting from Coventry to Birmingham five days a week, then juggling daycare and taking time off whenever either Kemi or I were sick.

Over the years, my mobility has deteriorated. Especially as I became a carer for my parents, including Mum, who had Parkinson’s.

This decline in my health meant that I needed to have surgery on my right knee when Kemi was around eight. As a result, I needed to organise for someone to drop her off at school while I was in recovery.

That’s when I approached social services to see if there was anything they could do, like provide a taxi service to and from school. I didn’t think it was out of the realm of possibility because it’s something I had when I was growing up.

So a social worker came to my house to assess the situation, but they said it wasn’t a service they could provide. That’s when they also told me that Kemi was on an ‘at-risk’ list with social services after her school had submitted concerns.

To this day, I still don’t know why this was flagged – but as soon as I found out, I was livid. The social worker could see that Kemi was healthy, happy and our home was immaculate. I couldn’t understand why she was put on this list, apart from the fact that I have a physical disability.

What followed was a two-year battle to get her off this list, including writing to social services and my local MP to complain. Thankfully, just before her 10th birthday, she was removed.

Ever since, it’s felt like an uphill battle liaising with schools or medical staff about the fact that I’m a disabled single mother. Small things like making schools accessible – not just for disabled students, but for parents – can make a huge difference.

That’s why I think there needs to be more awareness and sensitivity in this area. I want to feel supported, not judged or unfairly treated.

We can do this by challenging taboos, like the fact that non-disabled people just assume we don’t have relationships. This isn’t true at all – in fact, I’ve had fulfilling relationships over the years.

Thankfully, not everyone is so judgemental. I once met a mother who told me her daughter had cerebral palsy, but she was afraid that she would never have a ‘normal’ life.

When I said that I worked full-time, had relationships and was raising my child, she was happy and said that I gave her some inspiration.

That’s why I’m sharing my story – to show others that disabled people like me can lead happy lives. And, yes, have children too.

Kemi is now 23, still living at home with me and studying to be a graphic designer. I continue to do my best to make sure she lives a fulfilling life – and we’re both happy for it.

Of course, I’ll always have unique care needs but that doesn’t mean my daughter is any less loved or supported.

No matter what anyone says.

As told to James Besanvalle.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing James.Besanvalle@metro.co.uk. 

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