A Stranger Told Me I Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Have Children

As I breast-fed my newborn baby, Kemi, in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, I could feel a stare staring at me.

I looked up and – sure enough – a woman nearby was gaping at me, horrified.

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

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

Unfortunately, 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, with joint pain.

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

Initially, I was resentful when they told me this. But in my late teens, I tried to just accept that it wouldn’t happen to me.

I was shocked when I discovered in my early 20s that I was pregnant with my then-husband. I was amazed, but over the moon.

When I finally told my doctor I was pregnant, we did genetic testing to make sure the baby was healthy, and everything turned out fine.

The pregnancy was difficult and I was sick for a long time.

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

Throughout this time, I felt judged for being a pregnant woman with a physical disability. Medical professionals asked probing questions that suggested to me that they didn’t think I could handle motherhood. I also got strange looks from people on the street when they saw my belly.

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

Weighing 5 pounds, Kemi was small, so she was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. She stayed there for almost three months, but I came to visit her every day.

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

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

Since then, as a single mother with a disability, I have 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 him with my left hand. Or spend a lot of time playing with her on the floor so there is less risk of falls.

We managed pretty well, 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 worked full-time as a benefits consultant while commuting from Coventry to Birmingham five days a week, then juggling childcare and taking time off whenever Kemi or I were sick.

Over the years, my mobility deteriorated. Especially when I became a caregiver for my parents, including my mother, who had Parkinson’s.

This decline in my health meant I needed surgery on my right knee when Kemi was around eight years old. As a result, I had to arrange 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 question because it was something I had when I was a kid.

Then a social worker came to my house to assess the situation, but said it wasn’t a service she could provide. That’s when they also told me that Kemi was on a social services “at risk” list after her school raised concerns.

To this day, I still don’t know why this was flagged – but as soon as I found out, I was furious. The social worker noticed that Kemi was healthy, happy and that our house was immaculate. I couldn’t understand why she was put on this list, other than the fact that I have a physical disability.

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

Since then, it has felt like an uphill battle to make contact with schools or medical teams about being a single mother with a disability. Little things like making schools accessible – not just for students with disabilities, but also for parents – can make a huge difference.

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

We can do this by challenging taboos, such as the fact that non-disabled people simply assume we don’t have relationships. That’s not true – in fact, I’ve had fulfilling relationships over the years.

Fortunately, not everyone is so critical. I once met a mother who told me that her daughter had cerebral palsy, but she was afraid she would never have a “normal” life.

When I told her I worked full time, had relationships, and was raising my son, she was happy and said I gave her inspiration.

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

Kemi is now 23 years old, still lives with me and studies graphic design. I continue to do my best to ensure she lives a full life – and we are both happy about that.

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

It doesn’t matter what anyone says.

As told to James Besanvalle.

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