A stranger told me I shouldn't have children

As I breastfed my newborn baby Kemi in the doctor's waiting room, I felt eyes boring into me.

I looked up and – sure enough – a woman nearby was looking at me terrified.

“You should never be allowed to have children,” she said coldly, without prompting. “What quality of life will your child have with a disabled mother?

I was lost for words. How can someone be so cruel? I ended up leaving the office with tears in my eyes.

Unfortunately, I'm used to people underestimating me because of my disability.

I have spastic quadriplegia, cerebral palsy, chronic pain, fatigue and osteoarthritis. This means I have difficulty moving and experience joint pain.

As a result, for as long as I can remember, doctors routinely told me I wouldn't be able to have children. They thought my body couldn't handle it.

At first I didn't like being told this. But towards the end of my teenage years, I just tried to accept that something like that wouldn't happen to me.

So I was shocked to find out that in my early 20s I was pregnant by my then husband. I was stunned but elated.

When I finally told the doctor I was expecting, we did genetic testing to double check that the baby was healthy and everything came out fine.

However, the pregnancy was difficult and it made me very sick.

This made my regular back pain even worse, but thankfully it eventually went away. But I also had a lot of morning sickness so I couldn't really restrict what I ate. As a result, I was in and out of the hospital due to dehydration.

All this time I felt judged as a physically disabled pregnant woman. The doctors asked probing questions that suggested to me that they didn't think I would be able to cope with motherhood. I also got strange looks from people on the street when they saw my belly.

Kemi was born prematurely, around 30 weeks. Fortunately, I didn't have to have a cesarean section, but the birth itself was difficult because I had regular contractions.

At five pounds, two ounces, Kemi was tiny, so she was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. She stayed there for almost three months, but I came to visit every day.

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

Then, a few months after Kemi was born, I separated from my husband.

Since then, as a disabled single mother, I have had to learn to adapt to make things work for me.

It's like using a breastfeeding pillow because I can't hold it in my left hand. Or spending a lot of time playing with her on the floor so that there is less risk of falling.

We did quite well, especially with occasional help from my parents.

At the same time, I always felt like I had to overcompensate to prove to people that I could handle myself. I worked full-time as a benefits advisor, commuting from Coventry to Birmingham five days a week, then juggling day care and taking time off when Kemi or I were sick.

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

This decline in health meant that when Kemi was around eight years old, I had to have surgery on her right knee. As a result, I had to arrange for someone to drop her off at school while I recovered.

I then approached social services to see if there was anything they could do, such as providing a taxi to and from school. I didn't think it was out of the question because it's something I had growing up.

So the social worker came to my home to assess the situation but said he was unable to provide this service. That's when I was told that Kemi was on the “at risk” list. with social services after her school raised concerns.

To this day I don't know why it was flagged – but as soon as I found out about it, I was furious. The social worker saw that Kemi was healthy, happy, and our home was spotless. I didn't understand why it was on the list, other than that I have a physical disability.

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

Since then, it has been a struggle for me to work with schools and medical staff due to the fact that I am a disabled single mother. Little things like ensuring access to schools – not only for students with disabilities, but also for parents – can make a huge difference.

Therefore, I believe that greater awareness and sensitivity should be demonstrated in this area. I want to feel supported, not judged and treated unfairly.

We can do this by challenging taboos, such as the fact that non-disabled people simply assume we don't have relationships. This isn't true at all – I've actually had fulfilling relationships over the years.

Fortunately, not everyone is so judgmental. 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, was in a relationship, and was raising a child, she was happy and said I had given her some inspiration.

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

Kemi is now 23, still lives at home with me and is studying to become a graphic designer. I still do my best to provide her with a fulfilling life – and we are both happy for that.

Of course, I will always have unique care needs, but that does not mean my daughter is any less loved and supported.

It doesn't matter what anyone says.

As told to James Besanvalle.

Do you have a story you'd like to share? Contact James.Besanvalle@metro.co.uk.

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