This First Person column is the experience of Kiaira Fedorus, who lives in Grande Prairie, Alta. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
Time stood still while I sat hunched over on the toilet seat, holding the positive pregnancy test.
I’d always wanted to become a mother but because I have spastic cerebral palsy, it never felt realistic. And though I’d been raised to never say “I can’t” without giving it my all, finding out that I was pregnant was one of the only times where I doubted my ability to overcome and adapt.
It wasn’t that I was unsure if I would be a good mom. Instead, it was the uncertainty. Was my body capable of growing a baby and giving birth? What about the years ahead of raising a child?
When I told my mother, I was looking for some sort of comfort and knew that she would understand my anxiety. She has always assured me that I’m more than capable of handling any obstacle, and I needed that reassurance yet again.
Living with cerebral palsy
Cerebral palsy is a neurological disorder caused by brain trauma that occurs before, during or shortly after birth. It can affect motor skills, movement, balance and posture, and it is different for everyone. No diagnosis is exactly the same because no two people have experienced the exact same brain trauma.
I have spastic hemiplegic cerebral palsy, which means my muscles are tense on one side of my body. I have a limp, my right arm remains at a 90 degree angle, and my right hand is often clenched close and doesn’t have much function.
I was diagnosed when I was six months old, so this is all I’ve ever known. There was no adjusting or learning how to live with it. I’ve just naturally let the left side of my body compensate for my right.
But having a baby is very different from figuring out how to do my hair.
When my partner and I had talked about our future, we agreed that we wanted to have a family and would adapt as we go, while my mom reminded me to take it day by day and that she would be there every step of the way.
Even if I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to manage, I knew I already had two people in my corner.
But I still cried. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy and I was too terrified to be excited.
First I got pregnant, then I became anxious
I found a wonderful doctor who guided me through my pregnancy. I had no complications and I learned that my disability wasn’t a factor in whether I would be at high risk.
As I approached my due date, new fears set in. Labour and the act of giving birth all depended on my body’s muscles working together and I was dreading it. I decided to have a caesarean birth. It wasn’t an easy choice but I wanted to ensure the safety of my baby.
Two days after my son was born, I returned home and focused my attention on being a mom.
Because of my cerebral palsy, I rely on my abdominal muscles to move and I struggled to do the bare minimum as I recovered from the caesarean. I gave myself grace while I was healing and told myself it was OK that my limitations with mobility meant I wasn’t able to bounce my baby to sleep or burp him.
At first, it was easy when someone was with me to help pick him up and do things I couldn’t. But I knew the time was coming when I would need to pick up my newborn baby with just my one hand.
When the time came for me to manage by myself, there was no overthinking.
He was in his bassinet and I slowly bent down and told him, “OK, my sweet boy, let’s figure this out.” I lifted his bottom half, slipped my left hand up his spine and held his neck in place while I leaned over to draw him to my chest. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief as we sat there together while he fell asleep in my arms.
It’s been almost two years since the birth of my son. I’ve navigated diaper changes, baths and breastfeeding with only one hand.
I’ve also been finding ways to use my journey as a disabled mother to help other new moms who are feeling anxious or afraid. I launched an Instagram platform called Mothers Inclusive and have partnered with the Grande Prairie Public Library to run a support group for mothers in my community.
It’s been powerful to be able to support other mothers and to learn to give myself grace when I wonder how I’m going to figure out the next chapter of motherhood.
I’ve always believed that my disability is not the entree but simply a side dish. In everything that life has given me so far, I have proven to myself that I am capable — but that it just might take me longer to do it with one hand. Looking back, I have only one regret. I wish I hadn’t been overwhelmed with worry and allowed myself to be in love with the idea of being a mom.
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