Mummy’s little boy: But by 2, he was taller than me!
They warned that pregnancy could kill me...but look at us now
Reaching up as high as my arms would go, I pushed my son Maven, 4, on the swing.
Hearing the sound of sniggers, I looked over to the other side of the park where a group of teenagers were laughing at me.
Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention back to Maven, smiling at his carefree giggles
But, later when it was time to leave and I wheeled myself out in my wheelchair, I flashed the teens my sternest stare.
‘What are you looking at?’ I snapped as they turned away, red-faced.
Of course, I understand why people want to stare.
After all, I’m definitely the smallest mum around.
Aged 31 and just 2ft 10in, my head barely reaches Maven’s shoulders.
When I was born, doctors diagnosed me with osteogenesis imperfecta, a condition that means my bones are so fragile even a cough or sneeze could fracture them.
Other symptoms include shortened height, problems with teeth formation, joint pain and hearing issues.
‘She’ll never live a normal life,’ the doctors had told my heartbroken parents when I was just a few days old.
Only, even as a baby, I managed to drag myself along the floor. Grab the toys I wanted.
But because my legs were so tiny, walking really was impossible.
So, aged 2, I got my first wheelchair.
I was a determined soul, even back then.
If there was something I couldn’t do, like pull myself out of bed into my chair, I practised it over and over. Until, finally, I mastered it. By the time I was a teenager I was doing most things myself.
Getting out of bed, making myself breakfast, going off to school.
In 2007, I started college studying Social Work.
That’s where I met Michael, then 18.
He was 6ft 1in tall and towered over me.
But then everyone did.
And what mattered most is that we got on so well.
Complete opposites but the same quirky sense of humour.
People would stare at us when we went out on dates.
‘Is that her dad?' or ‘How does that work?’ I’d hear them whisper.
Even friends were curious about our sex life.
‘It’s none of your business,’ I’d snap back whenever they asked nosy questions. Michael and I were so happy together, we really didn’t care what other people thought.
In June 2011, we got married – and, just like any other couple, starting a family was the natural next step.
Even though, for me, carrying a baby was always going to be slightly more complicated. ‘Let’s give it a go,’
I urged Michael.
‘But what if something happens to you?’ he worried. ‘I’ll be OK,’ I insisted. I knew that there were risks. Our baby might have the same condition as me. And if he or she didn’t, my
My sex life was none of anyone else’s business!
doctor warned that a normalsized baby could crush me from the inside out.
‘If you fall pregnant, it could cost you your life,’ he said.
But I got so sick of being told about what could happen.
‘Yes it could be dangerous, but it could also be OK,’ I reasoned.
‘Ultimately, it’s your decision,’ my doctor said.
After more discussions with Michael, in 2012,
I came off the pill, falling pregnant with Maven a few years later.
Again, my doctor warned me that my baby could physically break my bones as he grew.
But my condition had made me fearless. So I tried to stay positive.
As my belly expanded, I felt the strain in every part of my body. My back ached constantly. And I felt really tired all the time.
At 20 weeks, I started bleeding, was admitted to hospital.
By now, my bump was so huge, it was bigger than the rest of my body.
All I could do was lie there.
‘If my baby is born safely, it’s worth it,’ I told Michael.
Finally, in March 2016, I was wheeled in for a caesarean section at 32 weeks.
Maven was born and was absolutely perfect. What’s more, thankfully,
he didn’t have my condition. I managed to care for Maven mostly by myself. Could pick him up, rock him to sleep, play with him... And as he’s grown older, that hasn’t really changed. At the age of 2, he was already taller than me. But I’m stronger than I look.
I could pick him up, get him in the car seat or a swing. Sometimes, I’ve overdone it, broken a bone in my arm or hand.
But as Maven’s got older, he helps me more and more. While Michael’s at work as a truck driver, Maven and I are just a typical son and stay-athome mum. Trips to the park, shopping, the zoo. Maven just accepts me the way I am, even though he’s already towering over me. Of course, he knows that I look different to the other mummies.
And that he has to be careful when we cuddle because my bones are so weak.
Like most kids, he just takes it in his stride. When I have a fracture and have to stay in bed,
I feel guilty that I can’t be the mum I want to be. But I don’t let it get me down.
We all have our struggles to overcome, after all. And I can’t deny that being so tiny has its benefits...
I get to buy kids’ clothes, which are half the price of adults’ clothes.
And more fun and more colourful, too!
At the end of the day, we all come in different shapes and sizes.
The world would be a very boring place if we were all the same.