That’s a wrap!

Doctors told me I’d never achieve anything. How wrong they were... Rosaleen Moriarty-simmonds, 57, Cardiff

Adding the final touch to my painting, I pulled my head back and wiggled the ache out of my jaw.

It was January this year – and taking inspiration from our still-festive lounge, I’d painted our Christmas tree sparkling with tinsel.

I’d done it holding a paintbrush with my teeth.

Missing my arms and legs at birth, I was part of a generation whose mums had been prescribed thalidomide when pregnant, with devastating results.

At just 3, I’d been fitted for prosthetic limbs. They were stiff, heavy and uncomfortable. And with a crash helmet in case I fell over, I looked like a robot! I hated it. At 7, I ditched the arms. The doctors tried to persuade me to keep wearing them, hoping they’d help me fit in.

‘I don’t need them,’ I said. Instead I could pick things up with my mouth or chin.

I continued to wear the legs for cosmetic reasons, getting around in an electric wheelchair controlled by a box at shoulder height.

But the message from doctors stayed the same: I’d never keep a job, get married, have children or be independent.

I didn’t understand their thinking.

Why couldn’t that person be me?

So in 1982, I was the first disabled person to go to Cardiff University, where I studied Psychology.

A desk was set up at the front of the lecture hall, to fit my wheelchair. I took my spot, then glanced at the 300 people behind me. I’d made it!

I graduated in 1985 and romance blossomed with Stephen, now 57, another survivor of thalidomide I’d met years back at a limb centre.

We got married in 1988 – and in 1995, our son James was born.

I took a job as a civil servant, then I moved to work in the media, while running my own business.

There were challenges. But it was the only life I’d ever know.

Between work and home, life was blissfully busy. But in the quiet moments, I’d sit in front of my easel, paintbrush in mouth.

I painted whatever came to mind, losing myself for hours.

My friend Tom, 56, a board member artist at the Mouth and Foot Painting Artists, encouraged me to submit my work to the MFPA. ‘You should do it,’ he urged. ‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘I don’t know...’ But Tom kept on, and in 2012, I nervously sent in my portfolio.

What if I wasn’t good enough?

Months passed, then I received a letter. I’d been accepted! My dream was to be selected for the Christmas card and wrapping paper collection. So every year, I painted elaborate nativity scenes and trees.

No luck.

But I wasn’t giving up. Then, in early 2018, I thought about our Christmas tree, dripping in shimmering tinsel and colourful baubles. I was inspired. And picking up my paintbrush, I swirled every colour of the rainbow into the shape of a tree. ‘You’re sure to be picked this year,’ Stephen smiled. ‘Don’t get my hopes up,’ I joked. But one afternoon in September 2018, the MFPA e-mailed me... My design had been selected from almost 800 artists globally! This year, my design is featured on the MFPA website and I’m thrilled. I bet you can guess which wrapping paper I’ll be making sure all my family use this year!

I swirled every colour of the rainbow into a tree