It happened to me
Even after a horrific accident, Nicole Crawford was determined to start a family
Quadriplegic… but I became a single mum
Certain things in life we were always destined to do. For some people it’s getting married, for others it’s becoming a doctor. For me, I’ve always known I was meant to be a mother. my parents split in 2000 and, as the oldest and with Dad gone, it was up to me to pick up the slack. although I was only nine, I excelled at doing the small things like tying my younger brother mitchell’s shoe laces and holding his hand to cross the road. It came naturally, like I was born to do it.
So when, after graduation, I announced I would work at the local nursery instead of going to university no one was surprised – least of all my mum, Sandra, then 45.
I was 18, single and completely carefree. It felt like my life was just beginning. But just two months later that all changed. When I got into a friend’s car on 9 February 2009 it started out as a bit of fun. Three friends and I decided to go driving in the sand dunes near my house in the suburbs of Sydney. We knew it was dangerous, but like most teenagers we thought we were invincible. That is until the jeep barrelled too fast over the peak of a dune, nose-diving off the edge and flipping on to its soft-top roof.
I don’t remember what happened next, but the newspapers said they found all four of us pinned under the chassis. Mum said she was heartbroken the first time she saw my battered body stretched out in the hospital bed. I was slipping in and out of consciousness, but I could just about hear the doctor saying that I’d broken three of the most crucial vertebrae at the base of my neck. There was no hope of recovery. The best they could do was to fuse the bones back together in surgery, so I could nod my head and work my jaw. But from the neck down I would be completely immobile. ‘We call it quadriplegic,’ explained the doctor. ‘And it’s incurable.’
For the next six weeks, I was sedated and left to recover in the intensive care unit until I became fully conscious in March 2009. That’s when the reality sank in, and I became distraught.
With physiotherapy, I might be able to shrug my shoulders at the most, but I’d never walk or even raise my arms again. Every day my independence was evaporating before my eyes as the nurses arrived to feed me, brush my teeth, I couldn’t even go to the toilet without help. I’d never be able to work as a nursery school teacher again, or cradle my own baby in my arms. It felt like my life was over.
But, as the weeks and months passed I realised I had two options. I could languish in my hospital bed, or carve out a future, whatever it may be. So I committed all my energy to weekly physiotherapy sessions, and although progress was slow, by the time I was discharged in October 2009, I was able to control an electric wheelchair by pressing my chin against a special device.
But while I’d gained back some independence, I still relied on Mum for the basic things, like feeding me and getting me dressed. She did everything,
‘For the Next Six weeks, i was Sedated’
with the help of Mitchell, then 16, and my two aunts, Lorraine, 58, and Judi, 43.
Slowly, they all helped me to rebuild my shattered life. And, five years later, in March 2014, aged 23, I was able to move into my very own custom built house just 30 minutes away. With Mum having returned to her administrative job, I had two professional carers to look after me during the day. My life was in a good place, but still something important was missing.
I hadn’t been in a relationship since the accident. But one day, using my specially adapted computer, I ran a search for pregnancy and quadriplegia on Google. I’d assumed motherhood was out of the question. But scrolling through the results, my heart flipped with excitement as I read about the people who had done it before. None were single like me, but I wasn’t afraid of doing it alone. People might have thought it was selfish and yes, I knew I’d need help – and a lot of it – but after everything I’d been through I deserved some joy in my life.
Mum promised she’d support me. So in June 2014, I booked an appointment with my GP. She referred me to IVF Australia, an organisation that supports single women who want children, and my case was put before an ethics committee. They’d never had an applicant like me before. But seeing what a fantastic support network I had around me they agreed to the treatment. It would cost £2,100 per round of IVF, which I paid using my own savings, and in March 2015, after nine months on the sperm donor waiting list, I had my first round. I was completely gutted when it failed – as did the next, and the next. Finally, in March 2016, having spent £10,000 in total, I had what would be my fifth and final attempt.
Four weeks later, there was miraculous news – I was pregnant! When I called Mum, she broke down in tears over the phone. It was the happiest I’d felt in years.
From that moment everything became focused around the baby. Mum agreed to give up her job so she could take full-time care of him when he was born. Although I knew I was asking a lot of her, having this baby was something I had to do. And while I knew some people might question my decision, I didn’t care – it was my right to be a mother. On 8 November 2016, I went into labour. I couldn’t feel any pain because of my quadriplegia, but I could feel my stomach clenching and relaxing under my hand.
Just a few hours later, Reagan was born by caesarean section, weighing 4lb 5oz. The nurses placed him on my chest, and as he nuzzled into my neck I couldn’t believe this moment was happening.
When Reagan was discharged from hospital, although it felt wonderful to have my baby home, the fact I couldn’t do anything to care for him was torturous. Mum saw to everything, from giving him his bottle to changing his nappy.
Whenever he cried, she had to be the first to pick him up because I couldn’t physically do it. It was so difficult, and I’ll never be able to repay her enough.
But there’s no doubt in my mind that Reagan knows I’m his mummy. As soon as he’s cuddled up on a pillow in my lap this wonderful smile spreads across his face. I know he knows he’s loved.
Yes, I can’t do everything for Reagan that an able-bodied parent could, but I can give him the most important gift a parent can give – my unconditional love. Surely that’s what most important.
‘i wasn’t afraid of doing it alone’