Ataxic Fantastic

“I’ll never be a mum” I wailed as the tears rolled down my cheeks. This was the first thing I said to my neuropsychologist and would be the theme for the next hour. There I was, a girl who had worked so hard on her confidence and certainty of her place in this world over the past year, a girl whose dreams had been shattered in an hour’s hospital visit, a grief-stricken shell of a young girl, who, in that very moment, was questioning her mere existence. How was I going to care for a child? For a baby? Would anyone even want me as a mother now? Now that I had a disability. The thought of not being able to carry my own child, to run around with them at the park, to scoop them up when they fall over was enough to shatter my dreams entirely. Would they see me as the boring mum or even worse, an embarrassment? Not only did I think I would never be a mother, but that no one would want to start a family with me. Now I feel lucky to be loved by my partner, someone so kind, so caring and so co...