Another kind of motherhood - a parent's view

Before I had my son Alex, who is now nine, my image of parenthood used to be long, chatty conversations with a small child whose hand would be firmly placed in mine as we walked to the shops together. Another mother I know says she used to see red Paddington Bear wellington boots splashing in puddles.

When we were told that our babies had cerebral palsy, it took us years to come to terms with what that was going to mean to our lives.

I had a 'model' pregnancy' with labour starting punctually at 40 weeks. I was 33, fit, and optimistic. When labour unaccountably stopped, the midwife induced me. Perhaps she made a mistake. Who knows? Nothing could be proven. In my heart of hearts I don't really blame anyone. Thanks to advances in medical technology, more babies survive difficult births, but some may have brain damage. 
Paediatricians can be tactless when giving the news that all is not well, partly because often they are unsure themselves of just what is wrong. It can be months or even years before it becomes clear just what the prognosis is for any particular child. People constantly ask, 'Will he be able to walk? Will he be able to talk?' and it's hard to have to say, 'No-one knows'.