Windows, Mirrors and Sliding Doors: A "We've Got This" Book Review

All stories can be windows, mirrors and sliding doors. They can show us what it's like to be someone else, to walk in their shoes for a few miles. They can reflect our experiences back to us, show us that we are not alone. And they can be sliding doors, the "what ifs" of life.

I've been reading "We've Got This: Stories by Disabled Parents", a collection of stories edited by Eliza Hull and based off her breakthrough podcast of the same name. And while I haven't read it cover to cover yet, I've read a good chunk and it ticks all the boxes for me.

So far I've looked through many windows. I've seen parents who have struggled with physical disabilities, parents who feared stigma because of the way they look, parents struggling against the system who thinks parents need to be whole and healthy to bring a child into the world and raise them. Parents who discovered their own true identities through having children. Reading Sam Drummond's story was definitely a window for me. I don't know any people like him personally, and I've never thought that his condition would effect his ability to be a parent. Was that my naivety that there was nothing 'wrong' with people who have dwarfism? Or had I just not thought much about it? The window that has opened onto this world has opened my eyes to another kind of disability and the struggles they face.

I've also looked in some mirrors. I've seen the anxiety, the fear, and the longing. These are all things I have felt and continue to feel. The belief that we have to hide our disability, or the extent to which our disability effects our lives, in order to be accepted as "normal", "normal" enough to be trusted to raise a child. The almost universal attitude of the medical profession, the people who work in children's welfare, and society at large, that people with a disability don't make good parents. My diagnosis of endometriosis meant I would struggle to conceive, and I would have happily adopted a child in a heartbeat. But knowing that my diabetes and strokes would have to form part of the picture when applying to be an adoptive parent, we decided against it. The fact that I have medical conditions doesn't make me an unsuitable parent. But that was a battle I just wasn't equipped to fight. Reading Micheline Lee's story of how she had to down-play her disability, how she had to pretend everything was 'normal' in order to get the green light to be an adoptive parent, made me feel so sad for the state of our world. How many children grow up without a loving family, grow up in situations that make me shudder to think of. And how many compassionate, loving people out there miss out on the chance to provide a home and a family because they are imperfect? I wept when I read about how her adopted son left her behind when she fell out of her wheelchair. But I also rejoiced with her to know that she was able to be a parent in spite of (or maybe because of?) her disability. Children are a blessing, but all parents struggle with parenthood from time to time. It takes a village to raise a child.

I found it really moving to read the story of Nat Bartsch and Jeremy Hopkins. Both of these wonderful people would not be described as neurotypical parents. Both were misdiagnosed; one with ADHD and one with bipolar. But after becoming parents, and discovering their child has Autism Spectrum Disorder, a mirror appeared for their own experiences. As it turns out, both Nat and Jeremy were also on the spectrum. As the aunty of two nephews on the spectrum, and the sister of a brother who was diagnosed as on the spectrum only after his two boys were, I can totally get this story. I loved how Nat said "Being a parent balanced the creative and domestic sides of me well." Isn't that something we should celebrate and cherish? There are so many advantages and blessings to being someone with unique abilities, and we miss these if we try to deny them their right to parent. And I was so glad that her village helped both her and Jeremy through their journey as parents.

Grief is a big part of a lot of these stories, as it has been in my own story. There is loss in everyone's story, but for people with a disability, life will always be so much harder than for people who identify as "normal". This book shines a light on these experiences, and I really hope that many people read it, if only to develop some empathy towards people who live harder lives. The stories also reveal that life doesn't have to be that much more challenging. That society can bend and not break when we accept these people as they are.

Stories can also be sliding doors. Showing us what could have happened, what might have been, and what may be one day. I remember as a tween reading The Babysitter's Club books, and the character of Stacey is diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I had never read about a person like this, and I don't know why, but Stacey was always my favourite character. Several years later, and I found myself gravely ill, and nearly 6 months later was finally diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. The sliding door moment had arrived. I realised that reading that book was a window, that had now become a mirror. I've never read another story about a person with type 1 diabetes. I've never read a story about a person who'd had a stroke either, at least not a young person. As a teacher librarian, I strive to provide as many windows, mirrors and sliding doors for my students as I can. I want them to see themselves reflected in the pages they read. Things are changing, more diverse characters and stories are being written. I'm still waiting for the story of a young person living with stroke.

Reading the foreword of this book, my heart was breaking. "Learning to navigate the world in a new body" is a line that really resonates with me. After 9 years I am still trying to navigate the world in a body that looks like everyone else's, but often doesn't behave like everyone else's. Reading just two pages I had decided that this book and it's marvellous, brave, adaptive authors are "my people". They get me. We all need to read stories that reflect us.

The introduction to this book raises some interesting emotions for me. In one sense it is incredibly empowering to read about a person's experiences. In another, it drags up feelings that I'm not okay with. Remembering words that were spoken to me. Recalling the way some medical professionals behaved and treated me. But also remembering some people within the medical profession who went absolutely above and beyond to support me in my journey. I can already tell that reading this book will not be an easy ride. As I grapple with my own emotional journey, putting off having another child (largely due to the ongoing pandemic), there is a part of me that wants to continue to hide from it all, but another part of me that knows I need to take the journey. I never feel brave enough. I dream of my next encounter with the medical profession and being treated with the same dignity and respect as any other patient. I dream of by disabilities not disabling me because of other people's attitudes and beliefs.

Reading the stories contained in this book exposes a truth I have long felt about our society: that we are being forced to conform to a perfectionist ideology of who should or should not be allowed reproduce. Eugenics on a global scale. I long despaired about my right to have a child. Who was I to add additional burdens to the world? Actually, what I should have been thinking was "who was I NOT to have children?" Don't I have something to contribute to the next generation? Am I less because I'm not perfect? I considered adoption, but quickly abandoned that idea, believing, rightly or wrongly, that I would never be accepted as an adoptive parent because of my disabilities. I absolutely believe that the interests of the child should be honoured, and paramount in decision making, but what is so wrong with having a disabled parent? (Sorry, like Eliza Hull, I'm not sure whether I should use 'disabled parent' or 'parent with a disability'). People who are considered non-disabled do not always stay that way. The richness that our diversity brings to society, the uniqueness that is in each and every person, can only enhance the world.

We have so got this.

And so, for the one thing I would ask: when is the next instalment coming out that showcases more disabled parents??

And in a final word: this book has inspired me to have another go at telling the story of a quirky lady navigating the world of type 1, stroke and endometriosis. Watch this space.