antiquity
01-17-2003, 08:33 AM
COURAGE OF MUM WITH NO LIMBS WHO WON MBE
Jan 17 2003
By David EdwardsÂ*
CRAWLING on to the lap of his disabled mother, three-year-old Parys snuggles up against her chest and says: "Don't worry, Mummy, I'm your arms now."
Bursting with pride, Alison Lapper, who was born with tiny, shortened legs and no arms, replies:
"No, darling. You've got your own arms and your own life to lead."
Alison's disability means she only stands at 3ft 11ins, yet the love and devotion she lavishes on her son is beyond measure.
But what makes this single mother's story all the more remarkable is that she has just been made an MBE for services to art.
"It still hasn't really sunk in," she says. "I always thought these things went to heroic people who'd won Olympic medals or climbed Mount Everest, but I'm just an artist and a mother. I'm not amazing, I'm just like everybody else."
Despite her modesty, all of Alison's friends readily use the word 'amazing' when talking about the 37-year-old.
She may not have conquered Everest but every day Alison is forced to climb mountains of her own. They range from the small challenges of preparing meals for Parys to the seemingly insurmountable problem of trying to overcome people's prejudices about her disability.
"The way I am is not a big deal to me because it's something I've dealt with all my life. People say, 'If I was you, I would've killed myself' but who says I'm having a terrible life just because I'm disabled?
"Yes, I have a disability and yes, we can all see it but I don't have a problem with it so why should others?
"Sometimes people think Parys' au pair, Sylvia, is his mother because she is the able-bodied one and then when they find out he's mine, they're shocked."
Although he only celebrated his third birthday last week, Parys is already highly developed for his age.
If he falls over, he doesn't collapse into a heap of tears screaming for his mother but, instead, runs over to her to be cuddled. When he is out with Alison he never runs off as he knows she is unable to chase after him. But the boy Alison calls her "little miracle" was not planned.
"I honestly thought I would never have children and quite early on in my life had come to terms with that - throughout my childhood I was always told I was too disabled to carry a child and wouldn't be able to cope when it was born anyway.
"I got very broody as soon as I hit 30, but I had a really good career opening up before me and was perfectly happy with things."
Alison has kept the identity of Parys' father a secret from all but her closest friend. "I'm not in touch with his father, but I will tell Parys who he is as soon as he's old enough to understand. For now I just want him to enjoy his childhood."
Alison was living in a three-bedroom bungalow in Brighton, East Sussex, when in mid-1999 she discovered she was pregnant.
"I kind of suspected it had happened because I felt different but I still went and bought four home pregnancy tests to be absolutely sure. Every time one came out positive it was like 'No, no, no they're wrong' because I was in such shock.
"When it hit me, I phoned my gynaecologist in Worthing and had to battle with his secretary to see him. In the end I said 'OK, just tell him Alison Lapper's pregnant.'
"I got a call straight back and saw him the next day. He was wonderful and made me believe I could get through the pregnancy and be OK. I was absolutely terrified because I didn't want to go through it all and lose the baby halfway through or put Parys at risk somehow."
But although her gynaecologist was able to ready her for the birth itself, nothing could have prepared Alison for the prejudice she would suffer at the hands of strangers.
"I was already used to people making comments about me in the street, but they became much more hurtful when I started showing. There's a whole section of society which disapproves of single mothers so you can imagine how they felt about a disabled single mother.
"Once, when I was about six months pregnant, I was in the chemist's talking to a friend when these two old dears walked in. As I was leaving I heard them saying to her, 'Do you think that's right?'
"She told me afterwards they had said it was atrocious for someone like me to have a baby, as if I wouldn't be able to care for it or would be claiming benefits to bring it up."
In fact Alison relies on no Government handouts to raise Parys and instead uses the money she earns as a member of the Association of Mouth and Foot Painting Artists for his care.
Alison carried the baby for as long as she could - to 35 weeks - before he was delivered by Caesarean weighing 5lb 9oz.
"It got to the stage where it got too painful and became difficult for me to move.
"From the moment he was born he was the most wanted child in the world."
The contrast with Alison's own start in life could not have been more marked. She was born with phocomelia, a congenital condition similar to that caused by Thalidomide, and was sent away by her mother when she was six weeks old.
She has never met her father, who left before she was born, but is still in touch with her mother, who made contact again when she was four.
Alison was sent to Chailey Heritage School, which caters for extremely disabled children, and which generous Mirror readers supported in our Christmas appeal this year.
"My mother was advised to send me away because the thinking in those days was that it was better all round to keep children like me in a home.
"I was never angry with her and I've always maintained if I hadn't gone to Chailey Heritage School I might not be the independent person I am today. As children we used to go on day trips and people would pat us on the head and give us money because when you're a kid, you're cute.
"But when you hit the terrible teens you're no longer cute and people's reaction to me changed - I suddenly realised I was different. It sounds strange but, until then, I hadn't realised I was disabled. I was too busy being a kid."
After becoming headgirl at the East Sussex school when she was 16, Alison left a year later and, after passing her driving test at 19, went to Chelsea in south-west London to study art.
"Until then I had worn artificial legs but when I
was 23 I got a sore and was persuaded by a friend to go out nightclubbing without them which was a really big deal for me. Then I got chatted-up and I thought, 'Why am I wearing these things? I can be 3ft 11ins and still get chatted up.'"
ALISON started seeing a man who was 14 years her senior in 1984 and three years later they married, but it didn't last.
Shrugging, Alison says: "We all make mistakes, but I don't regret getting married because it was a learning experience for me. I think he wanted a housewife and a mother, but there was no way I was ready for children or to be stuck at home all day. I wanted a career which I think he found threatening.
"I know I look different but all my organs are the same. I still have feelings and emotions. Because you are physically disabled, people think your brain doesn't function, that you lack empathy, sexuality or passion.
"My work is about challenging these preconceptions and that's why it's so great to get an MBE. Women don't have to be 6ft tall and anorexic and I don't aspire to be like that at all, thank God.
"I would love to be in a women's fashion magazine
or to go down a catwalk as I am. Why not?"
Alison is adamant she didn't bring Parys into the world to help her. "He's got his own path to lead but it warms my heart when he does things because he wants to and not because he's made to.
"Sometimes he looks up my sleeves for my arms and I have to say, 'No, darling. They're not there.'
He is quite protective of me already. If I stumble he'll try to catch me, even though he's so tiny or when I get in my car he'll put my glasses on for me.
"I knew early on I'd have to be able to control him by voice and it's got to the stage where if I say 'Please stop' and he doesn't, I say 'Right, get in the corner please' and he does. He knows by my tone of voice where I'm coming from.
"You look at him and think, 'Wow, you are so grown up and mature.' But I know we couldn't cope without help, which means I've never really had my little boy to myself. I'm also very aware that if I lose my care then Parys could be taken away from me, which is my biggest fear.
"But for now, we are just enjoying being a normal family."
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/allnews/page.cfm?objectid=12543254&method=full&siteid=50143
Jan 17 2003
By David EdwardsÂ*
CRAWLING on to the lap of his disabled mother, three-year-old Parys snuggles up against her chest and says: "Don't worry, Mummy, I'm your arms now."
Bursting with pride, Alison Lapper, who was born with tiny, shortened legs and no arms, replies:
"No, darling. You've got your own arms and your own life to lead."
Alison's disability means she only stands at 3ft 11ins, yet the love and devotion she lavishes on her son is beyond measure.
But what makes this single mother's story all the more remarkable is that she has just been made an MBE for services to art.
"It still hasn't really sunk in," she says. "I always thought these things went to heroic people who'd won Olympic medals or climbed Mount Everest, but I'm just an artist and a mother. I'm not amazing, I'm just like everybody else."
Despite her modesty, all of Alison's friends readily use the word 'amazing' when talking about the 37-year-old.
She may not have conquered Everest but every day Alison is forced to climb mountains of her own. They range from the small challenges of preparing meals for Parys to the seemingly insurmountable problem of trying to overcome people's prejudices about her disability.
"The way I am is not a big deal to me because it's something I've dealt with all my life. People say, 'If I was you, I would've killed myself' but who says I'm having a terrible life just because I'm disabled?
"Yes, I have a disability and yes, we can all see it but I don't have a problem with it so why should others?
"Sometimes people think Parys' au pair, Sylvia, is his mother because she is the able-bodied one and then when they find out he's mine, they're shocked."
Although he only celebrated his third birthday last week, Parys is already highly developed for his age.
If he falls over, he doesn't collapse into a heap of tears screaming for his mother but, instead, runs over to her to be cuddled. When he is out with Alison he never runs off as he knows she is unable to chase after him. But the boy Alison calls her "little miracle" was not planned.
"I honestly thought I would never have children and quite early on in my life had come to terms with that - throughout my childhood I was always told I was too disabled to carry a child and wouldn't be able to cope when it was born anyway.
"I got very broody as soon as I hit 30, but I had a really good career opening up before me and was perfectly happy with things."
Alison has kept the identity of Parys' father a secret from all but her closest friend. "I'm not in touch with his father, but I will tell Parys who he is as soon as he's old enough to understand. For now I just want him to enjoy his childhood."
Alison was living in a three-bedroom bungalow in Brighton, East Sussex, when in mid-1999 she discovered she was pregnant.
"I kind of suspected it had happened because I felt different but I still went and bought four home pregnancy tests to be absolutely sure. Every time one came out positive it was like 'No, no, no they're wrong' because I was in such shock.
"When it hit me, I phoned my gynaecologist in Worthing and had to battle with his secretary to see him. In the end I said 'OK, just tell him Alison Lapper's pregnant.'
"I got a call straight back and saw him the next day. He was wonderful and made me believe I could get through the pregnancy and be OK. I was absolutely terrified because I didn't want to go through it all and lose the baby halfway through or put Parys at risk somehow."
But although her gynaecologist was able to ready her for the birth itself, nothing could have prepared Alison for the prejudice she would suffer at the hands of strangers.
"I was already used to people making comments about me in the street, but they became much more hurtful when I started showing. There's a whole section of society which disapproves of single mothers so you can imagine how they felt about a disabled single mother.
"Once, when I was about six months pregnant, I was in the chemist's talking to a friend when these two old dears walked in. As I was leaving I heard them saying to her, 'Do you think that's right?'
"She told me afterwards they had said it was atrocious for someone like me to have a baby, as if I wouldn't be able to care for it or would be claiming benefits to bring it up."
In fact Alison relies on no Government handouts to raise Parys and instead uses the money she earns as a member of the Association of Mouth and Foot Painting Artists for his care.
Alison carried the baby for as long as she could - to 35 weeks - before he was delivered by Caesarean weighing 5lb 9oz.
"It got to the stage where it got too painful and became difficult for me to move.
"From the moment he was born he was the most wanted child in the world."
The contrast with Alison's own start in life could not have been more marked. She was born with phocomelia, a congenital condition similar to that caused by Thalidomide, and was sent away by her mother when she was six weeks old.
She has never met her father, who left before she was born, but is still in touch with her mother, who made contact again when she was four.
Alison was sent to Chailey Heritage School, which caters for extremely disabled children, and which generous Mirror readers supported in our Christmas appeal this year.
"My mother was advised to send me away because the thinking in those days was that it was better all round to keep children like me in a home.
"I was never angry with her and I've always maintained if I hadn't gone to Chailey Heritage School I might not be the independent person I am today. As children we used to go on day trips and people would pat us on the head and give us money because when you're a kid, you're cute.
"But when you hit the terrible teens you're no longer cute and people's reaction to me changed - I suddenly realised I was different. It sounds strange but, until then, I hadn't realised I was disabled. I was too busy being a kid."
After becoming headgirl at the East Sussex school when she was 16, Alison left a year later and, after passing her driving test at 19, went to Chelsea in south-west London to study art.
"Until then I had worn artificial legs but when I
was 23 I got a sore and was persuaded by a friend to go out nightclubbing without them which was a really big deal for me. Then I got chatted-up and I thought, 'Why am I wearing these things? I can be 3ft 11ins and still get chatted up.'"
ALISON started seeing a man who was 14 years her senior in 1984 and three years later they married, but it didn't last.
Shrugging, Alison says: "We all make mistakes, but I don't regret getting married because it was a learning experience for me. I think he wanted a housewife and a mother, but there was no way I was ready for children or to be stuck at home all day. I wanted a career which I think he found threatening.
"I know I look different but all my organs are the same. I still have feelings and emotions. Because you are physically disabled, people think your brain doesn't function, that you lack empathy, sexuality or passion.
"My work is about challenging these preconceptions and that's why it's so great to get an MBE. Women don't have to be 6ft tall and anorexic and I don't aspire to be like that at all, thank God.
"I would love to be in a women's fashion magazine
or to go down a catwalk as I am. Why not?"
Alison is adamant she didn't bring Parys into the world to help her. "He's got his own path to lead but it warms my heart when he does things because he wants to and not because he's made to.
"Sometimes he looks up my sleeves for my arms and I have to say, 'No, darling. They're not there.'
He is quite protective of me already. If I stumble he'll try to catch me, even though he's so tiny or when I get in my car he'll put my glasses on for me.
"I knew early on I'd have to be able to control him by voice and it's got to the stage where if I say 'Please stop' and he doesn't, I say 'Right, get in the corner please' and he does. He knows by my tone of voice where I'm coming from.
"You look at him and think, 'Wow, you are so grown up and mature.' But I know we couldn't cope without help, which means I've never really had my little boy to myself. I'm also very aware that if I lose my care then Parys could be taken away from me, which is my biggest fear.
"But for now, we are just enjoying being a normal family."
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/allnews/page.cfm?objectid=12543254&method=full&siteid=50143