Photo: Tallulah Fontaine
After my daughter was born, I couldn?t wait to share the news on Facebook. Holding off for even 24 hours felt like restraint. Two years later, when my son arrived, the urge to shout my love from the rooftops was just as strong. But in my first post about him, I did something dishonest. I shared his photo and key stats, and a message of gratitude and joy, but I neglected to mention that Colin was born with a malformed left hand. I shared subsequent photos of him too, but only images that wouldn?t draw attention to this. It was both strategic and subconscious, and it felt like deception.
Minutes after Colin?s birth, the doctor pronounced him ?perfect? and we started some skin-to-skin cuddles. An hour passed before we all realized his left hand was missing a finger and two others were fused together. What followed was a blur of tests and specialists, and an emotional roller coaster fuelled by postpartum hormones. We now know that one of Colin?s arm bones didn?t form properly in utero, a rare congenital abnormality. Some babies with the condition are born with no hand at all. In those first weeks, I yo-yoed between new-parent euphoria, heartache, fear and disbelief. When my tears stopped, I?d look at my husband, see his sadness and start all over again. I couldn?t shake the feeling that I?d done something wrong during my pregnancy and that Colin?s hand was somehow my fault. I also felt guilty for grieving, because many parents deal with far worse. Did I...