Nicole Craword, 26, shares her story of being a mum - and a quadriplegic.

My mum, Sandra, gently lifted my chin and guided a spoonful of soup into my mouth. I tried to smile to show my gratitude, but it was hard given the circumstances. When I was 18, I’d been travelling in the back seat of a car when we’d nose-dived off a sand dune and flipped over. When I woke up in hospital six weeks later, doctors told me I’d broken my neck. I was paralysed from there down and I’d never walk again. After nine months in rehab at the spinal unit, I had to move in with Mum, who’d made her entire house wheelchair friendly for me. She was amazing, barely leaving my side as I adjusted to my new ‘normal'. Without batting an eyelid, she fed, changed and bathed me, just like she had when I was a baby. I grieved the loss of my old life. At the time of the accident, I had a full-time traineeship at a childcare centre in the hopes of one day becoming a teacher. I’d dreamed of travelling the world, meeting someone, getting married and having kids. Now I felt like I’d have to say goodbye to all of that. But Mum’s positivity really rubbed off on me. “You can still do anything you want,” she encouraged. Post continues.

But would I ever be a mum?

I really wanted to believe it, but with no feeling from the neck down, I was sure work and travel wouldn’t be possible. And my dream of being a mother was gone forever. A couple of years after the accident, Mum helped me buy a block of land in Sydney so I could build a house. As we made plans for the house where Mum, my two aunties Larrie and Spud, my brother Mitchell, 23, and I would all live, I asked if we could fit in one more little room. “It’s for a nursery,” I told Mum. “Just in case.” “We’ll make it happen,” she promised. And she was true to her word. As soon as we’d all settled in, I asked my spinal doctor if it would be possible for me to have a baby.

Me with my auntie and Reagan.

“That’s quite rare for people with quadriplegia,” she told me. “But it can be done.” I was referred to IVF Australia, who took my case to an ethics committee. As I wouldn’t be able to do things like hold, feed, or change my baby myself, they needed to ensure I had full family support. With Mum and my aunties there to help, they concluded there was no reason I couldn’t pursue intrauterine insemination. “I can’t believe this is really happening!” I cried, ecstatic. “I’ll be behind you every step of the way,” Mum reassured.

At just 24, I started IVF

We found an anonymous sperm donor and, aged 24, I started the process. It took 13 months and five rounds of assisted conception, at a cost of $20,000, before I finally got the news I’d been waiting for. The joy I felt was overwhelming. I needed to be monitored very closely throughout the entire pregnancy. Thankfully, other than a little bit of morning sickness, my first trimester went smoothly. But at 27 weeks, I contracted viral pneumonia, which is very serious for quadriplegics. As always, Mum was right by my side and I recovered well. We loved seeing my baby bump grow and she took me shopping for baby clothes and everything else my little one would need. “I can’t wait to be a nanna,” she said, beaming. At 34 weeks, I went into early labour. I couldn’t give birth naturally so I was taken in for a C-section. It felt surreal as I was wheeled into theatre – I’d spent the worst days of my life in hospital but now here I was again, for the most magical reason.

My gorgeous little boy.

And then there was a perfect little boy

My beautiful little boy, Reagan, came into the world weighing 2.26kg. He was absolutely perfect. The doctor placed him on my chest and Mum moved my arms so they wrapped around him to give him his first cuddle. I truly felt like the luckiest person alive. Mum took a year off from her job as an insurance consultant to help me with Reagan. “Put him on my chest again,” I’d ask her. That was the only way I could feel him – when I was close enough to lean my head forward and kiss his chubby cheeks. If I couldn’t cuddle him, I’d make up for it in kisses. My aunties and Mitchell all help out with Reagan, too, and we love watching him thrive. He’s five months old now and already sleeping through the night. His cute little giggles bring smiles to all our faces. After the accident, I knew I’d never have a normal life, but I’m so blessed to be a mum and to feel my little boy’s face when I kiss him.

Me, Mum and Reagan.

Nicole's mum Sandra: