«Before I even knew if I would ever become a mother, I decided I had to do something to build a new awareness among disabled women—the awareness that we could be mothers. When I became pregnant, I asked myself many times whether I should make my pregnancy public, whether that was the right tool. And that's how the campaigns #diversamenteincinta and #diversamentemamma came about. I shared my struggles during pregnancy and after my son was born».
So wrote Laura Coccia for Ombre e Luci, where she has been a contributor since 2020. In May 2021, she was describing an initiative that had gathered other experiences like her own—experiences that drove her to propose an institutional pathway, so far only at the municipal level in Rome, to establish a support line for pregnant women with disabilities.
And now, on International Women's Day, the association "Disability, Independence, Motherhood — DisabledMothers" officially launches. Starting from that hashtag shared on social media, five mothers with disabilities caused by cerebral palsy—Samanta Crespi, Antonella Tarantino, Pina Fadda, Margherita Rastiella, and Laura Coccia—have gradually built a growing community of women.
Laura Coccia, the group's spokesperson, explains: «We are women united by the loneliness we experienced during pregnancy and in our children's early years. The internet and the world around us offer all possible information about pregnancy and motherhood, but nothing about motherhood for disabled women. Each of us hit the wall of inaccessible gynecology and obstetrics wards. We had to rely on doctors who had no specific experience and no scientific literature to draw from. The association exists to put our experience to work, to offer support and advice, but also to build networks and sustain one another».
Antonella Tarantino, the association's president, explains: «We do this to show that disability doesn't make you different—that you can have a full, normal life in every way. We believe that sharing our association can help many disabled women who have children, who want to have children, and parents of disabled children who, through us, can glimpse what their children's future might look like (and it's not so different from any other child's)». They do this work freely, through «videos and articles» that capture «their everyday lives with their children» and draw on «the expertise of gynecologists, midwives, psychologists, social workers, physiatrists, lawyers, and others».
The prejudice against the possibility and desire of motherhood for a disabled woman weighs heavily.
Samata Crespi, the association's secretary, describes the profound isolation she felt on a journey that lost all public health support once she turned eighteen. «I couldn't find anyone like me on the internet, and becoming a mother was a challenge. My husband supported me, but too many people—even in healthcare—tried to talk me out of it». She continues: «Nobody ever talks about disabled parents, but disability doesn't prevent you from having a rich emotional life or becoming a parent. When I became a mother, like all mothers do, I found myself managing new things, new needs, sometimes afraid I wasn't up to it. That happens to all new mothers—but usually they're encouraged. The same should happen when the mother has a disability, even if it takes a little more imagination». Imagination that these five women have shaped into something real: a different kind of pregnancy, leading to an association we hope will support and advocate for the entirely ordinary needs of women who are «neither mad nor heroic» but «simply mothers».