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A spot of bother

When I saw the mark on my daughters face, my worst fears came true...


Published by: Amy Thompson and Lucy Laing
Published on: 23rd June 2010

You can’t help wondering what your kids will look like when they’re born – which little parts of yourself you’ll see reflected in their faces.
We all wonder if they’ll have our nose or our partner’s eyes. There’s so much anticipation in those 40 weeks of pregnancy.
Only, when I’d fallen pregnant with each of my kids, there was one thing I prayed they didn’t inherit from me – my birthmark.
It’d started as a tiny ‘scratch’ on the left side of my nose – but as I grew so did the birthmark.
By the time I was three, the red bump covered most of the left side of my face.
Doctors removed it bit by bit, with five operations over two years, but that did not stop the bullying at school.
Where my birthmark had grown, it’d given me a lazy left eye, and I had to wear an eye patch over my right eye to help correct it.
‘Did someone poke you?’ the kids in infant school would ask, giggling. ‘Don’t talk to her, she’s a pirate!’ others taunted.
Kids can be so cruel.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Mum would reassure me, though, when I went home in tears. ‘Hold your head up high, and be proud.’
I’d nodded, determined not to let other people’s opinions bother me.
But even though my birthmark was soon nothing but a small scar at the top of my nose, and I no longer had to wear the eye patch, the nasty jibes stayed with me.
I had a couple of close friends, who lived down my street, but I was never the social butterfly I might’ve been.
So when I fell pregnant with my first daughter April, of course I was worried for her. What if she had to go through what I had? What if things were even worse for her?
Scanning her tiny face when she was born for the faintest sign of an unusual mark, I breathed a sigh of relief. She was perfect.  
‘Ten fingers, 10 toes and no birthmark,’ I smiled happily to my hubby Carl.
‘Don’t know what you were so worried about,’ he grinned back, kissing me. ‘She was bound to be gorgeous, no matter what.’
Thing was, try as they might, no one could truly understand how looking different could affect someone.
It’s one thing to be overlooked because you might not be the best looking person in the world, but to be stared at, judged by everyone who walks past…
I cringed at the memory of one woman who’d approached me outside a shop.
‘If your mummy’s been hitting you, you can talk to me,’ she’d whispered, looking concerned.
‘It’s just my birthmark,’ I’d muttered, shyly.
Poor woman, she’d only been trying to help, but how I’d wished I’d been invisible.
Luckily, my second daughter Jessica didn’t have the mark either.
But when my third daughter Leah came along, my heart leaped into my throat – there, on her left cheek, was a tiny mark.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ the midwife reassured me.
I wasn’t convinced. Taking Leah to the same doctor who’d treated me as a youngster, he confirmed it was a birthmark.
‘We’ll have to keep an eye on it,’ he said. ‘Try not to worry, it may not be as bad as yours was.’
Maybe, but maybe it’d be worse. Emotions surged through me. I wanted my little girl to have the life I hadn’t, free from strangers staring in the street. On the other hand, I’d lived through it and become a stronger person.
Whatever happened, I vowed to be by Leah’s side. She’d never have to feel the way I had.
Watching her grow, I waited anxiously for the mark on her face to follow suit. By the time she was two, it was only as big as a 2p coin – nowhere near as bad as mine. It still drew stares, though.
Dropping her off on her first day at school when she was four, my heart was pounding.
After having our son Aaron a year after Leah, me and Carl had split up. Poor Leah had enough to deal with without people making a fuss over her birthmark.
Please let her be okay, I worried.
‘That’s a nasty bruise,’ said her teacher when she saw her.
‘It’s not a bruise…,’ I began, hoping Leah hadn’t heard.
But before I could explain, Leah stepped in front of me looking up at the teacher.
‘It’s my birthmark,’ she piped up, flashing a grin. ‘Mummy had one when she was little, too.’
I stared at her stunned. Leah wasn’t at all fazed by people looking at her, or asking questions.
When I picked her up later that day, she’d already made tons of new friends. And a few weeks later, she came home with a letter.‘We’ve got to do a show and tell at school,’ she said.
‘It says you’ve got to take in something red,’ I said. ‘How about your dolly with the red dress, or your red shoes?’
‘No,’ Leah shook her blonde curls, hopping on to my lap. ‘I know what to take.’
‘What then?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘My birthmark!’ she beamed.
I laughed. ‘In that case, I’ve got something to show you,’ I smiled, pulling out an old photo album.
‘This was me when I had my birthmark,’ I said, pointing at a picture of me in my granddad’s arms, a purple lump the size of a plum covering my eye and nose.
Leah’s eyes narrowed as she looked from the photo to me, trying to match the faces and drawing a blank.
‘That’s not you,’ she chuckled.
‘It is,’ I said, kissing her.
‘We’re special aren’t we, Mummy,’ she grinned, touching the scar on my face.
I nodded proudly.
Suddenly, I realised all the months I’d spent worrying over Leah having a birthmark like mine were pointless. My little girl took it all in her stride. Just like me, she was a stronger person for it.
Leah’s now five, and her birthmark has shrunk to the size of a 5p piece. Doctors think it might fade by itself and she won’t have to have operations to remove it.
Two years ago, I met Rob, 24, and now we have a seven-month-old daughter, Amy. I didn’t worry about her inheriting my birthmark, though. Me and Leah have a special bond because of it.
To us, it’s nothing to feel ashamed of – it’s a mark of the strength and love we share. I always thought I’d have to protect my girl from the stares and comments, but Leah’s proud of who she is, and so am I.
Mandy Bevan, 28, Gloucester