There’s no one to blame for a cleft palate

I was born with a cleft lip.

This was in the 1960s but, judging the results even today of the plastic surgeon who reassembled my face, it’s obvious I had excellent help – with scarring on the cupids bow on my lip and on the philtral column between the nose and lip barely visible.

I was fortunate to escape a cleft palate, but only just, with my party trick being able to fit a medium sized egg into my mouth and close my jaws without breaking it. Yes, I was a weird child growing up.

Of course, being punched in the mouth with braces on while competing in a South African national karate competition during my teen years did little for the aesthetics of the inside of my upper lip.

My mother never really forgave herself for it, even though I never really worried about why it had happened and certainly never blamed her. And neither should parents of children born with it.

Almost nothing is known about it, or its causes. My mom had a bout of flu in her first trimester and she believed it may have been the cause, but it didn’t really matter because there’s little to be done with the baby still in the womb.

All you can do is love your child and do the best you can. Don’t waste energy on blaming yourself.

It will sap the energy you’re going to need when your child begins surgery when they’re only months old.

And the news that there are support groups available is great.

Use them, you’re not alone.

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