Carly Bauert cried when her son Ollie was unexpectedly born with no thighbone. But now she tells Claudia Calleja how they are living up to a midwife’s prediction that they would do ‘amazing things’.

Teenager Ollie Curmi Bauert has just added freestyle kickboxing to his list of hobbies – because despite being born without a thighbone, he believes nothing is impossible.

The 13-year-old has Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency (PFFD), a rare congenital defect. In simple terms, he was born without a right upper femur bone, leaving his right leg distinctly shorter than his left.

His parents had no idea their son would have a limb difference when he entered the world on June 9, 2007.

“I had no idea what would happen,” his mother Carly recalls. “There was lots of talk about limb lengthening. I didn’t want him to go through a childhood of operations,” she says.

The family opted for prosthe­tics. As he started growing, as with all active toddlers, he wanted to move around, walk and run.

At the time, in Malta there were no prosthetic feet small enough for Ollie. “They made a piece of wood – like a little wooden foot. He learnt to walk on a little wooden foot at the bottom of his prothesis,” his mother recalls.

Carly is English and Ollie’s father is Maltese, and after the couple split up, mother and son moved to The Cotswolds, in England. The then two-year-old was able to access prosthetics from the NHS.

“One of the things I felt from day one was that it wasn’t about making him normal. He is normal. He’s normal as him,” she says.

In fact, Ollie led a normal life, going to school and making friends. However, life with a prosthetic leg did not allow him to keep up with friends on the playground.

A turning point

Then, when he was six years old, he saw the Paralympics. His mother had no idea that something was brewing in his young mind.

Ollie takes up the story.

“When I was six, I went to go see Santa after watching the Paralympics. Santa asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Mum was expecting me to ask for Lego or something. I asked for a running blade – about a week before Christmas,” he says.

That was a turning point. Carly realised, more than ever, that her son wanted be able to do what other children his age normally do – run, jump and play.

But Ollie’s body was still growing, and a blade cost about £6,000 per leg, which was not something she could afford. Apart from Ollie she had another three children to support: Ross, who is now 28; Fenella, 25; and Tobias Bauert, 22.

The family started campaigning for all children like Ollie to get a blade.

One of the things I felt from day one was that it wasn’t about making him normal. He is normal. He’s normal as him

Carly realised there were many children who wanted to participate in sports and other activities and was tireless in her efforts to raise awareness and funding, eventually being invited to the House of Lords to make the case for NHS assistance for children with disabilities.

Her persistence and perseverance paid off and, in 2013, Ollie was one of the first children in the UK to be given a blade by the NHS.

“At six-and-a-half he got his first blade. A child with a prosthetic uses 75 per cent more energy. They get very tired. The blade gives back energy as it is like a spring,” she says.

Ollie recalls: “I remember taking it to school and running with my friends for the first time.”

This was a game changer for Ollie. His work improved and he felt more confident. He finally fitted in with his peers. He could play hide and seek and keep up with them. The sky was the limit. Since then he has used a hand-cycle, raced using his blades and his racing wheelchair.

Meanwhile, while all this was happening, Carly was introduced to Limb Power, a UK NGO. They had heard about her campaign and she was offered a job as the administrator of a £1.5 million fund that the NHS allocated for activity limbs for children. She still administers the fund and works at Limb Power as a Family and Children Officer supporting families.

Supporting others

Ollie has got involved too, taking part in events organised by Limb Power, including the junior games, and helps with fund raising and mentoring children with limb differences. This month he will be racing 26 miles on his racing wheelchair.

He even came up with the idea of organising residential camps for families of children with a limb difference.

Ollie said: “At the moment I mentor children who, like me, do not have a limb,” he says. “I do my best to help them. Very often they don’t think they can do much like running, rock climbing. But, once you get them to do one of those big things, they start to believe in themselves more.”

His mother adds: “Mums and dads have time to talk and support each other during these camps. A lot of people with a limb different child feel isolated and need support.”

Mother and son now dream of bringing their expertise to Malta.

“We would love to come to Malta and do fundraising to help children in Malta. We are in talks with friends in Malta to see how we can support people who have a baby who was not quite how they expected,” says Carly.

This support is something Carly holds close to heart and it is something she first experienced when living on the island.

“There was a time when I needed to grieve the baby and the future I thought I was going to have,” she says, recalling the support of a midwife at the hospital. When she had Ollie, she did not break down despite the dramatic birth.

“I just didn’t cry because I was a mum and had three other children to look after. On the last night in hospital everyone was sleeping. I walked out of the room with my drip. I saw a young midwife and the tears just started. The midwife said: ‘We have been waiting for this.’ She took me into a little room. I cried for hours. Big snotty tears.

“I remember saying: ‘Why did this happen to us? I’m a good mum. I don’t take drugs. I didn’t even eat camembert when pregnant.’ The midwife said: ‘That is why you have him. Because you are such a strong family and you will support this child and do amazing things for other families.’ And here we are,” Carly says.

Then sometime after Ollie was born, the mother of a Maltese boy with a limb difference, who was then about 12 years old, contacted her.

“At the time everything was a bit of a blur and I don’t even remember her name. But I would love to find her. She reached out to me. It was so strong that connection, because I knew she knew exactly how I felt. It is one of the reasons I do what I do today,” she says.