For years, I’ve shared my experiences as a parent, an advocate, and someone navigating the complexities of life with neurodiversity. I’ve spoken about premature birth, NICU stays, trauma, and the struggles parents face. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to tell you the full story—the one that shaped every part of who I am today.
Recently, as I reflected on my journey, I realised I had never truly sat down and shared it all, from the very beginning. So, in my latest podcast episodes, I finally did. And now, I want to share it here with you.
Born Too Soon: My Own Beginning
I was born at 28 weeks and five days, at a time when neonatal medicine wasn’t what it is today. I had a twin brother, Nicholas, but he didn’t make it. I survived, but survival wasn’t simple. I struggled to catch up, and even as I grew older, I didn’t realise just how much my early arrival had shaped my life.
Back then, there wasn’t the same support for parents who lost a baby. My mum had to grieve Nicholas while still fighting to keep me alive. No one talked about what it meant to lose a twin, to wonder who they would have been, or to feel that deep sense of absence that lingers even when you never got to know them.
A Childhood of Challenges
Growing up, I always felt different. I struggled at school, finding it hard to fit in. I was hard of hearing, dyslexic, and I didn’t learn to read until I was 13. But no one understood why. Back then, neurodiversity wasn’t something that was openly discussed, and instead of support, I often felt like I was failing.
It wasn’t just academic struggles. I always felt like I was trying to catch up in life, both physically and socially. I now know that my premature birth, combined with undiagnosed autism and ADHD, played a huge role in how I experienced the world. But at the time, I just felt lost.
Motherhood and the Past Repeating Itself
When I became pregnant with my daughter, Amelia, I had no idea how much my own story would come rushing back. I knew she would be early, but I wasn’t prepared for the emotional weight of watching my child fight for survival in the NICU—just as I had.
I realised then that my journey had come full circle. The fear, the uncertainty, the exhaustion—it was all so familiar. And yet, for the first time, I wasn’t the baby fighting to survive. I was the parent, watching, waiting, hoping.
And I was determined that Amelia’s story wouldn’t be one of struggle alone. I wanted her to have the support, understanding, and love that I had longed for. I didn’t want her to feel lost or like she had to prove herself just to be enough.
Why I Do What I Do
Looking back now, I see that everything I do—every book I write, every blog, every podcast episode—is rooted in this journey. In the fight to be seen. In the determination to make sure other parents and children don’t feel alone.
I talk about premature birth because I lived it. I talk about neurodiversity because I understand the frustration of not being understood. I talk about trauma because I’ve walked through it. And I talk about survival because it’s what I’ve done my entire life.
I never truly told this story because, in some ways, I think I was still piecing it together myself. But now, I want to make sure you know—if you’re struggling, if you feel unseen, if you’re carrying the weight of your own past while trying to build a better future—you are not alone.
I see you. I hear you. And I am walking this journey with you.
If this story resonates with you, please listen to my podcast episodes where I dive deeper into this journey. And if you haven’t already, subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey—because together, we are stronger.
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