By Laura Johnstone – The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey
It’s strange how a global event can completely reroute your life.
When the pandemic hit, I never imagined how deeply it would change not just my daily routine—but my sense of self, my career, and my purpose.
Before all of this, I was working as a podiatrist. I had trained so hard for that degree. I struggled with learning to read, I have dyslexia and suspected ADHD and autism, and I didn’t pass English until much later than expected. So, qualifying as a podiatrist was a huge personal win. But I came very close to failing, and looking back, I think it’s because I hadn’t quite found me yet. I knew I wanted to help people—but I was still figuring out how.
Then in 2019, I had sepsis. It nearly took my life. And even though I physically recovered, my mind and body didn’t. I developed Post-Sepsis Syndrome, which brought with it extreme fatigue, brain fog, and ongoing physical weakness. Some days I felt like a shell of who I was before.
When the pandemic began shortly after, my mental health spiralled. The fear, the hospital memories, the trauma—it all resurfaced. That was when I had to be honest with myself. Podiatry—especially dealing with needles and anaesthetics—was no longer the right fit for me. I knew I needed to make a change.
Everyone used the word pivot during the pandemic. It became a bit of a cliché. But that’s what I did. I started teaching Sepsis education, sharing my story in schools, hospitals, and to health professionals. I felt like I was doing something meaningful. But the truth? It was exhausting emotionally. It took me right back to that dark place—lying in a hospital bed, minutes from death. I realised I couldn’t keep opening that wound over and over again.
So, I went back to something I used to do before—beauty therapy. It felt safe, creative, and like a fresh start. But even that had its challenges. Because of the Post-Sepsis Syndrome, I was still tired all the time. My muscles ached, and even though beauty therapy was familiar, it was physically demanding and often painful. I didn’t want to admit it, but my body was telling me that I couldn’t keep pushing through like I used to.
Then, life changed again.
I became a mum. And not just any mum—but a NICU mum. A mother of a premature baby. That experience cracked me wide open. All the grief I’d buried from losing my twin brother at birth… it all came back. The fear. The unknown. The deep loneliness. The questions that no one seemed to be answering.
So, I decided to create what I wish I’d had.
Now, I’m the founder of The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey, a space for parents who feel like they don’t fit the mould. For parents of premature babies. For neurodivergent parents raising neurodivergent kids. For families who’ve experienced baby loss and have never found a safe space to talk about it. For people who’ve battled trauma, mental health, and still want to give their children the best start in life.
I’m building a community and a platform that is accessible. Because so many websites are full of medical jargon or just plain confusing. I want families to find comfort, not confusion. I want them to feel seen.
And for those like mine—who didn’t know where their baby was buried, who never got to grieve properly—how are you meant to move on from that? You can’t. Not really. But you can move forward, together. That’s what I’m here to help with.
If my story resonates with you, please like, comment, and subscribe to this blog. Share it with someone who needs to hear that they’re not alone.
Let’s keep growing together.
References & Resources:
• NHS: Post-Sepsis Syndrome
• UK Sepsis Trust: Life after sepsis
• Tommy’s: Premature birth support
• SANDS: Support for baby loss
• Mind UK: Mental health support
• The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey: Home
How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?
The bad and your parenting journey 