When I was eight years old, I had a clear 10-year plan: I wanted to become a nurse. By the time I turned 17, I left school to begin an NVQ in Care, stepping confidently in the direction of that childhood dream. I was focused, determined, and thought I knew exactly what my future looked like.
But at 19, everything changed. I realised that nursing wasn’t the right fit for me. I shifted gears and enrolled in a beauty therapy course. While at college, Steiner Transocean Limited visited and opened up a whole new world. I knew, then and there, that working on cruise ships was what I wanted. And I did it—I spent three years working abroad before coming home and embarking on an entirely different path: I trained to become a podiatrist and graduated 10 years ago.
If you had asked me back then what my next 10 years would look like, I would have told you I wanted to work for the World Health Organization, focusing on diabetes care. That was the vision. The structured, well-planned, “grown-up” dream.
But then life happened.
In the past six years, I have survived sepsis, lived through a global pandemic, and experienced the deep isolation and depression that often follow giving birth prematurely. I became a mother. I became an advocate. I became someone who saw the world through different eyes.
It’s not that my earlier dreams weren’t valid—they were simply stepping stones to where I was really meant to be.
Since having my daughter, Amelia, I’ve found a new purpose. One born from lived experience and deep empathy. I want to help neurodivergent families and parents of premature babies not just survive—but thrive. I want to make sure they feel seen, heard, and supported.
I’m now pouring my heart into my newest campaign: raising awareness about the life-saving importance of donor milk for premature babies. And I’m using my voice, my writing, and my experiences to build a platform where parents can come to feel less alone.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as I approach my mid-40s, it’s this: a 10-year plan is all well and good, but sometimes life invites us to pivot. During the pandemic, we heard the word “pivot” a lot—and for good reason. Sometimes the greatest growth comes from surrendering the plan and following your heart instead.
When I was teaching about sepsis, I knew I was making a difference. But I also found myself anxious, overwhelmed, and caught in the clutches of PTSD. Human design taught me something powerful—especially as a Manifesting Generator: I am meant to do what lights me up. What brings me joy. And what truly brings me joy is helping families feel like they matter.
So wherever I find myself in 10 years, I know one thing will always remain: my why. And that’s to help others.
Are you a parent navigating the unexpected? Feeling lost or isolated?
You are not alone. Let’s connect, share, and grow together.
If this blog resonated with you, please like, comment, and subscribe. Let’s build a community where all families feel seen.
References:
NHS (2024). Donor Milk and Premature Babies: Why It Matters Bliss Charity (2023). Supporting Premature Babies and Their Families Human Design Collective. (2022). Understanding Manifesting Generators
Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
The bad and your parenting journey 