By Laura Johnstone – The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey
If you’d asked me this morning, “Is there something you haven’t done that you should have?” — the answer would have been a resounding yes. And not just any yes — a yes that came with tears in my eyes and exhaustion in every fibre of my being.
Because this morning, I felt completely broken.
Amelia has only ever slept through the night once since she was born. One single night. And she’s now well past the baby stage. That means years of broken sleep — years of putting her needs before my own. Years of pushing through when I should have pressed pause. And the thing I should have done much earlier?
Ask for help.
I should have reached out sooner. I should have said, “I’m not okay,” instead of pretending I could carry on. I should have acknowledged the toll it was taking — not just on my mind, but on my body too.
Because the truth is, sleep deprivation affects everything. It makes it harder to think, to cope, to stay calm. It affects your immune system, your memory, your relationships. And for me, it worsens my POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). When I’m this run down, I pass out more. The chronic fatigue becomes unbearable. I find myself wondering how I’ll get through the day, and then the guilt sets in. I feel like I’m failing Amelia, even when I’m doing my very best.
But today, something shifted.
I asked for help.
I reached out to the Health Visitors team. I admitted that I can’t keep pouring from an empty cup. And that single step — that decision to say “I need support” — reminded me that asking for help is not weakness. It’s survival.
I used to think I had to hold it all together. That somehow asking for help meant I wasn’t coping or wasn’t strong enough. But the truth is, asking for help is a form of strength. It’s recognising that your physical and mental health matter — and you can’t be there for your child if you’re constantly running on empty.
What makes it even harder is how Amelia has the energy of a rocket. She zooms around the flat like she’s fuelled by something cosmic, laughing, climbing, never still. Meanwhile, I feel like she’s draining my last reserves. And sometimes I genuinely believe she borrows my energy because I don’t know where else she gets it from!
So, if you’re asking yourself that same question — “Is there something I haven’t done that I should have?” — maybe your answer is like mine.
Maybe it’s time to ask for help.
Maybe it’s time to say out loud, “I’m struggling.”
And maybe it’s time to accept that needing support doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human.
Here’s what I’ve learnt the hard way:
Your wellbeing is just as important as your child’s. Sleep deprivation isn’t something to ignore — it’s something to treat. Support is available, but we have to take the first step to reach for it. You are never alone — even when it feels like you are.
So if you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and wondering if you’ve missed a step — this is your reminder. Don’t wait. Don’t suffer in silence. Speak up. There is nothing wrong with needing help — and there is everything right with accepting it.
You are doing an amazing job. You are not failing. And there’s no shame in being tired — only strength in rising each day and showing up again.
Let’s keep talking about the hard stuff.
If this post resonated with you, please like, comment, and subscribe to my blog The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey. Together, we can remind each other: we’re not alone.
References & Resources:
NHS: Sleep Problems in Children The Lullaby Trust: Safer Sleep Advice National Childbirth Trust (NCT): Tips on Coping with Sleep Deprivation POTS UK: Living with Postural Tachycardia Syndrome Bliss Charity: Support for Parents of Premature Babies [Contact your local Health Visitor Team through your GP or health centre]
Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?
The bad and your parenting journey 