Why do You Vote? Here’s Why I Absolutely Do

Every day, I share a prompt that makes me pause and reflect. Today’s question was simple: Do you vote?

My answer? Most definitely yes.

From a young age, I was taught about the importance of using my voice. I vividly remember watching Mary Poppins and seeing Glynis Johns sing “Sister Suffragette”. That scene stayed with me. It was the first time I learned about the suffragette movement and the incredible courage of women who stood up and demanded to be heard—at a time when it was dangerous to do so. Their bravery lit a fire in me.

As a woman, I carry the legacy of those who came before me—those who marched, fought, and risked everything so that I could have a voice at the ballot box. Voting isn’t just a right; it’s a responsibility. It’s a way of standing up for my family, my community, and the future I want to build for my child.

I am left-leaning in my values. I believe in protecting public services, standing up for human rights, supporting working families, and building a fairer society where everyone has access to healthcare, education, and support—especially those who are neurodivergent or navigating life with complex needs.

When I vote, I’m not just ticking a box. I’m saying:

I care about healthcare, especially for premature babies and their families. I want better support for parents of neurodiverse children—and for neurodivergent parents like me and my husband. I believe in maternity and neonatal rights, in fairer pay, and in policies that reflect real life, not just statistics. I’m voting for inclusion, equality, and compassion in every part of society.

If I choose not to vote, I’m letting someone else decide what’s best for my family. And after everything I’ve been through—surviving birth trauma, navigating the NICU, learning how to advocate for a child who never stops moving—I know that my voice matters.

Your voice matters, too.

If you’re a parent reading this, especially one who feels unseen or unheard, I want you to know that turning up at the polls is one small but powerful way to say: We are here. We count. We care.

Call to Action:

If this resonated with you, please like, share, and subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey. Let’s make sure that families like ours are never left behind—and never go unheard.

References:

UK Parliament – History of Women and the Vote The Electoral Commission – Why Voting Matters Maternity Action – Rights for Pregnant Women and New Parents Mary Poppins (1964) – Scene featuring Glynis Johns as Mrs. Banks singing “Sister Suffragette”

Do you vote in political elections?

Finding My Purpose Through Prematurity and Parenthood

When Amelia was born nearly two years ago—small, fragile, and far too early—my world shifted in a way I could never have imagined. I had no choice but to face the very thing I’d always carried deep inside me: my own story. I was born at 28 weeks, a time when neonatal medicine was still in its infancy. My twin brother, Nicholas, didn’t survive. And for most of my life, I’ve spoken about that loss, about being premature, and about what it meant—but I never truly embraced how much it had shaped me. Not until Amelia.

In those early days in the NICU, watching her fight to breathe, I saw a reflection of my own journey. But I also saw something else: purpose.

It was a purpose I think I’ve always had, quietly growing inside me, but I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. I wasn’t ready to be the person who could turn pain into power, fear into advocacy, and grief into guidance. Last year, that all changed.

A Light in the Dark

Becoming a mum to a premature baby was the beginning of a new chapter—not just for me, but for my family. My husband Ryan has been my rock through it all. Watching him care so deeply, sacrifice his time, and stay strong even when we were falling apart gave me a renewed belief in the strength of love and partnership. Together, we’ve navigated trauma, sleepless nights, countless hospital appointments, and the emotional rollercoaster that comes with raising a medically complex child.

But Amelia—she is the spark that lit everything up. Her resilience, her determination, her joy even in the smallest of moments—it’s like watching a miracle unfold every single day. She has given me a reason to speak up louder, to write more honestly, and to build something that helps others feel less alone.

Why I’m Finally Ready

For years I thought I was just someone with a sad story. A premature baby who lost her twin. A girl who struggled to read until 13. A mum with birth trauma and PTSD. But those labels don’t define me anymore. What defines me is what I choose to do with that story.

And now, I choose to help. I choose to offer comfort, information, and solidarity to other parents walking similar paths—whether that’s sitting in a NICU feeling terrified, navigating neurodiversity in their family, or simply trying to hold it all together when it feels like everything is falling apart.

A Direction I Can Trust

My purpose has always been there—I just didn’t know how to recognise it. Now, I do. It’s in the words I write. The blogs I share. The podcast episodes I record. The conversations I have with parents who message me, desperate for someone who “gets it.”

Everything I do now is guided by a desire to make others feel seen and heard. To show them that it’s okay to struggle. That love, not perfection, is what matters. That there is always a way forward—even if you’re still figuring out the map.

Amelia and Ryan give me purpose. And through them, I’ve found a direction that feels right—one that I know I’m meant to follow.

If this blog resonated with you, please like and subscribe for more honest reflections on parenting, prematurity, and the power of community. Your support helps us reach more families who need to know they’re not alone.

References:

Bliss – For babies born premature or sick: www.bliss.org.uk Sands – Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Charity: www.sands.org.uk Tommy’s – Research and support for premature birth: www.tommys.org

What gives you direction in life?

The Unseen Impact of Losing a Twin: Growing Up with an Invisible Bond

When people think about twins, they often picture two children growing up side-by-side – sharing milestones, secrets, and a bond like no other. But what happens when one twin doesn’t survive?

For those of us who have lost a twin, life carries an invisible connection and an unseen grief that shapes us in profound ways – affecting our emotional resilience, our sense of connection to others, and even how we parent our own children.

Emotional Resilience Born from Loss

Growing up without my twin brother, Nicholas, shaped a resilience in me that I didn’t fully recognise until adulthood. As children, we often don’t have the words to explain the heavy feelings we carry. There was always a quiet gap in my life – a sense that someone was missing.

This kind of early grief teaches us how to sit with sadness and hope at the same time. It forces an early understanding of life’s fragility. Over time, this creates an emotional strength – a kind of inner scaffolding – that allows us to face life’s later challenges with a deep well of endurance.

Research shows that early experiences of loss can accelerate emotional maturity (Christ, N.A. 2000). While painful, these early lessons in coping become the bedrock of a strong, empathetic character.

Connection: Always Seeking, Always Building

The invisible bond with a lost twin often makes connection with others more meaningful – but also more complicated.

There is a longing for deep, meaningful relationships – a yearning to fill that quiet space left by the missing twin. Many of us who have experienced twin loss describe feeling a powerful need to protect and nurture others, sometimes to the point of overextending ourselves.

We seek connection – but we can also fear loss intensely. This can make friendships, partnerships, and even casual relationships feel more loaded with emotion.

Understanding this dynamic is crucial as we raise our own children. Recognising our need for connection can help us balance nurturing them deeply without projecting our own past grief onto their independent journeys.

Parenting Through the Lens of Loss

Losing a twin before memory begins does not mean the bond isn’t there. It lives in the background of your life, quietly influencing how you view the world – and how you parent.

For me, becoming a mother brought all those invisible threads to the surface. The fierce love, the acute worry, the overwhelming gratitude – they all felt amplified.

Many parents who have experienced early sibling loss develop a highly protective parenting style. We are often hyper-aware of how fragile life can be.

While this sensitivity can create a deeply nurturing environment, it can also lead to anxiety and overprotection if we are not mindful.

Finding the balance between protecting our children and giving them the freedom to grow is an ongoing process – one that requires self-compassion and reflection.

Being aware of our unique journey enables us to parent with both vulnerability and strength. It allows us to model emotional resilience, authenticity, and connection for our children – valuable gifts that will carry them through their own lives.

Final Thoughts

Growing up with an invisible bond to a lost twin is a lifelong journey. It shapes who we are in ways that are both tender and powerful.

If you have experienced the loss of a twin or any deep early loss, know that your emotions are valid, your connection is real, and your story matters.

As parents, embracing this part of ourselves can create a legacy of resilience, love, and deep human connection for the next generation.

If this blog resonated with you, I would love you to like, subscribe, and share it with others who might be walking a similar path. Your story matters – and you are never alone.

References:

Christ, N. A. (2000). Healing Children’s Grief: Surviving a Parent’s Death from Cancer. Oxford University Press. Segal, N.L. (2000). Entwined Lives: Twins and What They Tell Us About Human Behavior. Penguin Books. Woodward, J. (1998). The Lone Twin: Understanding Twin Bereavement and Loss. Free Association Books.

A Time for Reflection: My Birthday, My Twin, and the “What Ifs” That Remain

Each year, as this week approaches, I find myself becoming incredibly pensive. While for many people a birthday is a time of pure celebration — balloons, cakes, laughter and parties — for me, it is always a little more complicated.

You see, my birthday holds more than just the joy of another year lived. It also carries the bittersweet reminder of someone who is forever missing: my twin brother, Nicholas.

Nicholas was born with a severe birth defect and sadly, he didn’t survive. Growing up, I didn’t really understand how deeply this had impacted me. There were no resources, no counselling, no support groups for families back then. But over the years, especially once I became a parent myself, the layers of my grief began to reveal themselves more clearly.

As my birthday draws near every year, I inevitably find myself drifting into the land of “what ifs.”

What if Nicholas had survived?

Would we have been close, like the twins I see walking hand in hand down the street?

Would we have shared a mischievous bond, a secret language only we understood?

Would he have shared my passions? Or perhaps balanced out my challenges with his own strengths?

These questions are ones that can never be answered, but they still rise to the surface year after year, like waves that cannot be stopped.

One of the most healing moments in my life came in 2013 when we finally discovered where Nicholas was buried. For all those years, I had often visited a particular graveyard, sitting under a tree that somehow brought me peace — long before I knew that my twin brother lay resting there. Finding out that he had been under that very tree all along was like a missing piece of my heart finally sliding into place.

It showed me that the bond we shared was never broken. It had been there all along, even if I hadn’t fully understood it.

There is something deeply comforting about realising that connections — especially those formed before birth — can transcend time, space, and even loss.

If you are someone who finds certain times of the year emotionally heavy, please know that you are not alone. Whether you are a parent navigating your child’s milestones, a parent who has experienced loss, or someone who is exploring your own journey through neurodiversity and healing — your feelings are valid.

If this blog resonated with you, I would love for you to like, share, and subscribe. It helps us build a community of parents and families who understand that every story matters, even the ones that are written in the whispers of ‘what if.’

References:

Sands (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Charity), UK – www.sands.org.uk Twins Trust (Supporting Twins, Triplets, and More), UK – www.twinstrust.org

Why Listening to Your Body Is Essential: Lessons from My Journey to Avoid Burnout

In a world that constantly praises hustle culture and “doing more,” it can be so easy to lose touch with the most important guide we have — our own bodies. A few months ago, during a conversation with a friend, I found myself reflecting on why I hadn’t fully “gone all in” with some of my goals. It wasn’t lack of ambition or drive — it was fear. Fear of burning out, fear of pushing myself past the point of health, like I once did.

Back in 2020, I experienced serious burnout. It wasn’t just a case of feeling a bit tired — it was a full, physical and emotional collapse. Recovery took months, and even now, I can feel the echoes of that time whenever I stretch myself too thin.

Recently, as I’ve been undertaking my personal project of writing 365 blog posts in 365 days, I’ve realised something powerful: we need to listen to our bodies before they scream at us to stop.

Setting Boundaries and Being Mindful

Although I am committed to posting my blog every day, I’m making a conscious decision to work smarter, not harder. That means more scheduling and batching content in advance — a way to honour both my goals and my wellbeing. This upcoming weekend is my birthday weekend, and I’m prioritising family time. That in itself is a major shift for me: acknowledging that rest and joy are just as important as productivity.

Being self-employed brings incredible freedom. You can choose your own hours, work around your children’s needs, and build a life that fits your values. But that freedom can also become a trap if you are not careful. When you love what you do, it is easy to work too much — and if you’re juggling family life as well, the line between “busy” and “burnt out” can blur dangerously fast.

Burnout doesn’t just rob you of your energy — it robs you of your creativity, your patience, and your ability to enjoy the life you’re working so hard to build.

What I’ve Learned About Avoiding Burnout:

Schedule regular breaks — not just when you’re already exhausted. Batch tasks like blog posts, emails, or social media content to avoid daily pressure. Prioritise rest the same way you prioritise deadlines. Listen to your body’s whispers so it doesn’t have to scream. Allow yourself joy without guilt — family time, hobbies, or even just an early night.

A Gentle Reminder for You

If you are also navigating parenthood, neurodiversity, or self-employment — or all three — please remember: you are not a machine. You are allowed to pace yourself. You are allowed to prioritise being well over doing everything.

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is pause, even when the world tells us to push.

If you enjoyed this blog and you want more reflections on balancing life, parenthood, and self-care, please like and subscribe. Your support means the world, and helps spread the message that taking care of yourself is the first step to building a life you love.

References:

NHS. (2024). Burnout symptoms and recovery. Mind UK. (2023). How to manage stress and burnout.

Following My Heart: How Special Interests Shaped My Life and Business

Today’s blog prompt was a beautiful one:

What are the things you like to talk about?

For me, this question goes much deeper. It feels like asking, what are my special interests?

When I stopped to think about it, it all came together so clearly.

I have several special interests that I could talk about for hours:

Prematurity and supporting families through their neonatal journeys Neurodiversity, both personally and professionally, as a mum and individual Mum life, and the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it Being true to yourself, especially when the world expects you to fit a mould Diabetes and diabetic foot care, an area of deep professional expertise Foot care in general, because prevention and early intervention truly matter

If you look closely at all these topics, you’ll see a common thread: I have always followed my gut and my human design. Even before I consciously realised it, my life choices have reflected what I needed to do, not what others thought I should do.

Why I Started My Business

I started my business to help families who are carrying invisible pain — whether that’s the trauma of a premature birth, navigating life with a neurodivergent child, or managing their own neurodivergence while raising a family.

I know that pain because I have lived it. I know that longing for someone to understand.

And now, I offer the support that I once desperately needed.

My Professional Journey

I originally trained as a Podiatrist with a specialist interest in Diabetes and prevention — because prevention truly is better than cure. My passion in this area led me to write my book Grandpa, Diet, and Diabetes (ad).

If you would like to read it, you can find it here:

Grandpa, Diet, and Diabetes by Laura Williams – Available on Amazon (ad).

But my drive to help people didn’t stop there. I also became a beauty and massage therapist, offering another way to bring comfort and healing into people’s lives.

Then, after surviving Sepsis — a life-altering experience — I became passionate about raising awareness of the signs and symptoms of this silent killer. Because knowledge can save lives, and sharing my story could make all the difference for someone else.

Following My Human Design

Writing this blog made me realise something profound:

I have always followed my heart. I have always followed my human design.

Even when I didn’t have the language for it, even when I didn’t consciously know what ‘human design’ meant, I was instinctively trusting myself.

Now, I listen even more carefully to that inner voice. It’s led me here — to this blog, this business, this purpose — and for that, I am truly proud.

If this resonated with you, please like this post, subscribe to my blog, and share it with someone who might need to hear these words today. Let’s build a community where no parent or caregiver feels alone.

References:

NHS. (2024). Sepsis – Symptoms and Treatment. Retrieved from www.nhs.uk Diabetes UK. (2024). Diabetes and Foot Care. Retrieved from www.diabetes.org.uk Human Design UK. (2024). What is Human Design?. Retrieved from www.humandesign.info

What topics do you like to discuss?

Why We Must Follow the Dreams That Live in Our Hearts

Because those dreams can change lives.

Yesterday, I had a day off. But not just a day off from work – a true pause. A chance to rest, reflect, and reconnect. From 9:30 to 2:30, I wasn’t in mum-mode. Amelia was in the loving care of her grandma and grandad – and when she’s with them, I genuinely relax. There’s a deep peace in knowing your child is safe with people you trust.

And with that peace, I could truly switch off.

I met my best friend for lunch in Brighton – a halfway point between our homes. We don’t get to see each other often, so when we do, it’s special. We caught up, laughed, and shared stories over lunch like no time had passed. Then I told her about my newest project – the Pumping for Preemies campaign. I showed her the children’s book I’ve written, The Magic Milk Bike, and then I read her the poem I’d written for the campaign.

As she finished reading, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “This,” she said, voice trembling, “is the most impactful thing you’ve ever done.”

I wasn’t expecting her response to be quite so emotional. She explained that 13 years ago, she had a miscarriage – something I remember vividly. It was heartbreaking for her, her husband, and honestly, for me too. I had felt helpless at the time, unsure of what to say or how to support her. And here we were, over a decade later, with my words – born from my own experiences of premature birth, milk expression, and loss – touching a part of her heart that hadn’t fully healed.

It reminded me just how powerful our stories can be.

When someone outside your immediate circle – someone you admire and trust – gives you that kind of validation, it hits differently. It grounds you. It reminds you that your message is needed, that your work is seen, and that you are making a difference.

I didn’t realise how emotional this campaign could be for other people. I had been so focused on the mums in the NICU, the expressing, the trauma and the exhaustion. But it’s reaching further. It’s opening doors to conversations that we’ve kept locked for far too long.

And yesterday, I felt something I don’t always allow myself to feel: proud.

Proud of how far I’ve come.

Proud of turning pain into purpose.

Proud that the dream in my heart is helping other people feel seen and heard.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve got a dream that feels too big, too heavy, or too bold – know this:

That dream is in your heart for a reason.

It’s not just a goal – it’s a calling.

And when you write it down, take that first step, and believe in it fiercely – it becomes a goal.

And that goal? You can absolutely smash it.

Because dreams that come from love, from loss, from truth – those are the dreams that change lives.

If this post resonated with you, please like, share, and subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey. Let’s build a space where every parent feels seen – whether they’re raising a NICU warrior, navigating neurodiversity, or simply trying to find a moment to breathe.

References:

The Magic Milk Bike – Laura Johnstone Pumping for Preemies Campaign – [Link to your site or info page] Miscarriage Association – https://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk Sands – Stillbirth & Neonatal Death Charity – https://www.sands.org.uk

When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

What Risk Have You Taken That You Don’t Regret?

If you’d asked me years ago whether I’d ever be grateful for being set up on a date, I’d have laughed. But honestly? Saying yes to that blind date was one of the bravest and best risks I’ve ever taken.

That one decision led me to a life I never imagined possible—married to an incredible, supportive man, raising our tornado of a child (who constantly amazes us), and being part of a new family that I absolutely adore. I know I’m lucky—I get on so well with my in-laws that my mother-in-law has become one of my best friends.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing from the start. On our second date, I initiated the first kiss—my heart was pounding, and I was scared to death. I knew Ryan was going to be important in my life, but I didn’t know if he’d end up being a best friend or something more.

Three months after we met, the world changed. A global pandemic hit, and we were faced with a choice: not see each other for months… or bite the bullet and move in together. We chose the latter, and it was, without a doubt, the best decision we’ve ever made.

The second biggest risk I took? Starting this—this blog, this platform, and my mission to support other parents, especially those navigating prematurity, trauma, and neurodiversity. I didn’t have a business plan or a big budget, but I had a heart full of purpose and a voice that needed to be heard.

It was terrifying to put myself out there. But I knew what it felt like to feel alone in parenthood—and I wanted to make sure no one else felt that way. Every blog post, podcast episode, and shared story is rooted in that risk. And every day, I’m reminded it was the right one.

What risk have you taken that you don’t regret?

Let’s celebrate those leaps of faith—big or small. They shape our stories in ways we often don’t expect.

If this resonated with you, I’d love for you to like, share, and subscribe to my blog.

Together, we’re creating a safe space for parents and carers—especially those walking a path shaped by NICU journeys, neurodiversity, and love.

Describe a risk you took that you do not regret.

“Is There Something I Haven’t Done That I Should Have?” – A Sleepless Mum’s Honest Answer

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?

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