If I Could Be Any Character, I’d Choose Ruth Bader Ginsburg (RBG) – Here’s Why

When I read today’s prompt — “If you could be any character from a book or movie, who would it be and why?” — I paused for a moment. So many names and faces flashed through my mind, from brave fictional warriors to real-life pioneers portrayed on the big screen. But after much thought, there was one name I kept coming back to: Ruth Bader Ginsburg (RBG).

RBG wasn’t just a character in a film — she was a real person whose life and legacy were so remarkable that they inspired books, movies, and most importantly, change. Her story wasn’t just one of success — it was one of perseverance, compassion, intelligence, and relentless pursuit of justice.

Why RBG?

Because she embodied everything I admire and strive to be:

• Kindness with strength

• Compassion backed by courage

• A belief in equality that wasn’t just spoken but acted on every single day

Ruth Bader Ginsburg made history not because she wanted fame, but because she wanted fairness. She stood up for those whose voices were silenced. She changed laws so that women, families, and future generations could live with more dignity and freedom. And she did it all with grace, humility, and fierce determination.

What This Means For Me as a Mum

I want to raise my daughter to believe — no, to know — that she can be anything. That she can take up space, speak up, challenge injustice, and live a life full of meaning. I want her to grow up knowing that being kind doesn’t mean being quiet, and that strength doesn’t always roar — sometimes it’s a whisper that refuses to back down.

Choosing RBG as the character I’d want to be isn’t really about pretending. It’s about being inspired. It’s about holding on to a vision of a better world and working every day to help create it — not just for me, but for my daughter, and for every parent raising a child in a world that still needs change.

If this resonated with you, please like, comment, and subscribe for more real, heartfelt reflections on parenting, neurodiversity, prematurity, and the moments that shape us. You’re not alone on this journey. Let’s grow together.

References:

• RBG (2018) – Documentary film on the life of Ruth Bader Ginsburg

• Carmon, I., & Knizhnik, S. (2015). Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg

• Supreme Court of the United States: Legacy of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?

Why I’m Seriously Considering Getting a Service Dog for My POTS Syndrome (Even Though I’m Allergic to Dogs)

Living with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) is a daily battle. Some days I can manage, others I feel like I’m stuck in a body that simply won’t cooperate. Parenting with POTS, alongside being autistic, having ADHD and dyslexia — while raising a neurodivergent toddler — can feel like an extreme sport with no instruction manual.

But recently, I’ve found myself looking into something I never thought I’d seriously consider: getting a service dog.

Yes — even though I’m allergic to dogs.

What Could a Service Dog Help Me With?

Service dogs for POTS are specially trained to:

• Bring water or medication when I start to feel faint

• Alert others if I collapse

• Offer deep pressure therapy during moments of anxiety or dysregulation

• Assist with mobility and balance

• Interrupt dissociative or shutdown episodes

For someone like me, this support could be life-changing. It’s not just about the practical help, but also about the confidence and freedom to go about life without constant fear of fainting or freezing. It’s about showing Amelia what it looks like to adapt and advocate for your needs.

But… I’m Allergic to Dogs

This is the twist in the tale. I’m allergic to dogs, and I don’t just mean a little sneeze — I get skin irritation, congestion, and sometimes fatigue. It’s frustrating, because the very support I could benefit from might also make me unwell.

But I’ve been doing my research. Some breeds — like poodles, labradoodles, and Portuguese water dogs — are known to be more allergy-friendly. They’re not technically hypoallergenic (that’s a bit of a myth), but they shed less dander, which helps. I’d also likely need to take daily antihistamines, invest in an air purifier, and keep the dog well-groomed.

Is it ideal? No. But for the chance to regain some independence and feel safer when I’m on my own or out with Amelia — it might be worth it.

Ryan’s Support and Family Impact

Ryan has been brilliant. He’s seen the impact of POTS up close: helping me up when I’ve hit the floor, watching me struggle to stay upright long enough to cook dinner or chase after Amelia. A service dog could be another pair of paws in our little team, giving us both peace of mind.

Amelia loves animals, and the idea of growing up with a support dog could be a beautiful part of her childhood. It would also help her see that support isn’t a weakness — it’s something we choose to build a life that works for us.

Exploring Next Steps

I’m currently looking at UK charities and organisations that train assistance dogs for people with disabilities, and exploring whether a private trainer might work better — especially if we need a dog that suits my allergy needs.

This decision isn’t being taken lightly. It’s about investing in a better quality of life. It’s about saying: Yes, I live with a condition that affects my day-to-day — but I’m allowed to seek help. I’m allowed to make my life easier. I’m allowed to thrive.

If you’ve ever considered getting a service dog — or you already have one — I’d love to hear your thoughts. What worked for you? What challenges did you face? Let’s create a space where support and creativity go hand-in-paw.

If this blog resonated with you, please like and subscribe for more stories on parenting with POTS, neurodivergence, and finding hope and humour in the chaos.

References:

• STARS Charity – www.stars.org.uk

• Assistance Dogs UK – www.assistancedogs.org.uk

• POTS UK – www.potsuk.org

• Allergy UK – www.allergyuk.org

What animals make the best/worst pets?

If There Was One Job I Could Do for Free, It Would Be This One

If there was one job I could do for free—and truthfully, already do—it would be this: being an auntie.

It’s not listed on any CV. It doesn’t come with a salary, a pension, or holiday leave. But it’s a role that has brought me some of the most meaningful, joy-filled, and proud moments of my life.

Twenty-four years ago, I held my first niece in my arms and felt a kind of love I’d never experienced before. It was immediate, fierce, and pure. I was young myself, but I knew even then that this little person had changed my world forever.

And then—just when I thought my heart had reached its full capacity—my sister became pregnant again. I remember feeling slightly afraid. Could I possibly love another child just as much? Could that magic happen again?

And then, 21 years ago today, she arrived. And the moment I met her, I realised something beautiful: the heart always has room for more love. It doesn’t split or dilute—it expands.

This post is for her.

She is now on university placement, stepping into her own future, and I keep seeing her pop up on LinkedIn. Every single time I see her face, or read about what she’s doing, I feel this overwhelming wave of pride. She’s doing incredible things, not just because of the achievements on paper, but because of the person she is.

She’s helping, she’s showing up, and she’s making an impact.

She’s always had the kindest, most empathetic heart. She has this magical ability to make you feel seen and valued. She’s got a wicked sense of humour, a spark for life, and she is endlessly thoughtful. Being around her is like being wrapped in sunshine. And truthfully? I sometimes feel like I don’t deserve the privilege of being her auntie. That’s how special she is.

I want to tell her today—and always—please never lose that warmth. That empathy. That gentle, funny, strong, kind soul that makes you you. Because the world needs more of that.

And when the time comes that someone new is lucky enough to walk beside her in life, I just want them to know this: you are truly the luckiest person in the world. Because to be loved by her, to be seen by her, is a gift beyond measure.

To my beautiful niece—thank you. Thank you for being an amazing niece, and for growing into an even more incredible woman. I am so proud of you. I will always be proud of you.

Being your auntie is the best unpaid job in the world. And it’s one I’ll never stop showing up for.

With love always,

Laura x

Call to Action:

If you’ve got someone in your life who makes you feel like this—whether it’s a niece, a nephew, your own child, or a chosen family member—let them know. Share this post, tag them, or send them a message. Love grows when it’s spoken aloud.

Don’t forget to like and subscribe to the blog for more stories about parenting, family, and neurodiversity. You are never alone on your journey.

References:

• Personal reflection by Laura Johnstone, author and parenting advocate

• “The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey” blog initiative

• University of Oxford (2023). The Power of Aunties in Family Systems.

• LinkedIn Insights (2024). How Young Adults Are Making an Impact During University Placements

What job would you do for free?

Why I’ll Always Watch the Paralympics (Even If I Miss the Olympics)

By Laura Johnstone

I’ve never really been one to sit down and religiously watch the Olympics. I admire the talent and the dedication, of course, but it’s never been something I grew up watching or felt deeply connected to.

That started to shift when I met my husband. He loves it. I have fond memories of us sitting together, snacks in hand, just soaking up the atmosphere—cheering for underdogs, holding our breath during finals, and having those late-night discussions about who might take home the gold. It became a little tradition of ours.

But the last Olympics? We didn’t watch it.

Having a one-year-old changes everything. Anyone who’s been in the trenches of parenting a toddler will understand what I mean. The idea of quietly watching anything uninterrupted feels like a distant dream. By the time she was in bed, we were just about functioning enough to find the remote, let alone follow a three-hour broadcast.

Still, there is one sport we always make time for, no matter the tournament—Olympics, European Championships, you name it. And that’s judo.

Why judo? Because for us, it’s more than a sport. It’s a family connection. My sister-in-law was part of Team GB’s judo team. Watching her compete, knowing the sacrifices and strength it took to get there—it brought the sport to life for us in a deeply personal way. Now, even if she’s not on the mat anymore, we still tune in, still cheer for every ippon, and still feel the adrenaline with every throw.

But if there’s one event that I never miss, that genuinely inspires me and fills my heart every time, it’s the Paralympics.

There’s something about the Paralympics that hits differently. It’s not just about strength or speed or skill—it’s about perseverance, grit, and defying expectations. These athletes are often told what they can’t do. And they show the world exactly what they can.

For someone who’s neurodiverse and has physical challenges of their own, the Paralympics remind me of the power of potential. They celebrate every kind of ability. They show that success doesn’t come in one shape, one speed, or one version of ability.

Watching the Paralympics isn’t just inspiring. It’s necessary. It helps reshape how society sees difference—and how we teach our children to see it too.

As Amelia grows, I hope she’ll watch alongside us. I want her to see that there are many kinds of champions. That greatness doesn’t come from ticking a box, but from showing up as your fullest self.

So while we may miss a few medal ceremonies, and we’ll likely have to pause and rewatch more than once thanks to a toddler climbing the furniture, we’ll always come back to the judo mat—and we’ll never miss the Paralympics.

Call to Action

Do you have a sport that connects your family together? Or a Paralympic moment that moved you? I’d love to hear about it. Share your thoughts in the comments—and don’t forget to like and subscribe for more honest reflections from our parenting journey.

References & Related Reading

1. Paralympics GB – Official Site

2. British Judo Association

3. Why Representation in Sport Matters – BBC Sport Article

What Olympic sports do you enjoy watching the most?

Why I’m Fighting for Change: Supporting the Neurodiverse and Prematurity Communities

Every one of us has a story that shapes how we see the world. Mine begins with being born at 28 weeks, in a time when neonatal care was just emerging. I survived, but my twin brother, Nicholas, did not. That early experience shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand until I became a mum myself—of a premature baby, during a traumatic birth, navigating NICU life with fear, hope, and heartbreak woven together.

Now, I use my story—and my voice—to create change for two communities that are close to my heart: families impacted by premature birth, and families living with neurodiversity.

Why This Matters

When my daughter Amelia was born early, I was immediately transported back to my own story. I knew the stats. I knew the risks. But nothing can prepare you for that helpless feeling of watching your baby fight for life in an incubator. The experience was raw, isolating, and terrifying—and I realised too many parents were going through it without the right support.

At the same time, my journey as a neurodivergent person—with dyslexia, suspected ADHD and autism—had already taught me the challenges of navigating a world that doesn’t always accommodate difference. My husband also has dyspraxia and dyslexia. And as we parent Amelia, who is full of curiosity, energy, and perhaps a little bit of our neurodivergence too, I knew this mission had to be broader.

What I’m Doing to Help

1. Creating Safe Spaces for Parents

I launched The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey—a growing platform where parents can feel seen, supported, and not judged. It’s home to blogs, books, a podcast, and social media content that speaks directly to families of premature babies and neurodiverse children. This is about honesty, empathy, and helping others feel less alone.

2. Raising Awareness Through Storytelling

My writing shares the reality of parenting after NICU, the unseen impact of trauma, and what it means to raise a child while navigating your own neurodivergent identity. Through blogs and children’s books, I give voice to experiences that are often left out of mainstream narratives.

3. Advocating for Policy Change

I’m passionate about neonatal leave and extending maternity pay for families with babies in NICU. The emotional toll is heavy—but the financial burden can be just as devastating. No parent should face debt while fighting for their baby’s life.

4. Campaigns Like “Pumping for Preemies”

Breastfeeding and expressing milk are hard enough—but when your baby is in intensive care, it’s a whole new level. I’m working on resources, info sheets, and outreach to hospitals to better support expressing mums—especially when trauma and guilt make everything harder.

5. Connecting with Others Doing the Work

From collaborating with baby loss advocates like Leanne (who bravely shares her story of maternal sepsis and the loss of her daughter Enya), to speaking with clinical teams and charities, I know real change happens when we work together.

The Bigger Picture

This isn’t just about helping one group or sharing one voice—it’s about creating a culture where neurodiverse families, and families with premature babies, are included, supported, and uplifted. It’s about rewriting the narrative and saying: You are not alone, and your story matters.

Whether you’re a parent, carer, teacher, nurse, or someone just trying to understand—your awareness, your words, and your actions can make a difference.

Let’s Do This Together

If you believe in building a world that embraces every child’s potential—whether they’re born early or think a little differently—please like, share, and subscribe to my blog.

Together, we grow.

References

• Bliss Charity – www.bliss.org.uk

• Sands – Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Charity – www.sands.org.uk

• Neurodiversity in Parenting – National Autistic Society – www.autism.org.uk

• Pumping for Preemies Campaign – Coming soon on The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey

How would you improve your community?

How Life Changed for Me Since the Pandemic: Finding My Voice Through Loss, Mental Health, and Motherhood

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?

How My Morning Routine Changed After Becoming a Mum – And the One Thing That Stayed the Same

By Laura Johnstone

There’s a lot of talk out there about having a “solid morning routine”—you know, the kind with yoga, green juice, journaling, and a perfectly made bed. But I think there’s something far more real (and meaningful) about a routine shaped not by perfection, but by love.

Before Amelia was born, I took part in a five-day self-care challenge, and one of the tasks was so simple, yet it completely changed how I started my day. We were asked to take three deep breaths before even getting out of bed, and during those breaths, say three things we were grateful for.

That practice stayed with me. In fact, I did it religiously during pregnancy. Especially on the hard days when everything felt fragile, uncertain, and overwhelming. Every morning I’d pause and say:

“I am grateful she’s still here.”

“I am grateful for another day of hope.”

“I am grateful that I’m not alone.”

Those breaths became my anchor. They still are.

But motherhood changed everything else.

Now, the mornings aren’t about me anymore. They start with changing Amelia’s nappy, sorting out her breakfast, making sure she’s hydrated and feeling okay. It’s a whirlwind most days. The kind of whirlwind that involves trying to drink a lukewarm cup of tea while negotiating toddler socks, Peppa Pig, and deciding if that suspicious quiet means she’s playing or plotting an escape.

There are days I look in the mirror and think, “Wow, I look rough.” But then I see Amelia—dressed, fed, smiling—and I remember: She looks well put together. And that’s a reflection of me. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.

I think that’s one of the biggest truths about parenting:

You stop putting yourself first—but you do it willingly. Gladly. Not because it’s easy, but because your child’s wellbeing becomes your greatest source of pride.

Still, I do one small thing for myself every single morning. I take those three deep breaths. I name three things I’m grateful for. It helps me to start from a place of hope. I don’t turn on the news—because let’s be honest, it’s often full of sadness, stress, and doom. I don’t want that energy in my space first thing. Instead, I choose gratitude. Even if it’s just for dry shampoo, a clean baby grow, and the fact Amelia slept through the night (or at least a bit longer than usual).

Some days are harder than others, especially when you’re dealing with birth trauma, navigating neurodiversity, or just trying to survive the toddler years on minimal sleep. But if you take one thing from this blog, let it be this:

You can find stillness, even in chaos.

You can ground yourself in gratitude, even if your feet haven’t touched the floor yet.

You’re doing a good job—even if the mirror says otherwise.

Call to Action

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear about your morning routine and what helps you get through the start of your day. Leave a comment, give it a like, and don’t forget to subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey for more real talk, support, and encouragement.

References

• Self-Care and Morning Routines: NHS Inform. https://www.nhsinform.scot/

• The Science of Gratitude: Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/basics/gratitude

• Maternal Mental Health Alliance. https://maternalmentalhealthalliance.org/

What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?

What Makes a Person Unique?

Daily Prompt Reflection – by Laura Johnstone

Have you ever stopped to think—what makes me, me?

Today’s daily prompt invites us to reflect on what makes a person truly unique. And for me, the answer isn’t simple. It’s a beautiful mix of nature, nurture, and life experience, shaped by how our brains work—whether we’re neurotypical or neurodiverse.

We are all born with our own personalities, our own rhythms, and quirks. That’s the nature part. Then we’re raised in families, schools, and communities—this is where nurture plays its role. For some of us, being neurodiverse adds another layer of complexity, richness, and yes, challenge. And while all these factors help shape who we are, I believe it’s our life experiences that truly make each of us unique.

Personally, one of the biggest shifts for me happened during the 2020 lockdown. Like many others, I found the world slowed down, and for once, I didn’t have to mask. I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t have to mould myself into what I thought others expected me to be. And in that stillness, I began to discover who I actually was.

Looking back at my childhood, I realise now how different I felt. I never quite fit in. I was often the target of bullying and struggled with reading. I was always a little more carefree, a little more childlike in how I saw the world. But over time, I learned to fit in. I learned to mask, to blend, to mimic. And somewhere along the way, I began to forget that being different was not a flaw—it was just me.

Now, as a parent—especially a neurodiverse parent raising a neurodiverse child—I realise how important it is to embrace our uniqueness. Not hide it. Not flatten it out to fit societal expectations. Our quirks, our ways of thinking, our creativity, and even our struggles—these are the things that make us human. These are the things that make us us.

So, what makes a person unique?

It’s the story they carry.

The resilience they’ve built.

The masks they’ve worn—and the courage it took to take them off.

Whether you’re neurodiverse or neurotypical, your experiences matter. You matter. And if you’re raising children—especially children who see the world a little differently—remember: you are helping them grow into the kind of adult who can own their story, not be ashamed of it.

Let’s celebrate what makes us different. Let’s raise our children to know that fitting in is never as important as being themselves.

If this blog resonated with you, please like, share and subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey.

Join our growing community of parents navigating life with empathy, strength, and a healthy dose of real talk.

References:

• National Autistic Society: https://www.autism.org.uk

• Neurodiversity Celebration Week: https://www.neurodiversityweek.com

• Psychology Today. (n.d.). What Makes You Unique? https://www.psychologytoday.com

Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?

Daily Prompt: If You Could Have Anything Named After You, What Would It Be?

When I saw today’s writing prompt—“If you could have anything named after you, what would it be?”—it got me thinking. Honestly? I don’t think I’d want anything named after me. No buildings, awards, or even a coffee blend (though I do love a strong cup of tea).

But I would want something to live on after me. Not my name, but my work. My heart. My empathy. My compassion. The way I support parents who are going through the hardest days of their lives—whether that’s in the NICU, facing birth trauma, navigating life with a neurodivergent child, or feeling like they’re not enough.

I want people to feel seen and understood. That’s what really matters to me.

If anything was to carry my legacy, I’d want it to be the ripple effect of kindness. Of real, raw support that helps parents feel less alone. I want my daughter to grow up knowing that showing empathy is not a weakness—it’s one of the strongest things you can do. I want her to see that her mum stood up, shared her truth, and tried to make a difference in a world that so often tells us to keep quiet and carry on.

We don’t need to be remembered with statues. We can be remembered in hugs, in shared stories, in the moments when someone says, “You helped me feel human again.”

So no, I don’t need something named after me. I just hope the impact I leave behind speaks louder than a plaque ever could.

Let me know—what would you want named after you? Or would you rather leave behind something different? Share your thoughts in the comments below. And if this resonated with you, don’t forget to like, subscribe, and share. Your voice matters, and I’m so glad you’re here.

References:

• Personal reflection and lived experience

• Daily Prompt inspiration from WordPress

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

What Happens When You Donate Milk? A Guide for Parents Considering Milk Donation

When you hear about babies in neonatal intensive care units (NICUs), especially those born too soon or too small, you might wonder how such tiny bodies get the nourishment they need to survive. For some, their own mother’s milk isn’t an option – and that’s where milk donors come in.

If you’ve ever considered donating your breastmilk, you might be curious about what the process actually involves. Where does your milk go? How is it stored safely? What happens before it reaches a baby in need?

Let’s take you through the journey – from your freezer to a NICU incubator.

Milk Donation Is Not a New Idea

While milk banks may seem like a modern innovation, the concept of sharing milk has been around for centuries. Wet nurses – women who breastfed another’s baby – were commonly used throughout history, especially in upper-class families or where mothers were unwell or had died. In fact, wet nursing was considered a formal occupation in many cultures.

Today’s milk banks are a continuation of that tradition, offering a safer, regulated, and more inclusive way for babies to receive human milk when their own parent’s milk is unavailable. It’s one of the most ancient forms of care, now backed by science and safety standards.

Who Can Donate Milk?

Before any milk is collected, milk banks follow strict criteria to make sure it’s safe for vulnerable babies. While the exact rules vary slightly depending on the milk bank, here are the general guidelines:

• You must be in good health and not taking medications that could pass through breastmilk (some exceptions apply – always ask).

• You’re a non-smoker, not using recreational drugs or regularly consuming alcohol.

• You’ve given birth in the last 6–9 months, though some banks may accept milk from longer ago.

• You usually need to be donating at least 100–150ml of milk.

• Blood tests are required for infections such as HIV, hepatitis B & C, HTLV, and syphilis.

• If you’re donating milk from home, freezer storage needs to meet safe temperature standards.

It’s okay if you don’t meet the criteria – your milk is still valuable for your baby. But if you do qualify, donating milk can be a life-changing act of kindness.

Keeping Milk Safe at Home

Milk collected at home must be handled with the same level of care you’d give to preparing milk for a premature baby. Here are a few safety guidelines to follow:

• Freezer Temperature: Your freezer must maintain a consistent temperature of -18°C or lower. Most milk banks will provide a thermometer and require regular logs to ensure compliance.

• Hygiene: All pumping equipment should be thoroughly washed and sterilised before and after each use. This includes pump parts, bottles, and storage containers.

• Label Clearly: Each bag or bottle of milk should be labelled with the date and time it was expressed, and your unique donor code if applicable.

• No Mixing: Don’t top up already frozen milk with fresh milk. Expressed milk should be frozen within 24 hours of collection.

Milk Collection – Sometimes by Bike!

Once you’ve built up a stash, your milk is collected and transported to the milk bank. Depending on where you live, this might be done via:

• Special courier services with cold chain systems.

• Volunteer drivers who are trained in safe milk transport.

• Or even milk bikes – yes, there are amazing volunteers who cycle across cities collecting milk in specially designed cool boxes!

Some milk banks provide insulated boxes and ice packs to ensure your precious donation stays frozen until it reaches the processing centre.

Pasteurisation and Testing

Once it arrives at the milk bank, your milk goes through a rigorous safety process before it’s sent out to hospitals.

1. Screening: The milk is checked for volume, temperature history, and any signs of contamination.

2. Pooling: Milk from several donors is often pooled to ensure consistency in nutrients.

3. Pasteurisation: The milk is heated gently to 62.5°C for 30 minutes, which kills harmful bacteria and viruses while preserving nutrients.

4. Testing: After pasteurisation, it’s tested again to ensure there’s no contamination.

5. Freezing: The milk is then frozen and stored, ready to be dispatched to NICUs across the country.

Giving Life to Tiny Babies

Donor milk can be life-saving for premature babies. Their immature digestive systems often struggle to handle formula, and their risk of serious gut infections (like necrotising enterocolitis) is much higher. Donor milk is the next best thing when mum’s own milk isn’t available.

Many parents – including myself – are forever grateful for donor mums who gave our babies a chance when we were recovering or struggling to produce enough ourselves.

Interested in Donating?

If you’re expressing milk and have more than your baby needs, donating could be one of the most powerful and generous things you’ll ever do. Not everyone is eligible, and that’s okay. But if you are, know that every drop could help a baby survive and thrive.

Ready to find out more?

You can contact your local milk bank through the UKAMB – United Kingdom Association for Milk Banking, which lists accredited banks across the UK.

Did you find this blog helpful?

Please like, comment, and subscribe so more families can feel supported and informed on their parenting journey.

And if you’re a NICU parent, a donor, or just someone with a big heart – thank you for being here.

References:

1. United Kingdom Association for Milk Banking (UKAMB) – www.ukamb.org

2. NHS Guidelines on Donor Milk – www.nhs.uk

3. Human Milk Foundation – www.humanmilkfoundation.org

4. NICE Guidance on Donor Breast Milk for Preterm Infants

5. Fildes, Valerie (1988). Wet Nursing: A History from Antiquity to the Present

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