The bad and your parenting journey

Have You Ever Had Surgery? Here’s My Journey.

The short answer? Yes.

The long answer? I’ve had lots.

When people ask me if I’ve ever had surgery, I sometimes laugh – not because it’s funny, but because it’s such a big question for someone like me. Being born prematurely meant that surgery wasn’t just a one-off event – it became part of my story from the very beginning.

One of my first surgeries happened when I was so tiny I don’t even remember it. I had a feeding tube placed directly into my belly. I’ve always hated my belly button – technically, it’s an innie, but the scar beside it makes it look like an outie on one side. It might seem like a small thing, but it’s stuck with me.

At just a month old, I needed a blood transfusion – and to do it, they had to shave half of my head. It’s strange looking back at baby photos where my hair is missing in patches. It was life-saving, but it’s another mark that tells the story of how fragile those early weeks really were.

As a child, I had repeated ear infections and needed several sets of grommets in both ears. At one point, a grommet got stuck in my eardrum and the skin started to grow around it. That meant yet another operation. After that, things didn’t improve – it left a hole in my eardrum and infections became a regular part of life.

When I was 18, I was put on the waiting list for something I didn’t even know was possible: having a new eardrum built. The surgery – called a tympanoplasty – involved shaving part of my head again. Recovery took months. I wasn’t allowed to lift anything for three months afterwards, and I remember just waiting to feel “normal” again. When the packing was finally removed from my ear, I could hear better than I had in years. It was a huge relief not to worry about getting my ear wet anymore.

But while I was dealing with the medical side, there was still the social stuff to navigate. I’ll never forget being at school while my hair was growing back and a “friend” turned to me and said, “How come sideburns on boys are bad, but on girls they’re even worse?” That stuck. It’s funny how some comments from childhood stay with you longer than the pain from surgery.

In 2011, I started experiencing symptoms of what I now know was POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). At the time, it was misdiagnosed as migraine-associated vertigo, and I noticed it was worse when I wore my hearing aids. Eventually, the decision was made to fit me with a cochlear bone-anchored hearing aid (BAHA) on the left side – another operation, but one that made a difference.

And then in 2019, my life changed again. I became seriously unwell with sepsis. I was just 15 minutes from not surviving. It’s hard to explain the trauma of that. I had life-saving surgery and drains placed in my neck. The days that followed were a blur, but I’ll never forget the sheer relief of waking up and knowing I was still here.

You’d think that with all this experience, surgery would become second nature – but oh my goodness, they still scare me. Every single one. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been in a hospital gown, how well I know the routine – it always feels daunting. The nerves never quite go away.

But the most important surgeries I’ve ever had weren’t for me – they were for my daughter, Amelia.

At 23 weeks pregnant, Amelia needed a blood transfusion while still inside me. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I had to stay completely still and even breathe shallowly, because anything more could have risked her life. That experience haunts me to this day. And when the time came for her to be born, I had a C-section to give her the best chance possible. I just wish I could’ve had that golden hour with her – the skin-to-skin moment you dream of. But she had to be whisked away to intensive care before I even got to hold her.

All surgeries are stressful. But some stay with you forever.

Surgery has never been something I’ve feared in a logical way – it’s something I’ve had to face out of necessity. Each scar, each shaved patch of hair, each recovery period tells part of a story that I’m still living. And I’ve learned that recovery isn’t just about wounds healing – it’s also about the emotional bruises, the fear, and the way it all lingers.

If you or your child have been through surgeries, I want you to know you’re not alone. It’s OK to feel scared, it’s OK to carry the weight of those experiences, and it’s OK to take your time healing. You’re doing better than you think.

Let’s keep the conversation going

Have you or your child had surgery that left more than just physical scars? I’d love to hear your story – feel free to share in the comments or message me directly.

💜 If this post resonated with you, please like, comment, and subscribe to The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey. Your support helps us keep sharing these real-life stories that matter.

surgery story blog, born premature UK, tympanoplasty recovery, cochlear baha implant, grommets complications, hearing loss and surgery, neurodivergent chronic illness, POTS syndrome UK, surviving sepsis story, c-section NICU baby, intrauterine blood transfusion, parenting with medical trauma, premature baby story

References:

NHS: Tympanoplasty and Ear Surgery – https://www.nhs.uk The UK Sepsis Trust – https://sepsistrust.org POTS UK – https://www.potsuk.org Tommy’s UK – Blood transfusions during pregnancy – https://www.tommys.org

Have you ever had surgery? What for?

The Daily Habits That Keep Me Grounded – Even with a Suspected Autistic Toddler

When you’re parenting a child who is possibly autistic, one of the biggest pieces of advice you’re given is stick to a routine. But what they don’t always tell you is how tricky that is when you have a toddler—autistic or not. Toddlers can be delightfully unpredictable, strong-willed, and let’s be honest—chaotic. So while I try to create rhythms that feel safe and familiar for us both, I’ve had to learn that flexibility is just as important.

That said, there are a few daily habits that help anchor our days. They don’t just help my daughter Amelia feel safe—they help me feel steady too.

1. Gratitude First Thing

The very first thing I do every morning is say what I’m grateful for. And it’s not fancy or long-winded—it’s often as simple as:

“I’m grateful for a roof over our heads, food on the table, and the warmth in this home.”

I do this while I’m making Amelia’s breakfast and putting the kettle on (because let’s be real, I need two cups of tea just to start the day). Gratitude doesn’t erase the hard bits—but it softens them. It reminds me that there is still good in the everyday.

2. Tea, Tea, and More Tea

I can’t lie—tea is basically a coping strategy in a mug. I always make two cups for myself: one to sip while Amelia eats (or throws) her breakfast, and the other for when the first one inevitably goes cold because she’s climbed onto the table and poured yoghurt on the imaginary cat (again). We can’t have cats because I’m allergic to them which is really upsetting because I love any fur baby.

3. Essential Chores First

After breakfast, before the day starts properly, I always try to get the bare minimum of housework done. That means:

Wiping down surfaces Putting a load in the washing machine Clearing any dishes left from the night before

It’s not about being super clean or picture-perfect—it’s about creating an environment where I feel more in control. And when you’re juggling sensory meltdowns, requests for CBeebies, and toddler gymnastics, you need every little bit of calm you can get.

4. Trying for Routine – But Accepting Reality

We have structure—sort of. Meals are at roughly the same times. Nap or quiet time is encouraged after lunch. We have the same “get dressed” and “brush teeth” order every morning. But some days, Amelia doesn’t want to wear trousers. Or socks. Or anything at all.

Some days we do everything “right” and still end up with a meltdown over the colour of a spoon.

So I’ve learned that instead of being rigid, we focus on rhythm. Predictable moments. Familiar language. Gentle transitions. Routines are helpful—but not when they make everyone more stressed. If something doesn’t work today, we try again tomorrow.

Why These Habits Matter

If you’re a parent, especially one who is neurodivergent or parenting a neurodivergent child, daily habits aren’t just about ticking boxes. They’re a survival tool. They’re how we carve out tiny pockets of peace inside the beautiful chaos.

They’re also how I model regulation, consistency, and calm for my daughter—even when I don’t feel calm myself.

Your Turn:

What small habits help your family feel grounded each day? Do you have a non-negotiable cup of tea moment too?

👇 Let me know in the comments. And if this blog post resonated, please like and subscribe to follow more of The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey—because no parent should feel alone in the hard bits.

References:

National Autistic Society. (n.d.). The importance of routines for autistic children Mental Health Foundation. (n.d.). Benefits of Gratitude Practice

What are your daily habits?

Mum Guilt as a Disabled Parent: When Looking After Yourself Feels Like Letting Them Down

There’s something that no one quite prepares you for when you become a mum—the weight of guilt that creeps in, especially on the days when you’re not at your best.

For me, that guilt shows up in so many ways. It’s not just about screen time or what meals look like that day. It runs deeper. It’s the kind of guilt that whispers, “You should be doing more.” And as a disabled mum, that whisper sometimes turns into a roar.

When Self-Care Feels Like Selfishness

There are days when my pain levels are high. Days where my joints feel like they’ve aged decades overnight or where fatigue sits heavy on my chest before I’ve even had a sip of tea. On those days, taking care of myself isn’t a luxury—it’s a survival strategy. But try explaining that to a toddler who just wants to be held or play on the floor or have mummy come running.

It’s heartbreaking to say, “Not right now, sweetheart.”

Even worse when I try to push through and end up in more pain than I started with.

Because the truth is, you can love your child more than life itself and still not be able to give them everything they want or need in that moment. That doesn’t make you a bad mum. It makes you human.

When Chronic Pain Is “Normal” – and Then It’s Not

I live with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so chronic pain is just… part of my daily life. It’s like a constant background noise I’ve learned to live with. But when new pain hits—especially in places that don’t usually hurt—it can feel completely overwhelming.

And if you’re neurodivergent like I am, it’s not just the physical pain that’s hard. It’s the sensory overload, the emotional whiplash, the way your whole body goes into fight-or-flight. Your nervous system feels like it’s buzzing, but not in a good way.

What Made Today So Much Harder

It didn’t help that this morning started at 4am.

Amelia woke up crying, and when I went to check on her, I found her absolutely soaking. Her nappy had leaked through everything—pyjamas, sleep sheet, the works. What’s normally a 15-minute settle took 45 minutes. I finally got back into bed at 4:45, thinking I might get an hour of sleep.

But because Ryan does a mental health sports group on Friday mornings, his alarm went off at 5am. At one point, he even turned the light on to find something. He’s nearly blind without his glasses or contact lenses, so I get it—but still, it was just too much.

And then, of course, Amelia was up again at 6am.

But the worst part? When I went to change her nappy at 4am, I slipped. I twisted my ankle and whacked my shoulder on the bed rail. So on top of everything else today, I’ve been in even more pain than usual. Pain I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t fallen. And it’s that extra pain that tipped me over the edge. It made me feel like the worst mum in the world because I couldn’t be as present, patient, or physically available to Amelia as I wanted to be.

I Know I’m a Good Mum… But It Doesn’t Always Feel That Way

I know, deep down, that being a good mum doesn’t mean being able to do everything all the time. But in the moment, when you can’t meet their needs—or even their wants—it feels like failure.

Because society tells us mums should be everything. That our needs come last. And when you’re disabled, chronically ill or neurodivergent, you’re already operating with a completely different baseline. It can feel like you’re playing a game where everyone else starts at 100%, and you’re stuck at 40% just trying to keep up.

What I’m Still Learning

Here’s the truth I keep coming back to: looking after myself IS looking after Amelia.

If I don’t rest when I need to, if I push through too much, I burn out. I break down. I can’t give her the love and support she deserves—not just today but in the days to come. Saying “Mummy needs a rest” isn’t a weakness. It’s a message that our needs matter too.

And I want her to grow up knowing that.

That it’s okay to have limits. That it’s okay to listen to your body. That love doesn’t disappear just because mummy isn’t on the floor building towers or scooping her up on demand.

Because love isn’t just shown in cuddles and energy—it’s shown in consistency, safety, warmth, and presence, even if that presence is sitting with a heat pack and offering a lap instead of arms.

To the Mum Crying in the Bathroom at 4am…

If you’ve had a morning like mine, or a week like this one, please know: you are not alone.

This isn’t you failing. This is you surviving. This is you adapting. This is you doing the best you can with a body and mind that asks more of you than it does of others.

You are not broken. You are doing brilliantly, even if it doesn’t feel like it today.

Call to Action

If this blog resonated with you, please like, share, or comment below. Tell me your story. Let’s remind each other that we are enough—even on the hard days.

And if you’d like more real and relatable stories about parenting while disabled, neurodivergent or simply human, subscribe to the blog so you never miss a post. You matter. Your story matters. And you’re not in this alone.

Creating a Better World for Our Children: Simple Steps to Be More Sustainable

(This post contains an ad for Gousto via a referral link)

When I became a parent, I suddenly saw the world differently. It wasn’t just about my choices anymore—it was about the kind of planet I was leaving behind for my daughter. That thought still stops me in my tracks.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when we talk about climate change or sustainability, especially when we’re juggling parenting, work, therapy appointments, and the general chaos of daily life. But the truth is, even the smallest actions—done consistently—can build a better future for our kids.

You don’t have to live off-grid or grow all your own food to make a difference (although hats off if you do!). This blog is about making sustainability feel doable—especially if you’re navigating family life with a neurodivergent child or you’re neurodivergent yourself. We already have enough on our plates, right?

So let’s make sustainability feel more like an invitation than a chore.

Why Sustainability Matters for Families

When we talk about sustainability, we’re really talking about caring. Caring about the future, about fairness, and about making the world a bit kinder and more liveable. And what better example can we set for our children than showing them how to look after the planet and each other?

Children are little sponges. They watch what we do. They repeat what we say. And when they see us recycling, refusing plastic bags, reusing containers, and talking about where our food comes from—they learn that small actions matter.

And let’s be honest: in a world where everything moves so fast, these small moments of conscious living can also ground us as parents.

11 Practical Ways to Be More Sustainable (Even If You’re Sleep-Deprived)

Here are some of the small, manageable things we’ve done as a family. Hopefully they’ll give you some ideas too:

1. Use Meal Subscription Boxes Wisely

Ad – Contains a referral link

Companies like Gousto, HelloFresh, or Mindful Chef (some of which offer gluten-free and allergy-friendly options!) help reduce food waste by providing the exact ingredients you need. This was a game changer for us when we were in the thick of hospital appointments and had no brain space left for meal planning. Bonus: you can skip weeks whenever life gets too much.

If you’re curious to try it, here’s a referral link for Gousto:

👉 https://gousto.co.uk/raf?promo_code=RYAN43977092&utm_source=androidapp

You’ll get money off your first boxes, and we get a little thank you too. Win-win!

Tip: Reuse the boxes for arts and crafts or donate packaging to local schools or nurseries.

2. Plan Leftovers Like a Pro

Try a weekly “leftovers night” or turn roast dinner extras into a soup or pie. It’s a fun way to challenge your creativity—and it teaches kids that nothing goes to waste.

Low energy tip: Batch-cook and freeze portions in silicone muffin trays. Instant toddler-sized meals!

3. Swap the Tumble Dryer for a Clothes Airer

I get it—using the tumble dryer feels essential when you’re washing baby grows every other hour. But even cutting back a bit can reduce your energy bills and your carbon footprint.

We’ve found a happy medium by using a heated airer with a cover in the winter and hanging clothes outside in spring and summer when the weather plays ball.

4. Choose Reusables (When You Can)

Reusable baby wipes have been a lifesaver for us. We use Cheeky Wipes and haven’t looked back. Swap cling film for beeswax wraps or silicone lids. If you’re expressing milk or using formula, look into bottles that are recyclable or have fewer wasteful parts.

Even one swap makes a difference—and the cost savings add up over time.

5. Make Recycling a Family Activity

Kids love being involved. Let them help sort recycling or decorate your bins with stickers. If your child is neurodivergent and prefers structure, a visual chart or checklist can help make it part of the routine.

6. Donate or Swap Unused Clothes and Toys

Children grow so quickly. If you’ve got bags of clothes that no longer fit, pass them on to charity shops, baby banks, or local families.

For the past two years, we’ve been able to go to a local swap shop. It’s been such a help—Amelia would outgrow things, and we could pick up the next size without spending a penny. Sadly, I won’t be able to go anymore as I’ll be working that day and time, but I’m so grateful for the support it gave us.

We also use Vinted a lot. It’s brilliant for buying and selling second-hand clothes, shoes, and toys. You can often find like-new outfits for just a few pounds—and it’s so much less wasteful than buying new.

Tip for the neurodivergent brain: Keep a “to donate” bag by the door to reduce decision fatigue and avoid things piling up.

7. Buy Second-Hand or Join a Toy Library

Some of Amelia’s favourite toys have come from charity shops and Facebook Marketplace. Kids really don’t care if it’s brand new—they care if it’s fun.

Even better, our local library has a toy library, where you can borrow toys for a few weeks. It’s completely free, and it’s ideal if your child goes through sensory or developmental phases quickly. It’s saved us money and reduced clutter at the same time.

8. Grow Something—Even Just a Herb

Whether it’s a pot of basil on the windowsill or strawberries in the garden, growing something with your child is grounding. It teaches patience, responsibility, and connection to nature.

Even if you’re not green-fingered, start small. Watering a single plant each day can become a lovely mindful moment.

9. Be a Conscious Consumer

Before buying something new, ask yourself:

Do I need this? Can I borrow or find it second-hand? Will it last?

We’ve started trying to buy things that serve more than one purpose. (Our foldable toddler tower that becomes a desk has been one of the best buys ever.)

10. Talk About It Openly

Sustainability doesn’t have to be a serious lecture. You can say things like:

“We’re reusing this because it’s good for the planet!” “Let’s count how many things we can recycle today.”

Kids love feeling involved—and even if they don’t always understand the why, they remember the habits.

11. Recycle Smarter with Boots Recycle

Did you know Boots has a recycling scheme? It’s called Boots Scan2Recycle, and it’s so handy—especially when you have a baby and go through bottles and packaging constantly.

You just scan your empty product through the app, take it into a participating Boots store, and scan your Advantage Card. You’ll earn points for recycling, which you can then spend on essentials (which, let’s be honest, we always need more of when there’s a little one in the house!).

It’s good for the planet—and even better for your Advantage Card balance.

A Final Thought

I’m not perfect. Some days I forget to recycle. Some weeks we eat more packaged food than I’d like. But perfection isn’t the point.

The point is trying. Noticing. Caring. Taking small steps where we can.

If everyone makes a few sustainable choices that fit their lives, it adds up to something powerful. And that’s the kind of legacy I want to leave my daughter—not just a world that still turns, but one where kindness, care, and responsibility are second nature.

Here’s to raising kind, eco-conscious little humans—one reused yoghurt pot at a time.

Did this blog help you feel a little more hopeful or inspired? Then please like, share, or subscribe so you never miss a post. Let’s grow this community together. 💚

References

WRAP: Waste & Resources Action Programme Recyclenow.com – UK recycling locator Cheeky Wipes – Reusable family products Vinted UK – Buy/sell second-hand Boots Recycle Toy Libraries UK NHS – Sustainable diet guide

Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?

The Most Memorable Meal I’ve Ever Had — Our Wedding Day at Field Place

When someone asks, “What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?” my mind doesn’t go to an exotic holiday or a swanky restaurant.

Instead, I think about the most memorable and safest meal I’ve ever eaten — and that was our wedding day.

We got married at Field Place in Worthing, and I still feel so lucky that we chose it. The venue itself was stunning — full of history, character, and beautiful surroundings — but more than anything, it was the way they cared that made all the difference.

As someone with coeliac disease, I know how difficult it can be to eat safely at events. Add to that guests with multiple allergies — including nuts, lemon, kiwi and bell pepper — and it would have been easy for people to brush it off or get overwhelmed. But not Field Place.

The caterers were phenomenal. They prepared everything in a separate kitchen to avoid cross-contamination, and we made the decision that the entire wedding menu would be 100% gluten-free and free from the top allergens affecting our guests. It was a big ask — but they absolutely rose to the occasion.

And let me tell you — it was incredible.

Not just because it was safe, but because it was absolutely delicious.

The presentation was superb — the kind of meal where each plate looked like something out of a Michelin-star restaurant. Elegant, thoughtful, and so beautifully done. It didn’t feel like we were making compromises; it felt like we were being celebrated.

To top it all off, the atmosphere was relaxed, and for once, I didn’t feel like I had to be on high alert. I could simply be.

That said… in the week leading up to the wedding and on the morning of the day itself, I was so nervous I could hardly eat. My stomach felt like it had completely shrunk from the anxiety and excitement.

But when the food arrived — when I sat down and allowed myself to really enjoy the moment — something shifted.

We had a three-course meal, and I was so determined to savour every bite that I ended up being the last person at the table to finish my main. My dad leaned over and said, “Are you nearly done? I think everyone’s waiting for dessert.”

I looked at him and said, “No — this is amazing, and I’m eating every bite.”

My husband just smiled. He knew exactly what that meant for me — that I felt safe enough to enjoy the meal, to not rush through it, to simply be present. He was proud, and honestly, I was proud of myself too.

It was a small but powerful moment. Because I wasn’t just eating food — I was reclaiming something. I was allowing myself to be cared for in a way that didn’t require compromise or second-guessing.

And I think, as a neurodivergent parent who’s always considering others — our daughter, our family, our friends — it’s rare to feel so looked after. That kind of inclusive love doesn’t happen by accident. It’s intentional. And it meant everything.

Over to You

What’s your most memorable meal? Was it the food? The feeling? The company?

I’d love to hear your story — share it in the comments. And if this blog resonated with you, please give it a like, and subscribe for more honest reflections on parenting, prematurity, neurodiversity, and finding joy in unexpected places.

Let’s keep lifting each other up — one safe, beautiful memory at a time.

References

Field Place Manor House & Barns, Worthing Coeliac UK – www.coeliac.org.uk Allergy UK – www.allergyuk.org Ellie Middleton, Unmasked: The Guide to Neurodivergent Life

What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?

If I Were Forced to Wear a Uniform Every Day – What Would It Be?

From the age of 18 right up until my last “proper” job, I’ve worn a uniform. Every single day. I didn’t have to think too much — just get dressed and get on with it. It sounds simple, and in many ways it was. But it also meant that for years, I had no idea what actually suited me.

One of my very first uniforms was the iconic Asda green. My dad joked that it looked like mould and told me it would grow on me. Spoiler: it didn’t. But I wore it anyway because that’s what the job needed. Since then, I’ve worn all sorts — tunic tops and trousers in beauty therapy, tunic dresses in care and podiatry. If the job came with a set uniform, I wore it without question.

The Safety and the Struggle of Uniforms

There are definite benefits to having a uniform. You don’t have to think about what to wear each morning. There’s no pressure to impress anyone or stress about being underdressed. It’s easy, especially when life is busy.

But for me, the downside was bigger than I realised.

Because I never had to think about what I wore, I never really worked out what looked good on me. I didn’t learn what colours made me feel confident, or what fabrics felt best. If someone told me something looked good, I’d wear it — even if I didn’t actually like it. I didn’t want to rock the boat or let anyone down.

It wasn’t just about clothes. It was about wanting to fit in.

A New Job — With No Uniform

Next month I’m starting a new position, and for the first time ever, there’s no uniform. No one telling me what to wear. No one else setting the rules. And honestly? I’m bricking it.

As a mum, my day-to-day uniform is basically leggings and a T-shirt — comfortable, easy, and toddler-proof. But for this new job, I’ve had to go out and buy actual office clothes. And let me tell you, I found it overwhelming. Not just because of the cost or the time, but because I had no idea what I was looking for. I’ve never had the space to explore what “my style” really is.

When you’ve spent your life trying to keep things simple, or trying to blend in, it’s hard to know what feels like you.

Since Becoming a Mum, Comfort Has Come First

Since Amelia was born, comfort has become the number one priority. There hasn’t really been time to think about anything else. And because I didn’t know what suited me to begin with, I just defaulted to whatever felt easiest and most familiar.

But something’s shifted recently. I’ve started thinking more about how I want to feel in my clothes — not just how practical they are. What feels good? What feels like me? I’m still figuring it out, but that in itself feels like a huge step.

So, If I Had to Pick a Uniform Now…

If someone told me I had to wear the same thing every day now — but I got to choose it — I think I’d go for something relaxed, soft and flexible. High-waisted trousers or comfy jeans, a loose blouse or soft cotton top, and a cardigan I can wrap myself in on the harder days. Something that feels put together without being stiff. Something that says, “I’ve got this,” even when I’m not totally sure I do.

It wouldn’t be Asda green. It wouldn’t be a tunic. And it definitely wouldn’t be picked by someone else.

It would be mine.

If you’ve ever looked in your wardrobe and felt a bit lost, or if you’ve always dressed for other people instead of yourself, you’re not alone. Whether you’re a parent, neurodivergent, or just someone who’s always tried to fit in — figuring out what feels right for you is a journey.

👚 So tell me: if you had to wear the same outfit every day, what would your dream uniform be? Drop it in the comments. Let’s normalise comfort, confidence, and clothing that feels like you.

💬 If this blog made you smile, nod, or feel seen, please give it a like, share with a friend, and hit subscribe so you never miss a post.

References:

Personal reflections from working across beauty, care and podiatry Real-life experiences of parenting and post-baby identity The quiet power of clothes and how they shape how we see ourselves

If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?

✨ Visiting a Playschool for My Neurodivergent Toddler: What I Asked the SENCO

(Updated to include questions for all parents)

Today felt like a big day for us. I visited a potential playschool for Amelia to attend in September – just three days a week to begin with, but it’s still a huge milestone. For any parent, choosing the right setting can be nerve-wracking. But as a parent of a possibly neurodivergent child, those questions and concerns can feel magnified. and actually although I say potential cause I wrote it before going it is definitely the place that we are wanting to send her. For one it was huge the staff were lovely. Amelia was able to play when I chatted to the manager for about half an hour hour and she was so kind and supportive. If we get in, I know that I will be so lucky and so will Amelia.

I wanted to be prepared – not just for myself, but for Amelia, who sees and experiences the world in her beautifully unique way. So I made a list of questions, especially for the SENCO (Special Educational Needs Coordinator), to help guide the conversation. If you’re in a similar place, here are the things I asked – and I hope they help you too.

💡 First of All, What’s the Difference Between Neurotypical and Neurodivergent?

Neurotypical children process the world in ways that are considered typical or expected by society—social communication, emotional regulation, sensory responses, and behaviour tend to follow standard developmental milestones.

Neurodivergent children, on the other hand, have differences in how they experience and interact with the world. This can include autism, ADHD, sensory processing differences, dyslexia, and other forms of neurodivergence. These children might need more flexibility, predictability, or tailored support to thrive.

Neither way is better—just different. And those differences matter when choosing a setting that truly sees and supports your child.

🧠 What I Asked the SENCO (for Possibly Neurodivergent Needs)

[This section remains unchanged from earlier – covering questions on SEN support, sensory regulation, emotional safety, and working together.]

🧩 What Would I Ask if I Thought My Child Was Neurotypical?

Even if you don’t have concerns about neurodivergence, it’s still important to understand how a nursery or playgroup works. Here are some general questions many parents ask when exploring a setting for their child:

🏫 General Environment & Approach

What does a typical day look like for the children? How do you support children through separation anxiety or settling in? How do you encourage social skills and friendships? What kind of learning-through-play activities do you provide?

🧼 Health, Safety, and Wellbeing

What’s your child-to-adult ratio? How do you manage toileting or nappy changing? How are accidents or incidents communicated to parents? What’s your approach to discipline or managing tricky behaviour?

🍎 Food and Routine

Do you provide snacks or meals – and how do you accommodate allergies? How do you manage nap times and tiredness in toddlers? Are children encouraged to eat together to support social mealtimes?

📣 Communication with Parents

How will I be kept informed of my child’s progress? Do you use an app or regular updates? Are there parent evenings or chances to discuss development?

⚖️ So What’s the Real Difference?

It comes down to this: neurotypical questions often focus on structure and consistency, while neurodivergent-focused questions dig deeper into emotional safety, flexibility, and individual needs.

For example:

A neurotypical parent might ask “Do you have a set routine?” A neurodivergent parent might ask “How flexible is your routine if my child struggles with transitions?”

Or:

“How do you support friendships?” vs. “What support do you give to children who find social interaction overwhelming?”

Both types of questions are valid and necessary. It’s just about tuning in to what your child needs and what setting can bring out their best self.

💬 Final Thoughts

Whether your child is neurotypical, neurodivergent, or you’re still figuring that out—it’s okay to ask questions. It’s okay to advocate. And it’s more than okay to be the parent who wants to make sure their child is seen, supported, and understood.

Today reminded me that we can ask for what we need and still be open to learning more about what will help our children thrive.

📌 Over to You

Have you visited a nursery or playgroup recently? What did you ask—and what would you add to this list?

💜 I’d love to know in the comments.

👉 If you found this post helpful, please like, share, and subscribe so more families feel equipped on their parenting journey.

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Daily Blog: Am I Spiritual? A NICU Mother’s Reflection

When people ask if I’m spiritual, I usually take a deep breath. Because my answer isn’t simple. I didn’t grow up in a strictly religious household, but faith was always present in the background.

As a child, I went to church every Sunday. It was just part of life. I also went to a Roman Catholic primary school, where stories of faith, love, and hope were part of our daily rhythm. Even then, I felt connected to something bigger than myself. Not in a loud or showy way—but in the quiet moments, when everything else faded, that sense of “something more” was there.

And I think that stayed with me.

When I was 30 weeks pregnant with Amelia and having what we knew might be the last scan before she arrived, I asked for a blessing to be arranged for when she was born. I needed it. I needed her to have that moment. To be held in something sacred, just in case.

You see, I was baptised just 10 minutes after I was born because they weren’t sure I’d survive. That moment has always felt incredibly significant to me—like I was claimed and seen and loved from the very start.

But my twin brother, Nicholas, wasn’t baptised. And that’s something that’s quietly stuck with me throughout my life. I know rituals don’t define love, and he was deeply loved. But something about not having that moment for him—a moment of recognition, a gesture of belonging—has always left a mark. Maybe that’s why I needed Amelia to have that blessing. So no matter what happened, she would have that moment. She would belong.

It’s not really about religion for me. It’s about connection. To love, to life, to the moments we can’t explain but feel deeply in our bones.

So yes, I suppose I am spiritual. Quietly. Personally. Deeply.

And maybe you are too—even if you’ve never quite had the words for it.

If this blog speaks to you, please like, subscribe, or share it. Your story matters too. And you’re never alone.

References

Personal lived experience (Laura Johnstone) NHS Chaplaincy and Neonatal Pastoral Care: https://www.england.nhs.uk/pastoral-and-spiritual-care/ Sands UK – Supporting Bereaved Parents: https://www.sands.org.uk

How important is spirituality in your life?

Hearing Tests, People Pleasing, and the Power of Unmasking

Today, I’m on my way to the hospital for what feels like my first proper hearing test. Not because I haven’t done it before — I’ve had so many hearing tests over the years that I’ve lost count. But this is the first time I’ll be walking into that soundproof booth without feeling like I need to perform or please anyone.

I’ve had hearing loss all my life, a result of being born prematurely at just 28 weeks and five days. I started wearing hearing aids from the age of nine, and I’ve been through various types and setups ever since.

For a long time, I had hearing aids in both ears. But when I was later fitted with a bone-anchored cochlear hearing aid on my left side, the medical team decided not to replace the right one at the time. I was regularly passing out, and they felt that another aid — or surgery — might be too much for me. At that stage, they were still trying to work out what was causing it, and the working diagnosis was migraine-associated vertigo.

Fast forward to now: we’ve since discovered that it was actually POTS syndrome, and I’m finally on the right medication. I’m no longer passing out as often, and I feel much more stable — which is why I’m planning to ask today about getting a second hearing aid fitted for my right ear. I know I can cope with it now.

But this time, I’ll be honest.

In the past, I’ve walked into those tests and tried so hard to “get it right”. I’d push the headphones closer, clench my jaw to hear better, focus until I was exhausted. Not because I wanted to manipulate the results — but because I was people pleasing. I didn’t want to be seen as needy or awkward or difficult.

During the pandemic, I finally began to understand that I’m autistic and have ADHD. And suddenly, it all made sense — the masking, the exhaustion, the desire to make life easier for others, even if it made things harder for me.

Now that I’ve unmasked, I can see how much I was trying to pass in medical settings, too. I didn’t want to ask people to repeat themselves, even though I often miss entire words. I hear the sound, but not the meaning. It’s one of the many reasons I also plan to ask if they can test for Auditory Processing Disorder (APD) today.

This time, I’m not pretending.

I’m showing up as me — a woman who’s lived with hearing loss her whole life, who’s masked and people-pleased for far too long, and who’s finally advocating for her full needs.

💬 Call to Action

Have you ever masked in medical appointments or felt afraid to speak up about your needs? If so, you’re not alone. I’d love to hear from you — comment below, share your experience, and if this post resonates, please like and subscribe to follow more of my journey. Let’s keep breaking the silence together.

Why I Nodded at an NHS Motorbike – The Hidden Heroes Behind Donor Milk

This afternoon, I popped out to get some milk for Amelia. Nothing particularly special about that. It’s part of everyday life. But something powerful happened on the way home.

I spotted an NHS motorbike. Now, I know to most people, it just looks like another emergency services bike zipping around town – but I knew exactly what that bike was doing. That’s a blood bike. And what many people don’t realise is this: those bikes don’t just deliver blood – they also deliver donor breastmilk.

And in that moment, I nodded my head – not because I’m a biker, but out of deep respect. Respect for the volunteers, the drivers, the dispatchers – and the parents, like many of you reading this, who donate their expressed milk to save babies’ lives.

Why Donor Milk Matters

In Stage 3 Neonatal Intensive Care Units (NICUs), premature babies often can’t tolerate formula. Their guts are just not ready. In fact, introducing formula too soon can increase the risk of conditions like necrotising enterocolitis (NEC) – which can be fatal.

That’s where donor breastmilk comes in. It’s not just a “nice to have” – it’s literally a life-saving intervention.

And yet, so few people know it’s even an option.

Can You Donate Milk?

I was chatting to a few friends recently and not a single one of them knew that, if they were healthy and screened, they could donate their expressed milk.

I get it. When you’re deep in the blur of new parenthood, the last thing you’re thinking about is milk donation. But if you’re someone who is expressing regularly and has extra – you could be saving the life of a baby born far too soon.

The process is safe. There are checks. The milk is screened. It’s not just giving, it’s giving with love, care and support.

And to every single person who has donated milk – I am forever grateful. You helped save Amelia’s life.

Pumping for Preemies – A Call for Awareness

Seeing that motorbike today reminded me why I started the Pumping for Preemies campaign. Because awareness is still way too low. Because the milk banks are not overflowing – they’re often running short. And because too many people don’t know just how urgent the need is.

So if you’ve ever donated milk, thank you.

If you’ve ever considered it, look into it.

And if you didn’t know it was possible – now you do. Maybe you’ll tell a friend who can help.

That nod to the motorbike wasn’t just respect for the rider – it was for every parent who has pumped a bottle to help someone else’s baby live another day.

With love and hope,

Laura x

🍼 Want to get involved in the Pumping for Preemies campaign?

Follow the blog, share this post, and keep an eye out for upcoming ways to support families in NICU.