I didn’t expect to become a mum when I did. We found out I was pregnant the day before we got the keys to our first house, and everything felt like it happened all at once. It should have been a happy, exciting time, but very quickly it became overwhelming.

When my daughter was born, I had post-natal depression, and my anxiety went through the roof. I barely slept. I was constantly on edge, convinced something awful would happen if I let her out of my sight. I felt like I had to be on high alert every second of the day.

At the same time, I was trying to cope with a chronic spinal condition that leaves me in constant pain and extreme fatigue.

Simple things that other parents might take for granted, like getting out of the house, felt impossible. I physically couldn’t lift her car seat to the car, and even short distances can feel unmanageable. Being told to “just take her out for a walk” only made me feel more isolated, because I couldn’t do that. It felt like I was failing before I’d even started.

It felt like the world was moving around me, and I was stuck watching from the sidelines. During the weekdays, you realise how alone you are; everyone else is at work, and you’re just trying to get through the day.

Parenthood can feel isolating in itself, but living with a disability adds another layer. I was dealing with ongoing feelings of inadequacy as a parent, guilt, and a sense of grief and loss for my previous, more able life, alongside a deep sense of isolation, particularly as a disabled parent at home during the day. There are moments when it feels like a very lonely place.

Even though we had family nearby, the days could feel incredibly lonely. During the week, when everyone else was at work, I was at home trying to get through each hour, exhausted and overwhelmed. Being a parent can feel isolating anyway, but being a disabled parent added another layer of loneliness. I started to feel cut off from the world, like I was doing everything on my own, and not doing any of it well.

When a friend suggested Home-Start, I was nervous. I was already so anxious that the idea of letting someone new into my home felt overwhelming. But from the moment I met the coordinator, something shifted. I felt understood. There was no judgment, no pressure, just someone who listened.

Our volunteer has made an incredible difference to our lives. Having her there means I can breathe. Sometimes, it’s as simple as being able to sit down for ten minutes, or go and wash up, or have a moment to myself. Other times, it’s knowing that my daughter can get out for fresh air and new experiences, even when I can’t manage it. That has been huge for me, because I worried so much about her missing out because of my disability.

What matters most is how supported I feel. There’s no judgment, just reassurance that I’m not doing things wrong, just differently. That acceptance has helped rebuild my confidence as a parent. For the first time, I felt like I wasn’t alone in it all.

Through Home-Start, I’ve also connected with other families via a group, which has helped ease that sense of isolation. Being able to sit with another parent and realise you’re not the only one struggling makes such a difference.

Life is still hard. Managing disability, pain, fatigue and parenting will always be a challenge. But Home-Start has made it easier. If you could see me, my face lights up, and I have the biggest smile when I speak about Home-Start. They have given me so much support, space to cope, and the reassurance that I’m not alone, even now. I’m so thankful.