"When my son Casper was born in August 2022 it was a relief. The scans had been worrying during pregnancy, and I nearly died during childbirth, but he arrived safely.

I had HELLP syndrome (a serious complication of pregnancy characterised by the destruction of red blood cells). I lost two litres of blood, and experienced what clinicians call an “impending sense of doom”, a phrase that doesn’t begin to capture how terrifying it felt. Then, almost immediately, I was expected to recover, bond, and “crack on” as a new mum.

Casper couldn’t feed properly from the start. I knew something wasn’t right. But again and again, I was told I was “an anxious new mum”, that I needed to try harder, that it was “just reflux”. I’m a healthcare professional, and I trusted my instincts, but exhaustion and trauma slowly stripped away my confidence and ability to cope.

Feeding him took over our entire lives. When I say this, I mean it. Every three hours, for over an hour at a time. No sleep. No rest. No answers.

Eventually, Casper was admitted to the hospital. He wasn’t developing as he should. He needed a nasogastric tube and, later, a gastrostomy. Still, no one would join the dots. I was terrified my baby was dying, and at the same time, I felt invisible. There was no space to process the trauma of the birth, or the relentless fear of what was going on with my child.

My mental health collapsed. Anxiety became constant, physical and overwhelming. I got to the point where I couldn’t even feel hot water on my skin. I was referred to perinatal mental health services, then told I wouldn’t be seen. It was a rollercoaster. Mental health assessments happened over the phone, which baffled me because how can you tell how a person is over the phone? I was getting angry with everyone and everything and felt completely lost. At times, I didn’t know if I could keep going, I had thoughts of ‘everyone would be better off without me there’. My life was upside down, and family relationships were negatively impacted.

When Home-Start was first mentioned, I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t feel “deserving”. I told myself other families needed it more. And if I’m honest, in my fight to get my son some help, I was exhausted by well-meaning kindness from others who tried to help me. I needed action, not sympathy.

But things kept getting worse, my family encouraged me to reach out and to accept help. When I did, it quickly became clear how critical, and right, that decision was.

Home-Start didn’t rush me. They listened, I mean really listened. They matched me carefully with a home visiting volunteer, Alison.

When Alison arrived, Casper was just over a year old and had recently had his gastrostomy surgery. Within minutes, she said something no one else had ever said to me, “I understand.”

Alison wasn’t there as a doctor, but it turned out that she was a retired paediatric consultant. For the first time, I felt believed. Not dismissed. Not labelled as an “anxious first-time mum”. Seen as a parent of a child who was genuinely struggling. Home-Start had heard me. It felt like a huge breakthrough.

With Alison beside me, I stopped feeling “crazy”. She supported me to advocate for Casper, helped me navigate appointments, and, with our permission, wrote to his consultant to explain what she was seeing. She reminded me that knowledge is power, especially when you’re exhausted, traumatised, and fighting a system that I felt didn’t always listen.

Eventually, she said something that changed everything: “You need a diagnosis.” Not for labels. But so I could protect my son and get the right things in place for him.

With Alison’s support, we found a private geneticist. Within six weeks, Casper was diagnosed with Costello syndrome, an incredibly rare genetic condition. His specific variant is so rare that he is thought to be one of around 30 people in the world with it.

The diagnosis was terrifying, but also liberating. I finally knew I wasn’t wrong and hadn’t imagined it. And now, Casper could finally get the right care.

Today, he is three years old. He is funny, determined, loving, and full of life. He talks, plays, goes to preschool, and is learning to eat and drink. He has challenges, mobility delays, feeding needs, and hypermobility, but he is thriving with the right support in place. And I am still here.

Home-Start didn’t just support my child, it saved my family. It helped rebuild trust, reduced the anger and fear that were pulling us apart. It gave me the strength to keep going when I didn’t think I could. We later got married, and Casper walked down the aisle with us! And instead of wedding gifts, we raised money for Home-Start, because we know what that support truly means.

Home-Start showed me what personalised, compassionate support really looks like. Not box-ticking. Not platitudes. But standing beside a family, believing them, and helping them find their way forward.

Someone believed me when I couldn’t believe myself, and that made all the difference."