About Jen

I am a mum to a walking miracle child. I started openly sharing our IVF story in 2015 after the loss of our 6th pregnancy and found that our story resonated with so many others. Now, on this side of the infertility journey, I have decided to share my perspective of mum life as it is, like we did with our Waiting For A Miracle blog. Join me for the highs, the lows and everything in between, authentic and real.


Deflated. Defeated. Down.

It’s been a while. My radio silence is a reflection of how little to zero “me time” I get. I have all these stories and thoughts I’d love to get written down and share. But, I just don’t get time to stop. Or when I do it’s about mentally winding down and coming to my own baseline calm internally.

We were pretty excited to celebrate Poppy Trev’s 60th birthday yesterday. Excited to feel a little bit normal for once. Lunch at a beautiful place and to see friends who we haven’t seen in a while.

We don’t get out much because we have to go out for so many appointments for the kids. They get so tired and that’s all we can muster is the absolutely must do things.

Actually when we took Heath to the shop after an appointment last week I realised it’s the first time he’s been inside a grocery shop this year.

I don’t expect to have quality time with others when I have young kids.

But the meltdowns that happened during our lunch our for Poppy Trev from mister two was overwhelming for us all. But most importantly showed me that he wasn’t coping and he needed to leave. So we packed up and left.

Miss two bawled her eyes at leaving too which resulted in her wailing and screaming for about 45 minutes. She had also entered her next phase prior to this of being at her end – when she gets this adorable, yet slightly concerning laugh as she tries to antagonize and upset (eg hurt) those around her.

And I know we are doing what’s best for all of our children. I wouldn’t change my kids for the world. I love and appreciate their beautiful autistic qualities. I’m not looking for any sympathy because I adore my kids and there’s simply no room for that stuff here.

I am feeling defeated.

Just one lunch out.

In a country location.

Yet it was still too much.

As I sat in the car after packing the kids up and getting them into the car and calmed down, I struggled to hold back the tears.

I just wanted to be, dare I say it, normal, for two hours. Myself included. Probably talking more about me really.

Living outside of myself and masking, aka acting so incredibly well for 38 years. Yeah it’s exhausting. I have amazing qualities that I’m finally starting to realise, learn and accept in new light, to love and appreciate; however it’s still a struggle for me. Anything social is so exhausting anyway but now added to is 3 (quite possibly 4) autistic children with varying needs.

I wish for just one lunch I could feel normal.

(Note I’m not saying I want to change any of us; I just wish we could *feel* like we fit in with the rest of the world – inclusivity.)

And for my children to feel relaxed.

To participate like our neurotypical peers and families get to.

I feel bad that I let my children down. That mister two felt so overwhelmed that he had such a meltdown. That miss two felt so sad she wailed. But I’m not perfect and can’t be everything to everyone. I only have two hands and a half-working body.

Autism. It’s not something that can be switched on or off. It is who someone is. It is their identity. Because it is how they think. And how we think is who we are.

When people have said things in the past like, “oh wow what’s up with ____ today.” (I’ve heard this more times than I can count over the five years parenting number one and then the following three.) I just want to reply, “it’s not today but everyday. It’s every second of every waking and sleeping moment. It’s this struggle that anyone who is neurodivergent has on a daily basis to fit into a neurotypical world.” It’s all throughout the night too. The lack of sleep is so common in autistic individuals especially those coupled with ADHD too.

Before we went yesterday, I had already downloaded the menu, picked out what would most likely work for each person and whatever changes we’d need to make.

Does a neurotypical person do this? I’m not sure but this is usually the first thing I do when we are going anywhere is look ahead and see what could work and any contingency plans. Because this is so needed. I can’t take in the menu in a busy and crowded place while trying to protect my children.

The kids weren’t coping inside so I’d taken them outside. Then mister two ran off. Mister 5 tried his best to contain him. Eventually I admitted defeat and asked Scott to come help me. And when miser two ran off again and collided with others, that’s when I just knew things were going from bad to worse and it was time. Time to leave. Time to admit defeat and go home.

As we drove home, I couldn’t hold back the tears, although I managed to let them fall without anyone noticing.

We went home and put the kids to bed. They were so tired.

We played after they woke up and tried to reset everyone.

Lots of hugs and cuddles.

And then eventually bed time through their screaming and hitting again.

The struggle is real.


We are their safe place.

If an autistic child doesn’t behave at their most relaxed (aka also their worst) in front of you when they are with you – they aren’t as comfortable yet with you and they are still masking. Take the meltdown as a sign that they finally trust you.

(I want to add here that with covid many people might mistake this for physically wearing a mask, those compulsory ones everyone had to wear. I’m talking about autistic masking where the person basically acts or holds it together in front of others, tried to blend it, and then usually has a meltdown when they are in their safe space.)

Think about a time you had to mask. Perhaps someone close to you passed away (be it a human or animal companion). Remember that pain you felt inside? Remember coping on the outside. But when that one person who asked how you really are, and that one person is the one you felt safe with, and you collapsed in a crying ball with them?

That is how it is when the mask is taken off and the autistic child can let go of how they have been feeling.

Anyway, this morning I thought let’s try church. Prior to kids we used to attend regularly. Since having four kids someone is always sick. So today I thought let’s just try.

We took the headphones. We told the kids about the playground they could play in after church.

But we didn’t make it that far.

The twins lost it near the end (even being in the Children’s room with the toys, able to play and talk). Scott made an exit with Justin. I stayed with the other three in the kids room. I couldn’t even leave them to go get a tissue for a running nose because Lorelai’s screaming and wailing as I tried to do so.

As the last song began to play, my heart longed to sing along with the kids but my body did the best I could to exit with the three kids.

I sent Scott back to take Jeremiah for a quick play because he had done his absolute best to behave in a socially acceptable way – knowing the playground would be at the end. He asked many times about it. So it was something he needed.

I stayed in the car with the younger three and fought back my own tears.

This gig is hard.

That’s not a complaint by the way. I begged God for these children. They are the best blessings I’ve ever been given. That doesn’t change the fact that this is hard.

Yes all kids are challenging. Often people say this. I’m not sure why. Because telling that to a mum of children with significant additional needs is like saying to someone unable to walk (like when my Nanna could no longer walk) “everyone finds it a bit hard to walk at some point.” Um, what is your point? Apples and oranges much? Ableism much? The aim is probably to help the mum feel less upset but it does the opposite. It makes us feel like our situation isn’t as overwhelming as it actually is and that we are the ones that cannot handle things well.

On a side note. I’ve watched four adults try to look after my children and still need my help when we tried to access some respite a while ago. I was then looking after four children and four adults. Totally respite for me, not. So we haven’t tried that again.

Everyone says motherhood can be lonely. Isolating. You lose friends. Blah blah blah. It is all of that. Maybe one of my pre-kids friends still check in on me/keeps in touch, as I do with her too. I’ve stopped pouring my time into friends who aren’t there for me and who never were there for me through all of this.

So motherhood is all of that, but it’s heartbreaking too as we grieve the friends that we stood by though everything, but as our lives became complicated with our beautiful children and their needs, those friends became the painful radio silence that burned the ringing in my ears.

I see them out and about with other pre-kids friends. They have families now too. Their kids hang out. They hang out. We aren’t invited. They don’t visit. We are too complicated for them. That’s okay. I’ll take my kids any day. They have brought me more joy and purpose than absolutely anything or anyone ever has. My family is my absolute joy and remind me of the fingerprints of God daily.

I know this is a common theme with mums of children who have additional needs. I read it in our online groups all the time. A few years ago I never thought that would be me. But it is.

While I’m trying to hold back the tears in the car after church or after the lunch out, my heart cries for the fact that there’s simply no one to talk to anymore about this.

Perhaps it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming if there was someone. That friend who could laugh about it with you and giggle until they pee themselves as I tell them about how the other night during bath time Heath pulled out (yes with his hands!!!) a massive and long poo from his bum under the milky water and I belly laughed and removed the kids so fast from the water and as the water disappeared down the drain so did that massive poo. I have no idea how but it went out too. I laughed so hard.

If you’ve read this far, please be the person in the restaurant or at church who smiles and says “they’re fine, they are a blessing” so that mums like me don’t have the added pressure or weight of judgment to contend with about how we might impact everyone around us. Be that person who packs up our meal for us so we can exit faster. Or that person who comes over to offer their hand to walk the kids to the car with me. Or that person that reaches out to the partner. Guys need other guys too. Be the fellow dad that calls Scott and says “hey let’s hang out at the park together and grab a coffee, bring the kids, they are welcome too.”

And when I talk about doing that for me, or us, I don’t actually mean me (let’s face it I probably won’t be out for leisurely reasons in public with my gorgeous kids anytime soon). I’m talking about any parent with their kids. Just using us as an example.

Let’s build parents up and normalise and ACCEPT neurodiversity. Let’s create quiet spaces for neurodivergent children to access and to feel included (see my point below about even the Children’s hospital of all places). Let’s reach out to each other warts and all and include each other. Let’s send that text that says “how are you going? I’m struggling so much with this parenting gig. You too?” Be real. Let’s show each other the highlight reels but let’s also show these reels of reality (much like I am now).

I want to add a little side note too. For many years we’ve been told the correct terminology is “person with autism” or “person has autism” and I’ve been guilty of using this previously, thinking I was being respectful. I have learned over the years that a person doesn’t have autism, much like having an item with you. It is within them, they are autistic. They are also not with autism, much like being with a friend. They are autistic. It is how they think. It is who they are. How their brain works and reacts to this world. There is so much more to a person than a label, yes, however the terminology that is widely accepted by autism adults is exactly that, autistic.

On another side note, over the past three weeks these kids have attended so many hospital and medical appointments. And we actually reduced/cancelled quite a few for their sake. Even the Children’s hospital isn’t kid friends. There isn’t a space where they can just be allowed to let loose and be kids. Run hop touch things. Whatever. It’s the constant stress on the parents to redirect the children and don’t touch that or this or whatever. These kids, much like many other autistic kids, have been expected to hold it together through so many appointments. So many long drives. So much change which is in itself anxiety stacking. It’s exhausting and then that’s why some of the meltdowns occur when out. It’s all that trigger stacking. I’ve been trying my best to parent using the brain-body parenting approach and it works, but it doesn’t look like the traditional parenting approaches. I’m still learning and refining my skills.

Here’s one of those highlight reel photos

If you haven’t heard about brain-body parenting here’s a little blurb (I didn’t write this):

In Brain-Body Parenting, Dr. Delahooke offers a fresh approach to childrearing that focuses on a child’s unique perceptions of the world through their unique body and brain. Drawing on her extensive clinical experience and the latest neuroscience research, she shifts the focus from solving troublesome behavioral challenges to understanding the factors underlying that behavior. Instead of a “top-down” approach focusing on the brain, she calls for a “bottom-up” approach that considers the essential role of the entire nervous system, which produces children’s feelings and behaviors.

Dr. Delahooke offers parents tools to help their children develop self-regulation skills and encourages parental self-care, which is crucial for parents to have the capacity to provide the essential “co-regulation” children need. When parents shift from trying to secure compliance to supporting connection and balance in the body and mind, they unlock a deeper understanding of their child, encouraging calmer behavior, more harmonious family dynamics, and increased resilience.


Today was a hard day. I felt like a complete failure of a mother to my kids. Maybe I was a complete failure. It was meant to be a mummy daycare day for Jeremiah, but the twins were so needy that I didn’t give him much time. I wanted to, but the babies were crying, screaming and frantic most of the day. I kept my calm, but I wanted to join them. My heart broke for my boy who was waiting for his mummy time.

My boy 💕

Today broke me… I cried. I couldn’t fix things. I realised I am one person and I can’t be everything to everyone. Well, I’ve always known this fact, but today it was blatantly obvious.

The day started so well. After a terrible night, Lorelai had been up crying until past 9.30pm. She just wouldn’t sleep. I eventually got her to sleep, and then got some of my work done. Finally crawling into bed just past midnight. Longing for a good sleep, but up every hour or so to do that pregnancy pee. And Then Jeremiah woke at the fresh time of 5.15am and was ready for the day. Out of desperation he watched my phone, playing kids YouTube videos.

We all eventually got up and got ready for the day/for work, and the twins slept until 9.30. That has never, ever happened before. They are usually up bright and early. I wish I had found a way to have some solo Jeremiah time before they woke up, but I was feeding the dogs, getting things sorted for the day, getting him breakfast, getting dressed etc and then as we were sitting down together to build and play trains, the twins woke up. Because they both slept so long, they had very full nappies and both had pooed. Justin had soaked through, and the bed was wet. He needed a shower and so did Lorelai. Not complaining, I expected this after such a long sleep, however, it meant that the morning was full blast from 9.30am. Non-stop. Full on. Pulled in three directions at once. While dealing with one child (changing, washing etc), then having two others who are desperate for my attention – one being a twin baby that would be crying, and one being Jeremiah who kept saying “Mum, play with me.”

Twin parenting is so different to having a singleton. With one baby, I could sit and play with Jeremiah while entertaining one baby. I can’t do that with two clingy babies, both demanding my attention, pushing each other off of my lap to try claim sole ownership of their mother. Yes, they literally both do this. Don’t be fooled by Lorelai’s adorable and innocent looking face. She pushes Justin hard and kicks him to get off of my lap so I can be only hers. He then does the same back to her. We would make a really great reality TV show sometimes (maybe we could make a living that way hahaha – just kidding). I think about this concept and imagine viewers laughing that belly laugh at us and saying, “no! no way! It can’t possibly get any wor—- what?! It got worse!” and laughing so hard.

And then there’s Jeremiah. “Mum, play with me” still rings out in my ears. My heart aches. I want to, my love, but I also have to adult. I have to clean the babies, wash them, dry them, dress them, get the babies breakfast. They are not more important than you, but they also have needs that I have to meet. And I haven’t had breakfast yet myself, but that’s not your problem, Jeremiah.

The day went from great to bad to worse. The twins got clingier, they hurt themselves as they do, they needed me. Jeremiah tried so hard to play and interact with them. And the more he tried to play, the more it became even more obvious to me that my beautiful, sensitive, neurodiverse child does not understand how to interact with the babies, and I don’t know if he ever will. We have tried so hard to teach him. His idea of interaction with them means that I have to supervise so closely that everything, I mean everything else has to wait. I cannot leave them alone for a 1 minute pee break, or to go get food for the babies or him. I need to have such close supervision, because the interactions are not always safe. What he thinks is play, is often upsetting to Lorelai who cannot see well, or to Justin who plays rough and tumble. Or what he intends as love, like a beautiful hug, is so tight that it hurts the babies. His intentions are so beautiful and pure, but the actions don’t correlate. It must feel so horrible to constantly be trying to show your love for your siblings and have your mother telling you to let go or to stop holding or touching or squeezing them. (Or worse when others do this who just don’t understand you and reprimand you for simply trying to show love in the only way you know how to do.)

The entire day was micromanaging every interaction possible. At one point I was holding Jeremiah because he had been too rough and needed to be held back, and as I was doing that Lorelai fell off the couch. I couldn’t get to her in time to catch her because I was trying to stop an altercation from my older boy. Failure. Yeah, it sucks. I felt like I sucked. I should have been able to catch her, I was so close, but I was attending to my older boy, trying to protect everyone.


This is the side of Autism that many people don’t see. Many even see his loud, full-on behaviour as ‘naughty’ – a word I absolutely hate.

Worse still, many view the child as naughty. And this couldn’t be further from the truth.

My boy is trying so hard to interact with two siblings that he adores. And I am asking him to leave them alone. That must feel pretty horrible. To have your mum asking you to please leave your brother and sister alone when all you want to do is play with them.

Yeah – total failure.

My heart is so broken for my boy. I am teaching him, and trying and it will take time. But it isn’t his fault. I have to find ways to help him understand better.

The babies (I should probably call them toddlers now, but we still refer to them as the babies in our household) didn’t have their morning sleep which is when we would usually have Mummy Daycare time – just him and me time. He gets me all to himself. Not today, it was full on. Until the twins finally went down at 2pm. But then it was time for my boy to have his rest. When he wakes up so early he needs his rest or the remainder of the day goes from bad to worse.

So it was time after a few minutes of play to begin the wind down process for him to have a rest. He finally fell asleep at 2.50pm. I drifted off to sleep beside him. My favourite times are sleeping beside my boy, knowing he’s safe in my arms and everything is okay. And we have that peace, that calmness that we just don’t get during the awake hours. It is bliss, and I can breathe in my precious boy who I prayed for so hard for, for those 7 long years.

At 3pm the twins woke up. So that meant I dozed for about 5 minutes… life of a mum with children especially those with special needs… we learn to sleep during our sneezes and be ready to go again… well almost.

I carefully tiptoed out of the room to go get the twins up. They thought it was hilarious to keep playing on the only remaining chair in their area. I was stuck between two crying babies and two babies crying to climb the couch that they keep falling off. Stuck.

Jeremiah went off to dancing with his dad and again, I was still stuck. Could not leave these two babies alone for a few minutes. They kept hitting each other and making each other cry while the other laughed.

Twins – oh but twins are so cute. It must be so incredible having twins! (Well yes, it is, but it is also so incredibly challenging! Blessed beyond measure, exhausting beyond comprehension, too.)

The afternoon continued much the same way. This rollercoaster derailing faster and faster. I couldn’t stop it. Nothing worked. Yeah, failure.

The bedding I had washed from the night leakage, still sitting in the machine, waiting for me to hang it out. The dinner still sitting from lunchtime waiting to be put away.

Failure. Surely things can only get better from here.

Jeremiah’s behaviour was spiraling.

Dinner time, let’s get these kids fed and to bed as fast as we can.

Finally, the twins were in bed and starting to sleep. Finally, I could pull Jeremiah aside for that time he so desperately wanted, that he needed. His spiralling behaviour was his needs not being met by me. And that broke my heart. His spiralling behaviour is more of a reflection of my inability to micromanage his environment around him perfectly than any reflection of him. I hadn’t set his day up for success. I had tried, but I hadn’t succeeded today. Despite all of my effort.

Finally, we planted some bean seeds together for our experiment, played some learning games together, and then after a while his behaviour became destructive again. His needs were being met. His structure and routine were being followed, albeit at 7.30pm at night rather than during the day. So this contributed to his spiralling again.

And then finally, it was time to lie down together so that he could drift off to sleep with me beside him. I could apologise for failing as his mum today. For not giving him the attention, he so desperately wanted and needed. Where I could whisper in his ear just how much I absolutely love him. Where he could hold on to me so tight, the way he does every night, where his routine is the same and predictable and he can feel safe. And once again he can forgive this mum for not being the mum he needed today.

The washing still isn’t hung up. Failure as a wife too. The food still not put away. The dogs yet to be fed, and given their attention that they need. I’m yet to shower and get ready for work tomorrow, and daycare bags are yet to be prepared. Daycare lunches are yet to be made.

What a day. Yes, we all have them, but today broke my heart a little as I realised a little more that our boy is never going to find things easy. He can’t just interact with others. He has to be explicitly taught. And then taught this over and over again. Given the opportunity to practice. And then the babies have to be the ones to give him this practice which means that they get hurt too.

He has to work so hard to be like everyone else. It doesn’t come naturally. I have to work so hard to protect everyone. And I am drained. Nothing left, and still I must go on and get this stuff done, past midnight again. But instead I pour my heart out here as a release, but also for awareness (people who have no direct interaction on a daily basis with autism don’t see or understand this), and also to be real. To show that I don’t have it all together – ain’t that obvious! I am human. I fail. I hurt, but I will keep trying with every ounce of my being.

I also share this so that my children can see me for me. For all of my flaws. One day I want them to know that I was just doing my best. That when they have kids and are having hard days, they can look back and see that their mother struggled too, that no one is perfect and that we all fail at things. And that is okay. We can pick up and try again. They can pick up and try again. And if one day I am not here to say this to them, they have this all recorded for them. And I can reflect if I become so far removed that I forget how hard it is raising a young family with diverse needs.

Failure. It’s okay, we can grow and learn from our failures. It gives us opportunities to be real, to connect, to strip everything back and build again. I am thankful for days like this. It makes the better days seem like a dream, but it also makes me realise things. I get to see that my boy is trying so hard, all of the time. Even when it seems like he is not. He is. And he is my little hero. He will always be my hero. He has far greater resilience than I do. He forgives his mummy day in and day out. He keeps trying to interact with his siblings when they push him away so much and cry. He’s constantly dealing with rejection from them in a way. He’s brave, he’s strong, he tries. He is my world.

Tomorrow will be better. We will all try again.

(Editing to add, this was written a few weeks ago but I’ve only had a chance to upload it now. 😂)


Sometimes it’s really exhausting being a mum to a child on the autism spectrum. I hate to admit that, but I think it’s so important to be real. To be authentic in motherhood. I do want to be clear though, being exhausted, drained etc never ever means that I don’t want my children or love them wholeheartedly. It’s quite the opposite. It’s BECAUSE I love them with every part of my being that I am sometimes so exhausted. Parenting any child is challenging.

Love this kid! He was so excited about a jumping castle.

I adore my boy more than there’s words. I’m his biggest fan and also his biggest advocate. I will do anything to build him up. I love this kid more than life itself. He’s everything and more.

But sometimes it all takes a toll on me too. And sometimes things overwhelm me too. Sometimes it’s all too much and I crumble too. But not for long. I can’t afford to because he needs me. The twins need me.

This morning was one of those times. One of those times where the reality of having a child on the spectrum was made blatantly obvious. Where all of the little things added up to be huge. And meltdowns set in.

We had family photos booked in. They do mini sessions around here once a year. Where you pay next to nothing for a quick 20 minute session. Take a few snaps and done.

We don’t really have any family photos because asd. Pretty much. He hates photos. Doesn’t look at the camera. Moves so fast. And then twins. Try getting both looking at the same time. That’s a challenge on its own. And then motherhood. I’m lucky to get a shower, never mind look half human enough for a family photo.

So I’d booked in these photos. Months ago. Even got a discount. Perfect. Found the outfits in their wardrobes. Got the outfits ready last night ahead of time. Hadn’t found one for me but I could find something to hide behind the kids in sometime in the morning.. I even got to have a nice, hot shower this morning and put on some mascara. Winning.

Yesterday Jeremiah had a mini party, more like a play date that went most of the day and then into the evening with a variety of friends over various times (thanks Covid). It was a lot for him. I should have known better. That he wouldn’t be able to cope with anything extra today. But the photos were booked long before his mini party was.

We had surprised him with a jumping castle for him and his friends. This time last year he still couldn’t jump. So now he can and we thought it would be great fun for the kids. (And 2020 has been such a rough year, so we thought we could all use a little happiness) And it was fun. Until it rained and it had to be let down. That was another meltdown for him yesterday between friends arriving.

This morning we got the castle back up and Scott dried it all off. He’d scooped out all the water. Just so Jeremiah could have another jump this morning before it got taken away. The twins, Jeremiah and us were all on together having some fun.

Actually got all of us looking!

Then it was time to come in and wash Jeremiah’s hair for the photos. Another huge trigger. Washing hair is such a massive sensory thing for him and is so hard to do. We always have to prepare him in advance. We’d been preparing him since yesterday so he knew it was coming and had to be done.

Finally we had the whole family ready to go get the photos. The twins were screaming and crying because they were over tired, ready for a sleep and a bottle. So they were in the car, w were going to drive for a bit so they’d sleep before the photos. We’d get there early. Everything would be okay.

And then the people arrived to take down the jumping castle.

Jeremiah lost it. He bawled his eyes. Complete meltdown that the castle was going. Hyperventilating bawling. The entire time they were taking it down. He was watching and bawling. My heart felt shattered. I wished so much I could help my boy. Unfortunately though, this is life. Sometimes we have to say goodbye to things and people/animals we love. And this was one of those times he just had to go through. That heartache for him is something I had to sit with him on.

He was so distraught watching the jumping castle getting packed away.

He cried all the way to the photos. Oh my goodness. It couldn’t have been a harder start for him.

We had to push him to just walk in the front door to be safe from the road full of cars driving past.

He has an insanely great memory and remembered from last year that Santa came out. Only this time he was terrified. Last year he loved Santa. We asked him why and he said that Santa keeps watching them at daycare on the Santa cam. We explained to him that’s just pretend but he couldn’t get past it. The entire session was him covering his ears, his eyes and generally not going anywhere near the couch where the photos happen. And also crying. And this is all without any Santa – we had said we can do it all without Santa. Santa wasn’t even present to be honest. It was literally a beautiful couch set up for a family to sit on. If we wanted Santa we could request it or it could just be us as a family which is why I picked this place. That wasn’t enough for Jeremiah though. He was too scared and beyond his limits. Trigger stacked to the max. New place. New surroundings. Memories. Thoughts. He was in a complete brain meltdown. And there was nothing that we could do to help him or reason with him.

Desperately trying to get the twins to stay on the couch, and Jeremiah too.

The twins then started crying and screaming. It was all too much for everyone. For him. For me. For the twin. And for Scott.

When we got back in the car there was another meltdown because we had said that if he smiled for the photos that we would go to the shop and he could get a toy (this was in the lead up to going for the photos). Well now he wanted the toy. We explained that he didn’t smile for the photos (or cooperate in the slightest really) so that means no toy.

He lost it. And then we are stuck in a place of we need to teach him about consequences. That we don’t get what we want especially if we don’t do what it was that we had agreed to do. But then he did just go through a huge amount of triggers just this morning alone. What do we do? Give in? Stand firm? Reward that he even walked in the place? Parenting a child on the spectrum is so challenging.

We had offered him Maccas before the photos and he had said his tummy was full so we’d get it afterwards. We asked him if he wanted Maccas when we’d finished and he’d calmed enough to talk and he said no. We asked a few times. Explained that we can’t come back and get it. No he didn’t want it. Okay, we are going home. Asked him one last time but he didn’t want Maccas.

We got home and suddenly he wants Maccas. Another complete meltdown.

Emotionally draining. He doesn’t comprehend.

Yes I know kids, all kids, behave like this at times. The difference with children on the spectrum is it’s trigger stacking. All of these little things are little triggers. Stacked up. Into one tall stack of triggers and then it crashes. Comes tumbling down. And we have meltdowns. One that no reasoning or anything will stop. No it’s not naughty behaviour. My son is spiralling. His emotions are too huge to control. And we can’t do anything but allow him to go through this. We can be with him but that’s about it.

Finally he calmed. After a long time. The iPad is one of our lifesavers in times like this. After he calms that helps him to then regulate his emotions. I sat with him. He held my hand. We sat together. And then he looked up at me and saw my silent tears rolling down my cheek.

Finally calm. Holding on to my hand. Eating one of his birthday cupcakes.

He reached up and wiped them away. (He has the most gentle, kind and caring soul.) Asked me why I was sad and I explained that I was so excited to get some family photos of us all together. Smiling together. And that it didn’t happen but that it’s okay and I still love him. I’m just feeling sad.

He said, “we can try again, we can go on Saturday and try again.” I explained that we can’t. That we’ve had our one turn today, we can’t afford to pay twice. We had to pull the money together for this try today.

He said we can try again, quite a few times. Until I think he finally understood that we couldn’t. And then said to me “it’s okay Mum, we can try again another time.”

Yes my love, we will try again, next year.

My brain was exhausted. It still is. I took him for a daytime nap which is very hit and miss right now. He asked me why he had to sleep. I explained that his brain is so extremely clever. That is is always thinking. Always remembering things. And that brains that are as clever as his also need time to rest or they can get sick. So he lay down beside me, crawled his fingertips and then hand and arm up into my long sleeve of my jumper as he always does when he needs comfort, and we rested together. We both slept. Much needed sleep. He slept for almost 3 hours when we woke him. His brain was exhausted.

Tonight when I was putting him to sleep, I asked him, “what is my favourite thing in the whole world?” And he replied “being my mum” – yes my love. Never ever forget it. I tell him everyday just how much I love being his mum. And just how much I love him. I’m the luckiest mum in the whole world to be his mum. To be the twin’s mum. But it’s also okay to feel exhausted. To have nothing left in the tank. To have poured out everything we have. And to feel disappointment when that one thing we hoped would work out didn’t. That’s how my son feels when he’s got triggers thrown at him everyday all day. He’s a little hero. He has so many challenges and he keeps trying so hard.

Those precious moments when he is with me, his mum, and we are drifting off to sleep, I treasure. One day he won’t need me. That’s okay. In fact that’s the aim.

Today was tough. Tomorrow will be better. The best is yet to come.

The Power of Inclusion

Ask any parent of a child with disabilities or special/additional needs, and they will tell you that they want their kid to be happy and to be included. We don’t care if they are academically excelling, we want them to be happy.

When I first started noticing Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) traits in my tiny baby back in 2016, I was worried for his future if he had asd. When the gap between him and his peers became even more noticeable around a year and a half to two years old, I was worried that he would be left out.

When he was 2-3 years old I was concerned he may not be well received by his peers or their parents because he hadn’t yet been invited to many parties. Not that he would have noticed. He was oblivious to things like that. He didn’t notice if his peers were playing something and he was on his own.

When he turned 3 we held a big party for him. I originally hadn’t wanted to have a party at all but he was becoming more aware that birthdays mean a party and cake. So he wanted to have a party, a Mack truck party. The reason it was a big party was because we wanted to include all children from his daycare. We didn’t want anyone to be left out. And it ended up being such a fun day meeting all of the kids and their parents.

He’s been to quite a few parties in the last year. He’s loved them. But I don’t think he’s realised how much it has made me so happy to see him so happy.

Because of covid there haven’t been many parties or events to attend, but tomorrow he’s invited to a party for one of his good friends at daycare. Let’s call his friend Harold (I won’t use the child’s real name to protect their identity and privacy).

Tonight as I was putting Jeremiah to bed, I was holding his hand as we do every night, and he was getting those sleepy eyes. I said to him, “tomorrow morning you are going to Harold’s party.” I wish I could have taken a photo that would show this image that next happened. With those sleepy eyes staring at the ceiling, a giant tooth-filled smile swept across his face and his eyes lit up. That smile stayed there for at least a minute and then he drifted off to sleep. And I sat there holding his hand and trying my best to hold back the happy tears. My kid is included. And that makes me the happiest mother in the world. To see that response brought overwhelming tears of joy to my heart and eyes.

Yeah, the flash also kinda woke him up a little as I tried to capture him lying there smiling that beautiful toothy grin.

Last year he was invited to a beautifully small birthday party. The parents of this party decided to have it where they did instead of having it at a jumping place that they were going to have it because (at the time) Jeremiah couldn’t yet jump. When I found out that they had cared that much about my kid, I’ll admit, there were so many happy tears. I don’t ever expect anyone to change plans or invite him just for the sake of it, but when parents are so thoughtful that they really, truly want to include him, and go above and beyond…wow. That totally blew me away with that type of thoughtfulness and consideration. That type of parenting is going to raise a generation of inclusive leaders who truly are incredible and will be world changers.

Never underestimate the power of inclusion. Especially for children who are different. They have to work twice as hard as other kids to fit in, to be liked and accepted. And when they are included, it not only makes the child so happy, but the parents too.

I read so many posts on autism pages where the child with asd has been the only one excluded from a child’s party, or where they held a party and no one turned up. To me, that often says more about the parents/how kids are raised than the child.

We are so blessed to live in a beautiful community where children are taught to be kind. The kids here are so lucky to be in a community that is kind. Where acceptance is valued and actually encouraged. Jeremiah’s daycare educators are incredible and have created an extended family for every child that attends and for their families. I think this has helped with the inclusion and acceptance for all children by each child. The focus is on the friendships and the things kids do well rather than the ways kids might stand out.

So to all of the parents and educators who have accepted and included my child wholeheartedly, thank you! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

Children with disabilities, special needs or additional needs all want the same thing, to be loved, accepted and included. Imagine a world where we all did exactly this. This world would be a better place.

Tonight I’ll go to sleep with a smile on my face, just like my little boy did, because I know he’s going to be okay. He’s included, he’s loved and he’s accepted which makes him happy.

My happy boy.

Three under three

You’ll probably remember our post about when our twins got sick and were hospitalised. That was when we learned about Lorelai’s Albinism diagnosis and therefore her legally blind diagnosis. We also learned that she was aspirating into her lungs when she was drinking milk and a nasal gastric tube (NG tube) was inserted. We had to learn how to feed our daughter through a range of ways (some by mouth and some by tube with a side lying feeding position to limit aspiration risk).

In the days, weeks and months that followed we made countless trips back to the hospital each time the tube came out. At least weekly but usually every few days. Our little girl was growing well and making gains, but these regular hospital trips at all hours of the day and night were not just taking a toll on us, they were taking a toll on her.

She was always such a happy, chilled baby. And then we’d have to pin her down and let hospital staff insert the tube down her nose. She’d scream and cry until she was hyperventilating. It’s horrible to do this to a child you love, especially a little baby that trusts you. I dreaded each time it came out for the hurt it would cause my daughter.

In November when Scott was away on a camp, in the early hours of the morning, during the still of the darkness, I heard Lorelai in her cot making strange breathing noises. I knew that sound all too well. I picked her up to discover once again her tube was almost out. I pulled the rest of it out, and in that moment hearing her distressed cry that we had become so familiar with for each tube change, I decided enough. Enough of the distress on my baby girl. If our “urgent” appointment at The Children’s Hospital wasn’t going to be until she was 8 months old, then my little girl wasn’t going to endure another tube unless we were admitted to hospital.

And here we are, almost 4 months later and she is thriving. Yes, I’ve had to be extremely careful with her. Always feeding her in the special side lying position, head raised and thickened milk. Yes, I’ve had to be so alert and watch for any of the signs of aspiration before it occurred. And yes, we’ve done well together.

We had one hospital trip a little while ago when our specialist team asked us to trial non-thickened milk (like most babies have). She did well for the first day and then declined slowly until she wasn’t drinking, became lethargic and had a fever. I knew these were the red flags for possible aspiration and pneumonia so I took her to the hospital which was part of her management plan. She bounced back quickly after a short stay there and we put her straight back on thickened milk. She’s done well ever since, as we continue to wait for the Children’s Hospital appointment to explore further what is going on.

Justin has similar feeding issues as Lorelai so he is fed the same way. He also has pretty bad reflux and thankfully medication has helped him a lot.

Due to the complexity of their feeding, especially the tube, I felt so confined to home. It was so hard to get out at all. Over the last few weeks I’ve been making a big effort to get out with them. It’s exceptionally hard to do with my back being so bad. I fractured my back when I sat down a few months ago and and also when I tried to lift one of my children. The last scan revealed 5 spinal fractures. It’s quite scary having osteoporosis, knowing I can fracture at any moment but I’ve decided not to let that prison me. I’ve been doing physio exercises with the aim of strengthening my core to support my bones.

Jeremiah is such a wonderful big brother. He loves his twins. They love him. Jeremiah especially loves his brother Justin. He’s always trying to make him laugh, and Justin is always looking for Jeremiah. The laughter between those two is music to my ears.

Lorelai is on the move. She’s almost crawling and isn’t going to let her vision impairment hold her back. She is extremely sound sensitive so perhaps she will love music.

We are extremely tired. That’s an understatement. Haha. Jeremiah still wakes a few times during the night, Justin wakes every few hours and Lorelai sleeps mostly through from about 8/9pm until 4am. If we could get them all in sync we’d have more sleep for us haha

Sometimes I feel like time has flown by too quickly. It really has. All those years waiting and praying felt like forever, and now the last 3 and half years have flown by. Can you believe Jeremiah is 3?! This kid is amazing. He makes me smile so much. The conversations we have melt my heart. I love hearing his thoughts.

I don’t get to update this as much as I’d like, or to talk about mum life as much as I’d like, because the season we are in now is survival mode. And trying to be in the moment as much as possible. Life as a mum of twins and a toddler is full on. Beyond any words I could use to describe this. BUT I love this. I wouldn’t change any of them for anything. They are such beautiful blessings. I love seeing them grow and develop. They take my breath away daily.

Three under three. Life is hectic. Life is full. Life is unpredictable. And I’m so blessed beyond measure with these three beautiful miracles.

World Autism Day – 2nd April 2020


Happy World Autism Day. A day so very close to my heart. I was once like many. I was scared of autism. I was scared of potentially one day having a child with autism. I hoped and prayed that when we eventually had kids, that none of them would have autism. Oh how naive I was.

Autism isn’t something to be scared of. It isn’t something to worry about if your child has it. Autism can be a beautiful gift. A blessing.

I remember looking at my beautiful baby boy who, at 6 weeks old, still wouldn’t hold eye contact with me like other babies would with their parents. I remember the flapping hands as he would lie on his back looking at the world around him – this is called stimming. My teeny, tiny, little baby. I saw the red flags early. I documented anything I saw. And slowly, we had a 3 page list of autism traits by the time he was a year and a half. (It’s important to note that almost everyone has some traits that are ASD traits, this doesn’t equate to being on the spectrum.)

I had worked on eye contact with him from the very beginning. When he would enter a doctors appointment he would look at the doctor as I had taught him to do with people. But it was never quality. Eye contact does not equal quality. Doctors would comment about how he couldn’t be on the spectrum because he’s got eye contact. Oh if only they knew more.

I’ve always had such a keen interest and passion for children and adults with disabilities and special/additional needs. I’ve had many interactions with children who have Autism. And I’ve loved each of them dearly. Their love of life and uniqueness is something to love and embrace. Not to be scared of.

We went on the long waitlist for my boy to be officially assessed for autism. That list was a long wait. A year! In the meantime I took him to be tested privately (they can’t give an official diagnosis or a level number) and it turned out he was very highly likely on the spectrum. No surprise.

We did lots of work with him, he saw community speech, but we were already doing everything she suggested (bonus in having an early childhood degree – we did a lot of study into children with additional needs). We finally got some OT for him (massive waitlists there too) and psychology too (even longer waitlist).

The week before I was due to have the twins, it was finally his official assessment time at the hospital. I got us ready early because I know anything can set him off and then getting in the car can turn into what feels like world war three, well almost. And unfortunately on this morning that is exactly what happened. I gave us an hour and a half extra in case this happened. And it did. It took that long for him to get into his car seat and be clipped up. It wasn’t a tantrum. It was a meltdown. It was a change in his regular routine. And for the first time ever with his meltdowns, I ended up bawling my eyes out.

We were, in the end, half an hour late to his appointment. Not because we weren’t ready in time (we were set to be there an hour and a half early as I said before) but because we couldn’t leave to get there.

That assessment took about 4 hours to complete. It involved extensive reports from other health professionals who had been working with him, multiple assessments done there at the hospital by the paediatrician, the OT, the Speechie, the psychologist and the social worker. It was all filmed too, and students on their Prac placement at the hospital were watching from behind a screen so they could learn. And multiple questions to me. It was long. Draining. Hard. But so worth it.

I guess I went there knowing the answer but hoping I was going to get a different one. I don’t know why. I guess life is hard enough without having additional needs.

The team had their discussions away from us after all of the assessments and when they returned, we were still in the assessment room. We had been allowed to go away for a bit, but my boy wouldn’t leave the safety of the room that he was now comfortable in.

The team delivered the news. Yes, our concerns were grounded in reality. Our little boy, almost 3 years old (at the time) is on the spectrum. Level 2 Autism. That is quite a significant diagnosis/level requiring significant intervention for him. Lifelong.

My head began to spin in a wilderness of relief and realisation. Relief that finally my boy can gain access to regular early intervention which he so desperately needed (he was still mostly non-verbal at this stage). And the realisation that this is him. The rest of his life he will be finding ways to fit in and blend in, in a world that is scared of people with autism. In a world where people would rather not vaccinate their child, potentially allowing a disease to KILL their child, *in case* vaccines cause autism (I firmly believe that vaccines DO NOT cause autism – I saw these red flags BEFORE his vaccinations began). [side note – please do not turn this into a vaccine debate.] I realised my boy might be treated differently. That people may not give him the time and love that he needs because he is different to other children. He had already been through so much with his spina bifida and spinal surgery when he was just one year old. Now this.

But you know what? He’s now almost a year post official diagnosis and he’s THRIVING!!! He does need to be taught many social things explicitly and reinforced a lot. Life is a constant juggling act to try to avoid most triggers while allowing him to have some so that he can learn coping strategies with us supporting him as he does this.

And he has taught me so much. Autism is not something to fear. It is beautiful. The way he sees the world is refreshing. The way he problem solves things is amazing. I’m learning all of the time from my miracle little boy. He gives me so many laughs. He is absolutely hilarious. Such a character and everywhere he goes, he turns heads. He is perfect as he is.

Yes autism, is a neurological condition and therefore is challenging for my boy and for us to navigate the world through his eyes. But I wouldn’t change things. It is what makes him extra special. Extra amazing. Extraordinary!!!

This time last year he wasn’t speaking. He was still signing for communication. Now, he’s come so far. We can actually have conversations with each other. It brings tears to my eyes. I am beyond proud of him and I know he will use his ASD to bring so much awareness, understanding and love for people who have ASD.

Autism is not something to fear. It is not something to worry about. It is a unique way of seeing the world. It is real. Authentic. Beautiful.

I saw an interview today with a boy and his mother. The boy has autism. During the interview the boy yawned as things were getting boring for him. I smiled and let out a big laugh. I love this. I love that people on the spectrum often (not everyone) don’t innately have the social awareness of what would be considered appropriate. I love that they don’t hide behind masks but that they are real, what you see is what you get.

If you ask my boy if he’d like to hug his (mum, dad, grandparent, friend etc) and he doesn’t want to, he replies “no” and carries on doing whatever he’s doing. Love the rawness and truth. He tells you life how he sees it. If he gives you a hug, it’s real. If he tells you he loves you, he means it. And often he finds such unique ways, far beyond his years, of solving a problem or challenge.

So on this World Autism Day, I hope you find so much love for these special, unique and incredible humans who we need so much in our lives. They will be the ones that fill in the gaps that neurotypical people can’t. Atypical neurodiversity needs to be celebrated. Because when you do, you create a world where my beautiful boy will be loved, supported and be able to reach his full potential.

He lights up my life.
Love this kid so much.
He is the best big brother to the twins.

Exceedingly, abundantly and beyond

Our story goes back quite a while ago. We shared it in depth when our daughter Hope passed away during pregnancy in 2015. But there’s more to this beautiful puzzle and masterpiece.

[side note – I was going to post this on Tuesday the 12th November, but out of respect for the heightened bushfire emergency, I decided to wait. My prayers and thoughts are with everyone involved with the fires.]

I forget the year but many years ago I went to Colour Conference. Prescilla was speaking. And I still clearly remember her message words. “God will go exceedingly, abundantly and beyond your wildest dreams or imagination.” At the time those words were words of hope, but they also stung. I was still in the wilderness, waiting for our dreams to be fulfilled. We were still in the season of infertility and loss. Heartbreak. But I clung to those words believing that God is a God of love and that His plans are better than my own.

Fast forward to few years ago when I was again at Colour conference. A beautiful woman of God told her story of infertility and loss and heartache. She was still in the same season that I was. And then again another beautiful woman shared her journey and how it had led her to adopt a beautiful daughter from another country. And then when Bobbie stood up and prayed for those who were in the season of infertility and loss she asked us to stand if that was us. At that time I was too broken to even stand. God knew though. In my heart I stood up and climbed on top of my chair and reached my arms heavenward. On the outside I sat in my chair, head bowed and tears streaming down my face that I tried to hide. At that moment it was very early days of being pregnant with Jeremiah. Talking 4 weeks if that. I had no idea if this was going to be another loss. Each and every day of that pregnancy I spoke life over my boy. I spoke the words of Jeremiah 29v11-14 “for I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. And then you shall come to me and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and you will find me, when you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you.” Declares the Lord” Such fitting words and oh how God heard each and every one of my desperate prayers and then on the 15th October 2016 our perfect little Jeremiah was born. End story? Well, not quite. My heart was so overjoyed, yet our dreams weren’t complete… yet.

Fast forward again and I was again at Colour Conference. This time Bobbie played a prayer she filmed when she had visited a special place from the Bible. My memory is hazy but I think it had something to do with Sarah in the Bible. Anyway she asked us to stand for those who we know who were on the trying to conceive journey and infertility. I stood for a few of my friends, by this point I had Jeremiah. Who was I to ask God for more for us? But in my heart I yearned for more children. I tried not to cry for myself. I reached heavenward with my arm and held Jeremiah with the other. I praised God for the miracle of Jeremiah and believed in great things to come. Just as we had named Jeremiah after the verses in the Bible Jeremiah 29.11-14. God has plans for good. To go exceedingly, abundantly and beyond because He is a loving God. He is our Father and father’s love their children.

I can’t remember which year it was but again at Colour Conference a clip was played about a birth photography Christian business. Their photos were beautiful and captured the miracle of birth in a dignified way. They also donated a percentage of their profits to set up and run a maternity hospital in Uganda. Talk about tears to see this. I love how God touches hearts to make a difference in the world and better the lives of others. Sometimes we are the miracle that God sends to those praying for one. I thought right there if I was ever blessed with another pregnancy that I’d pay for them to capture the first hellos and also contribute to funding that maternity hospital to help others.


Scott and I had always wanted three children of our own but after trying for seven years to have Jeremiah we were content and thankful with one. I did long to give him a sibling though. Once I found out I had osteoporosis we learned my time was running out to try for another and my body certainly couldn’t sustain many more pregnancies, possibly not even one more. So our dream of three was quickly revised to hope and pray for one more child, a sibling for Jeremiah.



That little bundle of cells became one of our twins.

We had already gone through another round of IVF to get some embryos as we weren’t ready to transfer yet. Here’s the funny part – previously each cycle we’d been lucky to get one embryo to transfer, usually none or one to freeze if lucky… well on this round, we got seven to freeze!!! SEVEN! Like, how did that happen?! Anyway we were finally at the point to go again for a frozen transfer in November 2018. They transferred one embryo. And by sheer miracle we got that positive pregnancy test. Then my HCG blood test at exactly 4 weeks came back at 740. I remember being suspicious of the high level. In my head I contemplated the thought of another baby in there. I usually only get around 110-150 hcg at 4 weeks of pregnancy. The good news of this pregnancy was shortly followed by bleeding. It felt like each time before when bleeding equalled loss. We saw our obstetrician at 7 weeks to see if there was a heartbeat or if this was another miscarriage.


Pretty strong pregnancy test, much to our surprise


I was lying on the bed while he moved the ultrasound equipment around and I tried to make out things on the screen. He was still and quiet over one part. I stared at the screen, hopeful that I would see that precious flicker. As I searched the screen and tried to keep breathing calmly, I saw what looked like two flickers. It couldn’t be, we only transferred one embryo and I was bleeding. I looked again, there were definitely two little flickers. I looked at Scott and wondered if he could see what I could see. The obstetrician, after a while, turned to us to say that there were two heartbeats. To our joy and delight, we had seen two little flickers on the screen. Happy tears rolled down my face.


Our two little flickers

The next 13 weeks were full of uncertainty due to the continued bleeding. We were classed as a threatened miscarriage that whole time. My obstetrician was realistic. He’d never had a twin pregnancy with unexplained bleeding make it through to a live birth. Singletons, yes. Twin pregnancy with explained bleeding, yes. But unexplained bleeding, no, they had always ended in losses. I felt there was little celebrating with the threatened miscarriage terminology. I was terrified. I shared a post about that previously if you’d like to read it. Every time I went to the toilet, checking for blood, seeing blood. Terrifying. Would this all come crashing down at any given moment? So I learned to pray again in a different way. I had already been begging for a miracle and telling God how terrified I was. I learned to actually physically hand over my fear and say “here is my fear. It’s no longer mine to own and carry. God, thank you for taking my fear.” And over time I actually became less worried about the bleeding and just knew that God had this. And my worrying wouldn’t change anything.


Two babies!!


At 20 weeks a baby is officially a baby and no longer a miscarriage if lost. So although the complications didn’t stop there, we were going to have two babies one way or another. We prayed and prayed and prayed that we would have two babies born alive and that would live. God showed us miracles each day.


This was such a mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually challenging pregnancy. Unsure if we’d lose our babies was stressful. My body struggled. Two babies, two placentas, two lots of fluid. The swelling in my feet and body. I won’t go into the long list of complications and struggles. There were so many. It was hard to keep my positivity up and my focus off of my pain. It was a huge test of my faith and my perseverance. Such a struggle physically and all the while doing this as a secret twin pregnancy. We decided to have some fun amongst the stress and surprise everyone with twins at birth. It gave us something to look forward to when it all felt like doom and gloom.

Our announcement post – notice the two babies on the page Jeremiah is holding? hehe


Jeremiah had began saying “two babies” which was so adorable but also became clearer and clearer as the pregnancy progressed. At first only we could tell what he was saying but towards the end, I’m sure almost anyone could tell what he was saying. Haha.


At 36 weeks our beautiful blessings and miracles were born via a very necessary c section. God knew the desires of our hearts to have three children and the physical limitations of my body for future pregnancies. He gifted us our dreams in a way that only God can. And not only that, God knew the deepest desires of my heart to have a daughter. I would have been happy with all boys, and boys are such a joy and delight. I wouldn’t change Jeremiah for a daughter. I adore him and he’s everything I could have dreamed of. Yet God still knew the longing I had inside to have a daughter. To have that mother daughter relationship that I so longed to create and uphold and value. God fulfilled that longing in this one pregnancy. To be blessed with a boy and a girl is the most beautiful most grace filled miracle. And God knew that Jeremiah will probably need a brother to support him and be there for him. I’m so incredibly grateful that we were blessed with a boy and a girl. Like, how on earth did that happen?! God went exceedingly, abundantly and beyond. That’s how. Those words that were prophesied all those years ago came to life in our family. Three children. Boys and a girl.


The Monday before I had the babies.

Yep – I was HUGE!


Jeremiah and Scott kissing the babies.


Each ultrasound always had bits of the other twin in the background


This was about 3.30am on one of the hospital visits for lots of bleeding. I was told my HCG has going down so I was probably miscarrying.


So if I could tell that woman or couple struggling with infertility right now (or any struggle) something it would be this. God will go exceedingly abundantly and beyond your wildest dreams and expectations. The best is yet to come. It won’t be in your timing, but it will be in His perfect timing. None of our journey and story would mean that much if it had come easy. I wouldn’t realise the absolute miracle that these children are if we hadn’t spent years in the desert praying and mourning. I think God allows some things to happen (let’s be clear though, He doesn’t make bad things happen) so that we can learn invaluable lessons. Our children are so valued and treasured by us for the precious miracles they are. I don’t take a moment for granted, I try not to. And I am full of thankfulness for these miracles.


Jeremiah, Justin and Lorelai are part of hundreds of babies that have been born to people who have been desperately praying for a miracle and who have stood in faith (even if it was internally because on the outside they were too broken to stand) at Colour Conferences across the globe. Bobbie Houston, if you ever read this – thank you. Thank you so much for listening to that call on your heart and for following that. My miracles are here and so many others are too as a result of divine intervention.


As a mother now to two special needs children (see previous posts, but in a nutshell Jeremiah has a complex medical diagnosis; Lorelai also has a complex one including legally blind), I am blessed beyond measure. My children have taught me the essence of love. They are perfect as they are and they have a purpose. They are meant to be here. And I know God has plans for good, for hope. I still sometimes can’t believe we finally have our three children. That our dreams came through from that wilderness of darkness to now. Don’t lose hope. The best is yet to come.


I also think stress/worry can steal so much joy from our lives. I know it did a lot of my pregnancy so I had to keep reminding myself to not be anxious about anything but instead to pray and give my worries to God, and you know what? It works. That burden of anxiety can leave you and you can enjoy the moments. This verse is such a great mantra to live by, and I know for me I have to be deliberate in my mind to breathe and let go, otherwise I will worry, and to be honest, what does worry actually do? It doesn’t change the outcome. Here’s the verse that I absolutely love:

Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV) “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

I love how it says in that verse, “with thanksgiving” – because I think that is the key also, that when we are so worried, if we give our worries to God, and then LOOK for everything to be thankful for, our perspective shifts. We gradually start to see the beauty even in the really challenging times.

I won’t lie, it’s been challenging coming to terms with Lorelai’s multiple diagnosis’. But, I know the story is not over yet. This was just the start, God’s already brought us through those seasons of waiting for our children, and then having them. And now we are parents to children with special needs and to twins. I’m part of all of these ‘clubs’ I never new existed. I know that God will use everything for good in His perfect timing. Already Lorelai’s diagnosis has brought us closer together within our local community. She will grow up feeling loved and included and won’t be excluded for her disability, and we will utilise all of her strengths and abilities.

Life is good. Life is wonderful. Sometimes it is easier to allow the situations to bring us down. To cripple us. But that doesn’t help anyone. Yes be sad, and come to terms, then find a way to be thankful and to release our worries.

Thinking back to November the 12th 2018, we had no idea that in 12 months time so much would have happened in our lives (more to come when I get another few weeks to write a few sentences between wake ups each night haha) and that we would have TWINS!!

So happy transfer day twins – not sure which one of you got transferred but we will celebrate you both on this special day! We love you more than we could ever put down in words but we will spend the rest of our lives trying to show you by our actions as we parent you.

Our three rainbow babies.

Our wonderful obstetrician.

Thank you to The First Hello for capturing these beautiful images.


Lorelai – our beautiful girl

This is a reminder to trust your gut. Always trust your gut. I wish so much that I was off, but I am learning that we are given these instincts and intuition for a reason.

I remember the nurse placing Lorelai on my chest so I could see her and Justin on my chest too while the obstetrician stitched my belly up. That hair, that white hair… I remember thinking, “I wonder if she is albino*…” I asked the nursing staff later on in the hospital and they light-heartedly brushed it off and said she is just very blonde.

Lorelai often spews after or during feeds. It often comes out her nose. I’ve mentioned this so many times to various health professionals, both at hospital and the regular check-ups we have for the babies. On a Facebook group someone had the same issues with her baby. A speech pathologist said this is something that you need to see a speech pathologist for. I would never have known a speech pathologist would see a newborn for issues like this. I private messaged the speechie that said to get a referral and she explained a few things to me and why we might want to see a speechie.

So, I asked for a referral for Lorelai to see a speechie. Was told it’s not necessary and she’s feeding well, putting on weight and it’s normal for babies to spew. I insisted on a referral anyway. A speech pathologist called me and asked me so many questions and decided she needed to see us urgently to watch a feed and see what’s going on. She booked me in for the following week.

I have noticed that when I play with Lorelai, look at her, do tracking exercises that it is very hit and miss with her. Mostly miss. It’s like she is looking through you not at you. Like she can’t see you. I brought this up at her first and second check-up after returning home from birth. Both times they looked and said there’s nothing to worry about… but hat nagging feeling inside of me wouldn’t go away.

Long story short, the twins have been very sick and were in hospital for almost 2 weeks. Justin had breathing difficulties. Justin was admitted on the Friday night and monitored. He seemed to come right by morning. Lorelai stayed home with me and would only settle when Jeremiah cuddled her to sleep. Justin come home on Saturday. Both he and Lorelai continued to progressively get worse. Their little lungs and bodies trying to cough was quite hard to watch helplessly. Made me realise why whooping cough is so lethal for babies.


She only settled with Jeremiah.

My heart melts

The hospital kept Justin’s bed open overnight in case we had to come back. We monitored him and Lorelai closely at home. They both seemed to be working harder than usual to breathe. The hospital called us on Sunday to ask how Justin was and how Lorelai was too. We had already been talking about if we should take them to emergency or not. How do you know if it is bad enough to go? We don’t want to be presenting to emergency every time they get sick. Sometimes what we might think is bad actually isn’t… but what if we miss something and then should have taken them in? Anyway, the hospital said to us to bring them both in because they wanted to check them over before a doctor went home.

So we packed up a few things and drove both twins and Jeremiah to the hospital. They did their obs and very quickly Justin was placed on oxygen. His little body was working so hard and his levels weren’t great. He was on oxygen for a few days.

Justin was so sick and so miserable. Took ages for him to finally sleep.

While I was feeding Lorelai as a nurse fed Justin and Jeremiah played, I raised my concerns about Lorelai. And while feeding her she did a projectile vomit, out the nose too. The nurse said to talk about these concerns with the paediatrician in the morning because he is really thorough and will investigate it if he thinks she needs it.

When the paediatrician did the rounds in the morning, he listened carefully to our concerns. He got in touch with the speech pathologist Lorelai was due to see later in the week and the appointment was quickly upgraded to an X-ray feed where they watch where the milk goes using an x-ray machine.

So if you’re having any issues with feeds or anything else. Seek answers. Push. Find the right person who will advocate for your little human. The issues we were having include but aren’t limited to; gagging, spews, coughing, slow feeds, long time to attach or coming off, watering eyes, arching back, crying in pain after feeds, and some other things I can’t remember now.

We had that x-ray ultrasound the next day, there’s usually months long waitlists. I realised they also thought my concerns were valid as the 6 people behind the special x-ray machine shield talked and the specialist standing with me told me a little about what they were saying about her swallowing so I could watch the screen and understand what I was seeing too. The X-ray showed some abnormalities with the feeding. Lorelai was aspirating when she was drinking. What that means is that as she was drinking, some of the milk was going down into her airways, and thankfully coming back up. The risk was/is that as she tires during a feed, milk will go into her lungs, and potentially she will get very sick, things like pneumonia. So I’ll explain what this means now for her and us in a minute…

Lorelai in the machine.

So we drove from the bigger hospital back down to our hospital, back to where Justin was. He is a ladies man, all the nurses had enjoyed their cuddles with him – I don’t think he had missed us one bit.

On the same morning of the video x-ray swallow study, a specialist ophthalmologist called in a favour to our paediatrician to come visit Lorelai to assess her eyes. As I said above, I had noticed something a bit ‘different’ with them but didn’t know how to describe it properly. There was this almost rim around her eyes that seemed translucent. And when I tried to do tracking things with her, she just didn’t seem to follow. It was as if she was looking through me, not at me. I had concerns that she was vision impaired. I wondered if I was reading too much into it, but my gut said something wasn’t 100% here. Her eyes would move back and forth, plus she would squint or close her eyes in bright areas like outside.

You can just see the rim around her eyes.

The specialist brought out his special equipment and really checkout out our little girl’s eyes. And unfortunately, our concerns were substantiated. He confirmed that our little girl is legally blind. He said she has some vision because there is some pigmentation there but there isn’t much. The one thing I had hoped was that she would be able to drive, and this is now no longer an option for her. This final step in her diagnosis confirmed that our little girl has Oculocutaneous Albinism (OCA). OCA is a rare inherited disorder (although I like to think it is a beautiful condition reserved for a few special people rather than a disorder – it is estimated only 1,500 people have albinism in all of Australia). OCA is characterised by a reduction or complete lack of melanin pigment in the skin, hair and eyes. It is caused by mutations in specific genes that are needed for the production of melanin pigment in cells called melanocytes. This results in abnormal development of the eyes resulting in vision abnormalities. OCA comes from both parents being carriers of the genes. Lorelai also has nystagmus which is involuntary side to side eye movement and photophobia which is sensitivity to light. She has foveal hypoplasia which affects visual acuity and mis-routing of the optic nerves. The light skin is susceptible to skin damage and skin cancers. There are seven types of OCA and we are awaiting results from genetic testing to learn which particular one she has. Only time will tell how severe her eyes sight is.

Lorelai also had a brain and renal ultrasound which came back normal however the paediatrician still wanted to have a brain MRI done. That was scheduled quite urgently and we managed to get that done. It was so hard to do because they have to lie still but we couldn’t have her sedated this young. Took a lot of patience and the staff at the mri place were amazing, particularly the male in charge of it all. He was incredibly patient and helped us get Lorelai in calmly after a few attempts. Thankfully they got most images they needed and all came back clear.

Lorelai also had her first blood test attempts. Twice they tried and couldn’t get enough blood. Oh it was horrible to hear her quiet, horsey cry and screams. She recovered so quickly though – what a brave girl we have.

Getting her first blood test (attempt anyway)

So in a bit of a summary (if you’ve read this far), beautiful Miss Lorelai has a few areas of special/additional needs. These are, feeding, OCA particularly vision, Low muscle tone and her immune system issues.


For now and for the forceable future, Lorelai has a very strict limited amount by mouth of either thickened breastmilk or thickened formula which will hopefully increase over time if she improves. She has a strict timeframe to drink it and what isn’t drunk in that window has to be stopped and discarded (to reduce her fatiguing and then therefore aspirating as she tires). The rest of her milk quota is done through a nasal gastric tube (NG tube). This is a tube through the nose and down into her tummy. It has to be changed at least once a week by a hospital visit (45 minutes each way). So far this has been more frequent than weekly as the tube tends to come out a bit, or the size was too big, she was having trouble breathing, etc. So we are becoming regulars at the hospital – not something I ever imagined for our family.

If she’s having a feeding tube we may as well have it in style thanks to a little company called A Simple Patch. So cool hey!

Meal prep for 4 feeds for each twin.

I think she is trying to see something during her tube feed.

We also have to be very strict with her feeding position. She has to be in an L-shape with her head raised, bum to my tummy. This also reduces the aspiration risk. When doing the gravity NG tube feed she has to be head raised and often wants to be held. We encourage her to take the dummy to try and develop her suck during the feed. The feed for her takes around 30 minutes to an hour from start to finish. It takes around an hour to prepare all of the various things needed for four feeds for Lorelai. And then the steralising afterwards too. I have learned so much about alternative feeding since having our gorgeous girl. The hardest thing to learn to do was testing her stomach acid prior to feeding. It isn’t fun drawing up liquid from my little girl’s tummy, but we have to do this to make sure the tube is in her tummy and not her lungs for each feed. It is particularly challenging feeding two screaming babies. I have to pick one and feed then feed the other – different to how I had planned to feed twins which was both at the same time.

We also have to monitor her vomiting. She vomits so much and so easily. She has a very strong gag reflex. If anything enters her mouth she gags and spews. This can also dislodge the NG tube meaning more hospital visits.

OCA and Vision:

“OCA is inherited as an autosomal recessive genetic condition. Recessive genetic disorders occur when an individual inherits an abnormal gene for the same trait from each parent. If an individual receives one normal gene and one gene for the disease, the person will be a carrier for the disease, but usually will not show symptoms. The risk for two carrier parents to both pass the defective gene and, therefore, have an affected child is 25% with each pregnancy. The risk to have a child who is a carrier like the parents is 50% with each pregnancy. The chance for a child to receive normal genes from both parents and be genetically normal for that particular trait is 25%. The risk is the same for males and females.” https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/oculocutaneous-albinism/

It was a lot to take in when she was officially diagnosed/labelled OCA. And my way of coping is to crack a few jokes. So I awkwardly cracked a bunch of vision jokes with the specialists, saying “I guess we will keep an eye on her then…” there was awkward silence from them so I followed it up with a cracker, “See what I did there?!” Over time our paediatrician has gotten to know my sense of humour. I’ve even managed to get him to crack a few jokes (he reminds me of Dr House from that TV series with his dry/dd humour, yet comprehensive approach).

I just remember thinking in my head, as it felt like it was exploding and in a different dimension where this wasn’t happening to our little girl, but my heart was feeling like God had let us down. It was the one thing I didn’t want for my girl. I have always, always yearned for a girl. To have a mother daughter relationship. When I found out one baby was a girl I was over the moon happy. And to find out that my girl, my dream, has such complex issues broke my heart a bit. Not because I think she is defective, she’s only sheer perfection to me fyi. More because I know she has lifelong challenges ahead of her. Over the last 2 weeks I have felt like God has been reminding me that He hasn’t let us or her down. He has given us such wonderful blessings. And I am reminded back to my days as a young, naïve, yet optimistic and dream-believer teenager, that I wrote down in my diary something along the lines of “my hands will be used to touch/help thousands of others.” That was my goal for my life back then. I just wanted to help others. I didn’t know how at the time. But through our IVF journey, our miscarriages and then our beautiful miracle Jeremiah, and now the twins, God has done exactly that. He has used my hands (through the blogs) to help thousands (and I don’t at all mean that in a self-gratifying way, it’s quite the opposite – God has used our story and our lives to do far more than we could have ever done to help others if we’d have had an easy life). I’ve had so many people contact me about our IVF journey and miscarriages that I have been able to give some help/support/hope to. So there was so much purpose in our heartache. And now this. Perhaps through this we will help others as so many have already helped me as I have been on my quest to understand what this all means. Thank you if that is you – you all know who you are.


Our paediatrician is still investigating Lorelai and running a range of tests for an immune condition. He seems to think that she may have an immunodeficiency/ autoimmune compromised disorder. And what this means for now is that she can’t have any of the live vaccinations and nor can Justin because there is evidence to support that people with these immunes that are compromised may pick up the thing that the vaccination is trying to prevent them from getting (because it is a live vaccination). I don’t want to start a vaccination debate here – this really isn’t the time or place for it so please don’t even start – any comments will be deleted). So both her and Justin will have to rely on herd immunity to not get sick. It also means that any fevers around 38 will require hospital for her (with Jeremiah we just watch and observe and don’t get too concerned until it reaches around 40 degrees). It also means she will probably get sick more frequently and we really need to protect her by making sure no one comes into contact with her (or us) if they are sick – this is so so so important and also very hard to enforce. We have to be so very careful with her because she is prone to being sick and her little body isn’t strong enough to fight hard.

Going for her brain ultrasound.

Going for their ultrasounds – Justin was still on oxygen.

Turns out twins really do have a special bond.

After the video x-ray learning the new feeding position for bottles.

Probably doesn’t need a caption, but I love the rawness of this photo.

Rocking the tube!

Low muscle Tone:

She has low muscle tone which means she is seeing an occupational therapist (OT) and a physiotherapist to help her improve this. Our paediatrician seems to think everything above is all linked and he is trying to get to the bottom of it all – he said we should expect another diagnosis in addition to the OCA.

So trust your gut ladies and gentlemen. If you’re not being heard, insist. Seek information elsewhere. If I hadn’t seen the post another lady made and if another speech pathologist hadn’t told her she needs to see one then I wouldn’t have asked for a referral and we’d have possibly unintentionally endangered our little girl’s life. And if the paediatrician who first saw us on entry at the hospital when Justin was sick was the only one we saw, Lorelai still would be undiagnosed. I’m forever grateful that God brought us to the hospital when we went, for the nurses that wrote in the notes my concerns so that the right paediatrician for us could see us. He is brilliant and we are so thankful. Of course, I don’t want these labels for our daughter, but living in denial doesn’t change anything. That would just prolong the help and early intervention that Lorelai needs. Yes, this is so exhausting. Of course, having kids is exhausting. But having a beautiful older son with complex additional needs and now newborn twins, with many additional needs (Justin was easier but he is having terrible feeding issues too now and is also being seen by the speech pathologist, OT and physio) has really drained us in so many ways. Mentally, physically and financially. Did I mention I re-fractured my back in two more places a week and a bit before we were admitted to the hospital? The almost 2 week stay on pull out beds definitely didn’t help my back.

Our request is prayers for Lorelai and for her future. God is a God of healing. We pray that he restores Lorelai’s vision – that would be such a miracle, but if not, that she has better vision than predicted. That she develops well (they are saying she will be behind on all of her milestones due to many reasons E.g. her low muscle tone). They are trying to find what else is the cause/diagnosis.

We are still dealing with this as best that we can. Knowing our little girl is vision impaired leaves many questions unanswered. Will I be able to return to work or will I have to be a carer full time? Financially how will we provide for our children but particularly her and her needs? How will we make our living environment set up for a vision impaired child? So many questions but we know God holds the answers and will lead us through. We decided to once again share openly because when we are open, we can help those walking a similar path with their family or their own lives. When we keep it to ourselves, we limit the potential for greater good that can come from our own mountains that we need to climb.

To teach Jeremiah not to pull out Lorelai’s tube (he wants to help her not ‘hurt’), we got him a doll and attached a tube. He took it to daycare to show his friends.

Lorelai Grace Merle – my Nanna would be so proud of your resilience. 

I remember driving back to the hospital after having a night at home so that I could be with Zazu (she is on her last innings, she’s almost 16 and isn’t doing so well). While I was driving back I felt a flood of emotions. I had kept it all together quite well until then. But then I was suddenly on my own. I began listening to the CD in the car cd player. It was Finding Faith. The first track played and it hit me to the core. God used those words to remind me of His good hands. He’s got this. That He could heal Lorelai if He wanted to, restore her vision. But if He doesn’t, that’s okay, God will carry us when needed and that everything will be okay. These are part of the lyrics:

Cause the hands that hold the world hold my heart
And the hands that heal the world heal my heart
There’s never been a heart that you can’t change
There’s never been a life that you can’t save
Cause the hands that hold it all are good hands

When I feel the weight crushing down on me
I know I’ll be okay, God will carry me


I actually ended up sending a message of thanks to Finding Faith for sharing their music with us all. It made a huge impact on my perspective. And I was sent back some very encouraging words particularly around vision impairment. And if you’re reading this – thank you so much Tim. Those words truly uplifted my heart.

The week and a half or so back home have been every bit exhausting. Functioning on little to no sleep and having screaming crying babies sure does mess with the mental health. Trying to stay on top of feeds and preparation is stressful. I always need to stay at least one step ahead or everything crumbles in screaming sirens of two babies. Yes, definitely double the blessing, and would be exhausting anyway if they were ‘regular’ babies, but with the additional needs of Jeremiah and now also these beautiful twins, it’s harder than I can place in words. We have been stretched more than we thought possible. The complexity of feeding Lorelai is quite consuming. And over the last week Justin has developed complications with feeding too.

But by faith I know, we will get through this and God will use all of this to bring good. He already has. And what I am learning will help me continue to help/support others. Having Jeremiah with all of his additional needs has helped me learn more and I think has (hopefully) made me a more compassionate person. I’m sure Lorelai will teach me that sight isn’t everything. That the world is a beautiful place even if you can’t see it all. I am reminded of Louis Armstrong’s famous song, what a wonderful world.


If only parenting twins was always this ‘cute’

Hopefully by sharing our journey with you, you might understand more about Albinism and perhaps this might just help another person, or at the very least, this might help our little girl navigate the world with a community of support and love surrounding her. We don’t want our little girl to be ‘different’ or looked at as ‘disabled’ but rather that those around her will see her abilities and strengths and love those. She will have two gorgeous brothers either side of her to love and protect her, as brothers do. And in case you’re wondering, no I don’t think God caused this. I believe that God will use this, yes. That God made her perfect as she is, yes. But I don’t believe he causes any type of hurt or heartache, but He can bring good things from all situations and we choose to believe that in all things He works for the good, and so He does for our little girl, too.

*Please note, I have learned a lot about Albinism. Calling someone an ‘albino’ is considered derogatory and degrading. It is more acceptable to say ‘someone with albinism’ or ‘….. has albinism.’ Back in the hospital I had no idea about the term albinism, I had only ever heard the term albino. Hopefully this educates others too. 😊

Our miracles, all three of them.

Proud big brother.

If in doubt, call and find out

Last night was a bit more eventful that I’d like. 😂 Yesterday at swimming Jeremiah’s teacher dropped him in the water (without any flotation devices) and then lost him under the floating mat for a few seconds (it’s just one of those freak accidents, she didn’t mean any harm). When he came up he was soooo silent and a bit in shock I think. I thought nothing more of it health wise because he was breathing.

Later on that day, around 4pm he became so sleepy and his health deteriorated pretty fast around 8-9pm. He’d been irritable all day too and unable to sleep more than 20 minutes at a time. His breathing was rapid and laboured. His temperature was 41 degrees and panadol wasn’t bringing it down either. Something just didn’t feel right.

I was trying not to overanalyse things and just be there for him… as I sat on my phone googling “when to take a toddler to hospital.” 😂 because, you know, you don’t want to be ‘that’ mum that take the kid to the hospital unnecessarily. And I didn’t want Scott to think I was worried about our son unnecessarily, too.

Meanwhile, Scott was doing his own search with some friends who had linked the swimming incident to his current symptoms causing us some concern.

So we called the hospital paediatric unit to seek advice. They said he needed to be assessed for something called ‘dry drowning’ – where a kid has inhaled the water when going under water. As the incident earlier had been Jeremiah’s first time probably under water and then had stayed under longer than he should have, there was a risk that he may have fluid in his lungs.

So off we went to emergency. It was a half hour drive away and usually Jeremiah falls asleep in the car especially at night. He didn’t fall asleep on the way there and continued to have laboured breathing.

When we got there they saw us pretty fast. He was checked out and his oxygen levels had dropped to 90% (apparently they should be at 95%) and his heart rate was 184. He also had a wheeze in his chest.

So they admitted us to the paediatric observation area. My usually active toddler just lay there, so still, working hard to breathe. They gave more panadol and monitored him. His breathing and heart took another almost 2 hours to start to improve. And thankfully they did.

The doctor in charge said she was happy with him improving so we could go home and keep and eye on him as he would hopefully continue to improve. She said to bring him back straight away if he deteriorates like he was when we came in.

So we came home and his temperature went back up so on to nurophen it was. 😔 anything by mouth is so hard to get in without a vomit, thanks to his long hospital stay earlier this year when he had his operation – he learnt then how to vomit up any medication. He woke up every two hours or so overnight. Poor thing. (And we feel like crap today too 😉)

But the great news is he seems a lot better today. His breathing is so much better.

We were unsure if we should take him in or not. That laboured breathing is what made us take him in and I’m so glad we did. The nurses and doctors were absolutely fantastic. They explained everything so well. And they confirmed that he definitely needed to be seen with his heart and oxygen the way it was.

If in doubt, call and find out. These things always seem to happen when there isn’t a doctor open to go and see. And if you’re anything like us, we don’t want to clog up the hospital emergency rooms, risk exposure to other bugs or take Jeremiah out in the cold (it was6 degrees) unless it’s absolutely needed. I’m so thankful for the hospital and the way they handled everything.

Here’s a video of him breathing in the emergency waiting room before we were seen:

‘That Mum’ with ‘That Kid’

The room is packed full of adults, mostly mums. Their children are all quiet and sitting without making so much as a boo!

Rolling on the floor, legs in the air and giggling happily to himself…  I find myself gazing down at the most important part of my life, my 18 month old toddler… who doesn’t seem to notice that we are at a special event that requires us to be quiet and stay in our seats. Try not to feel embarrassed and just let him be, I think to myself. But then he stands up, looks back at me with that cheeky smile that I adore – except not right now because it means he’s ready to run the opposite direction, down the aisle towards the stage, where there is currently a speaker giving their talk to an audience of writers – who may be right now writing about my little show stealer.

Oh no, please no, just come back to mum and sit in my lap, please, I plead with him in my head… Off he goes, so I make a quick move to pick him up, and as I do he throws his hands up above his head and slips through my hands as he half-cries and half-giggles. I manage to somehow hold my slippery 14 kilo toddler as he tries to wriggle out of my arms, and we make it back to our seats. I bring out the strawberries that I prepared for him this morning, nicely cut into safe to chew quarters. See, I do have it together for my kid, just not here at this gathering. He sits down and begins eating the strawberries. Hooray! Maybe we will make it to the end of this quiet time without any more attention on us.

I listen to the speaker and laugh at their jokes, as I look down at my son who is happily eating his strawberries. I notice him drop one onto the carpet. Oh no, please don’t eat that! I think in my head and hope he won’t be able to grab it before I can give him another strawberry piece and remove that germ city piece. As I reach down, trying to remain calm cool and collected, he picks up that piece. That wet, germ infested, bacteria party of a piece of strawberry and he quickly shoves it in his mouth before I can even attempt to take it. Toddler – 1, mum – 0. The lady sitting beside me must have noticed. I could attempt to say that this isn’t typical, but it is… my son can’t count yet, so the three second rule is an infinity rule. He sees something he wants to eat, and well, he eats it. But the meals that I have spent ages working on preparing, making sure they are nutritional, able to be picked up by him, easily eaten, often get thrown to the dogs as he giggles away, or they get mushed into his curly blonde hair where they become dreadlocks for me to attempt to get out at bath time.

The toddler year…or years. How long is a child a toddler for anyway? Lesson learned today. If I am ever invited out in public again, either take a friend who can help with my gorgeous little boy, or don’t go.

That was just the beginning of a very long few hours that I had envisioned to be a really fun day out for the two of us. He proceeded to become a screaming, crying, jellyfish of a toddler at any attempt to keep him contained or quiet. I took him over to the play area that I thought would be great… right up the very front of the audience, to the immediate right of the stage. There I sat with him as he played, and became fascinated with one of the speaker’s children, until she left the play area. When another older girl entered the play are, I thought things would be better because my boy was a lot smaller than her. When he tried to climb up the baby slide, she grabbed his head and pushed him. My mummy instinct wanted to tell her to stop, I refrained. But then she did it again and my boy went flying down to the ground. That’s enough, I thought, and picked up my boy to return to our seats. Remember we are at the front of the entire audience. As I pick up my boy, he becomes a jellyfish with Aerosmith’s loud voice. Don’t look up, don’t make eye contact with anyone, I thought as I made the long walk back to my seat. I had become ‘that mum’ with ‘that kid’ throwing ‘that tantrum’ in public. As I sat down I found the almost dry snot in my hair, probably from my earlier struggle with the jellyfish, and the strawberry hand stains on my shirt. I have to giggle to myself, right as my son is off again…

That’s motherhood right there isn’t it? I’m not complaining, no way. I waited far too long for this miracle in my life to complain. But I am telling it like it is. In those 7 years waiting for this blessing, I knew that motherhood would be no walk in the park, but what I didn’t realise was that it would be a hike in the terrain as you get drenched in anything and everything (including, snot, spew, and anything else you can think of), without hardly any sleep and while onlookers judge your every move. I didn’t realise how much other mums judge mums. I guess we are all guilty of it at some point, but it just never dawned on me just how much mums judge mums. I also didn’t realise that some babies just don’t really sleep… Sleep when the baby sleeps is one of the dumbest lines I’ve heard because how are you meant to sleep when you have a cat napper?

I’ve been so blessed to have our IVF community of the babies that were all due in November but came at their own times. Of our group of 54 mums, we never judge each other. Not once has anyone judged another. We are a sisterhood that support each other through all of life’s highs, lows, rollercoasters and everything in-between. That is what motherhood should be like… sisters joining together to support and not pass judgment.

Anyway, the day was rather disappointing. Other writers were walking around loaded up with freebies and bags that the stall holders were giving out, but each one I went to seemed to have run out early. Yes, we arrived later than I had planned because it was so hard trying to leave the house without looking like a scene from a horror movie; trying to do anything to make myself half-okay was near impossible with a toddler that was in to everything and then tantruming if I left his side for a minute.

I left the brunch a bit deflated, travelling all that way (one and a half hours each way), feeling so stressed trying to take care of my world (aka my toddler) who was just being rather interesting (aka difficult) today and then missing out on the freebies that had lured us there to begin with just made the day feel long and hard.

As I walked around the beautiful location of the event, and attempted to talk to stall holders, my little adventurous child was on the look-out for food and other things he could taste test. Next stop was the food table. He devoured watermelon. That juicy watermelon smelt so delicious. No, I didn’t get to taste it because I was juggling a toddler and a waterfall of watermelon juice that was saturating his hand-me-down special light-coloured collar shirt that was now pale pink. And while juggling him, I could feel my own shirt and pants turning a beautiful watermelon shade of wet pink. His designer qualities are already coming out as he redesigns our clothing colours.

My curious boy enjoyed the attention of onlookers as he tipped out the natural play area toys. He loved those toys, and then he saw the clear plastic cover for the earth natural storage box. Before I could get close enough, he had it up and pressed against his face making a blowfish as he began to run. The educators were giggling away and he was smiling that cheeky smile. I do wish I had photos of this as it was pretty hilarious. An 18 month old stealing the attention of so many – he really is adorable. Just picture that and then picture me chasing him to attempt to stop him falling over and injuring himself.

Time to go, after the prize draws had all been drawn, of which we were not chosen because, really our last name should be Murphey (Murphey’s Law). On our way to the car, he saw the children’s park. So we made a stop there for him to run out all of that energy that I wish I had even a quarter of. I was so proud of my boy. He went down the slide – this is something that seems to scare him. And then he wanted more. He kept signing “more” with his hands.

After a while it was time to head home and try beat the peak traffic… hmmmm, to top off our rather full-on day out, we sat in peak traffic coming home. See, I really should have been called Murphey. As soon as we got home, as my world (aka my son) had already had a sleep in the car so he was ready to be his usual happy self again. We ran around the yard together, pretending to hide from the dogs and then chasing the dogs, watching the kangaroos and the cows, then seeing the chooks. The afternoon was bliss. Motherhood that I had imagined.

That’s the reality of motherhood. There are days, moments, times when things feel so hard, stressful, draining, exhausting, overwhelming, and then there are these beautiful silver lining moments on these days to remind us just how wonderful motherhood is, and to remind us that perhaps we aren’t crap mums with uncontrollable toddlers. We are mums, doing the best we can to love, to nurture and to support our children as they grow and develop in a safe and secure way.

Oh that laugh, as I chased him and as he chased, me echoes in my head now as I share a snippet of our lives with you. As I sit here smiling, I can’t help but think that I am the luckiest person in the world. I get to be his mother. We get to do life together. That right there is the most wonderful thought and blessing.

I think of the 6 babies that went straight to heaven before we could hold them. I wonder if any of them would have had his personality or how would today have gone down with any of them? Would I have even dared to venture out on my own? I don’t know. I think of my many friends on their own infertility path, yearning for a child. Some days I miss that ability to go to sleep and have a full night of sleep. But I wouldn’t trade any of this for anything. My world, my boy, is… well, he’s everything to me. And I guess I’m doing an okay job, he’s happy, he’s alive and he’s so loved.