Breathe to Bloom

What if the parts of yourself you judge the most aren’t actually the problem?

Shadow work is about becoming curious about the parts of ourselves we’ve learned to hide, suppress or label as “bad.”

The overthinking.
The need for control.
The people pleasing.
The perfectionism.
The big emotions.
The guilt when you rest.
The part of you that always feels like you should be doing more.

Our shadow isn’t necessarily something we need to get rid of. Often, these patterns developed because at some point, they helped us feel safe, accepted or prepared.

And underneath them, there can be strengths.

My overthinking can also be my ability to notice the little things.
My need to plan can become leadership and preparation.
My sensitivity means I care deeply.
My high standards can fuel incredible growth.
My difficult experiences can become purpose.

Shadow work isn’t about fixing yourself. It’s about understanding yourself.

Instead of asking, “Why am I like this?” try asking:

“What is this part of me trying to protect and what does it need from me now?”

Sometimes the parts we try hardest to hide are the exact parts waiting to be understood. 🤍

3 DAYS. That’s it.

In three days, RECLAIM 30 begins.

30 days of choosing yourself again.
30 days of creating small habits that actually fit into real life.
30 days of reconnecting with the woman underneath the exhaustion, responsibilities and constant giving.

This isn’t about becoming a whole new person.

She’s already in there. We’re going to find her again.

For 30 days, you’ll receive daily challenges, evening journal prompts, weekly breathwork challenges and a private community of women doing it alongside you.

And the best part?

It’s completely FREE.

We start October 1st.

You don’t need to have it all together.
You just need to decide you’re ready to start choosing YOU. 🤍

Come reclaim yourself with us.

https://www.jotform.com/262566363798070

Last week, we got news we’ve fought so hard for.

Both of our girls were offered places in a specialised preschool program.

A classroom of just six children.
Our girls will be two of them.

I should have felt nothing but relief.

Instead, my mind went straight to:

Why our girls?
Do they really need it enough?
Do they deserve those places?

That’s the part of medical parenting people don’t always see.

You fight so hard for your children to be seen… and when they finally are, you question whether their struggles are “enough”.

But they were observed.
Their therapists advocated for them.
Their needs were seen.

They deserve this support.

And I’m trying to let myself hold two truths:

I am so grateful they have this opportunity.

And I wish they never needed it in the first place. 🤍

She's in there. The woman who feels light, who trusts herself, who isn't running on empty. She's in there and this is how we go find her.

Reclaim 30 is back. Thirty days, completely free, starting the 1st of October.

What's included:

• Daily challenges
• Weekly breathwork
• Evening journal prompts
• Private community

You don't need to have it figured out to start. You just need to be willing to show up for yourself for thirty days.

Registration is open now, link in the comments below

Reclaim 30 Registration Please click the link to complete this form.

Before the diagnoses. Before the school runs and the specialist appointments and the medical words you never asked to learn.

There was just you.

She is still in there. Not lost, not gone. Just buried under everything you carry for everyone else.

Come back to her. Even for five minutes.

Your child's blood pressure is too low. We need to place an IV for bloods and fluids.

That was the first thing they said to me.

Then came the words that took the ground out from under me completely.

She isn't stable enough to go to a ward. We need to stabilise her first.

Then the heart.

Something is wrong with your child's heart. It's beating irregularly, and too slow.

We need to do a CTG. This was 2am..

I want to sit with that first one for a second, because it's the one that started it all. Blood pressure too low. An IV, for bloods and fluids. Said so plainly, so clinically, while my daughter lay there and my whole world tilted sideways.

Then being told she wasn't even stable enough to move to a ward yet. That's the sentence that stays with you. The one that tells you, without saying it outright, that this is serious.

Then the heart. Irregular. Too slow. A test booked in for 2am, because some things can't wait for morning.

I sat in that room and did what I always do. Nodded. Asked the practical questions. Kept my voice even. And somewhere underneath all of that, a different part of me was falling apart in slow motion.

Hazel is stable now. She's okay. But this week asked something of me that I'm still catching my breath from, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

This is what doesn't make it into most of what I post. The blood pressure numbers. Being told she wasn't stable enough. The 2am tests. The holding it together on the outside while everything inside you is somewhere else entirely.

If you've had your own version of this, your own words that changed the shape of a night, I see you. I'm not going to tell you to breathe your way through it, because some things you just have to get through. And then, slowly, find your way back to yourself.

We're on the other side of the worst of it now. Grateful, and still a little breathless

To the mum who is tired in her bones.

Not the cute tired. Not the “I need a coffee” tired. The kind that sits in your shoulders and doesn’t leave even after a full night’s sleep, if you even got one.

The washing can wait.

You’ve been up in the night. You’ve packed lunches on autopilot. You’ve said “just a minute” for the tenth time today because there is always one more thing.

Some weekends you plan everything. This weekend, put something down. Just one thing. Let the basket sit. Let the dishes wait an hour. Let someone else figure out dinner tonight.

You don’t have to earn rest. You are allowed to be tired and still worthy of a slow morning.

Not the mum. Not the business owner. Not the one holding it all together.

Just you.

If today all you do is sit down for five minutes with a warm drink and actually taste it, that counts. That is enough.

You’re allowed to have a good weekend. Even a really good one. You are doing so much more than you think you are. I am so proud of you! ✨🌻

This photo is one I don’t share often. Hands through the portholes, holding on however I could, because holding her properly wasn’t an option most days.

NICU Awareness Month exists because most people never see what happens inside those rooms. The rows of humidicribs. The nurses who become family before you’ve even processed you’re a mother. The way a whole day can be won or lost by grams gained on a scale.

Our twins shared one NICU stay together. Our eldest had a separate NICU journey entirely, on her own, in a different admission. Two different experiences, the same fear underneath both.

If you are a NICU parent, past or present, this month is for you. For the 2am phone calls. For driving home without your baby in the car. For every quiet, exhausting day spent just trying to get to tomorrow.

And if you know a NICU family, they don’t need advice right now, they need to know they are seen.

Breathe to Bloom 💛

My world has stopped for a moment.

For those wondering why I’ve been quiet, why messages are taking longer to answer, and why Breathe to Bloom has suddenly become still…

This is why.

My beautiful little Oaklynn is currently in hospital facing a battle that came much harder and faster than we ever expected. What started as concerns after surgery quickly became days of fevers, tests, scans, procedures, a PICC line, an NG tube, IV antibiotics, chest physiotherapy, and countless moments of uncertainty.

As a mother, there is nothing that prepares you for watching your child suffer. Nothing prepares you for holding them down for procedures they don’t understand, watching them sleep in a hospital bed instead of their own, or hearing words like aspiration pneumonia and investigations while desperately wishing you could take it all away.
Right now, I need to be just one thing.

Oak’s mum.

So for now, Breathe to Bloom will be taking a pause while I sit beside this little girl and focus on getting her home where she belongs.

To everyone who has checked in, sent messages, prayed, held us in your thoughts, or simply understood my silence, thank you. You have no idea how much it means.

None of this would be possible without my incredible husband, Lee, who has been holding our family together while I stay by Oak’s side. I am endlessly grateful for his strength, love, and support during one of the hardest seasons we’ve faced.

For now, I’m taking life one hour at a time, one treatment at a time, and one breath at a time.

Please keep our little Oak in your thoughts. 🌻