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Caring for a child who is unwell, struggling at school, emotionally withdrawn, or navigating learning difficulties—it’s not a path anyone maps out in advance. But when you find yourself on it, it touches everything. It reshapes routines, rewires your days, and settles into the quiet corners of life where worry now lives.

It’s not just about managing symptoms or support plans. It’s the ache of watching your child feel different, or left behind, or misunderstood. It’s wondering how to explain—for the third time this term—why they’re missing another day of school, or why their homework’s late again, or why they’ve stopped wanting to go to birthday parties.

And always, there’s the admin. The endless admin.

Assessments to chase. Paediatricians to book. The scans and bloods that need scheduling, then rescheduling. Emails to teachers. Notes from specialists that you try to interpret late at night while the rest of the world sleeps. 

The scripts that need renewing.  The appointments you wait months for. The school meetings. The follow-ups. The “just checking in” emails. The family group chat updates. The tracking of symptoms. The questioning of yourself.

Constantly checking in—with the school, your child, your partner, your own exhausted self.

Mental maths at all hours: Did they take their medication? Did I forget that form? Is this a new symptom or just tiredness? Are they okay—or just pretending to be?

People say you’re strong. They marvel at your calm. But they don’t always see the cracks. Because some days, you’re anything but strong. Some days, you’re barely staying upright.

Some days, it’s just… hard.

And that’s okay.

Because love doesn’t always look like confidence. Sometimes it looks like showing up with trembling hands. Sometimes it’s putting one foot in front of the other while carrying a heart full of uncertainty. Sometimes, love is the quiet choice to keep going—even when no one sees how heavy it’s become.

If you’re in this season, know this: you are not alone. The hard is real. But so is your strength. And though it might not feel like it, what you're doing every single day—for your child, your family, yourself—matters deeply.

Even on the hardest days—you are doing more than enough.