"Put your own life mask on before helping others".

Kings College Hospital - 2014

It’s become a bit of a cliché, but I really learnt the importance of it when we had our daughter.

I was quite young, 26, and up until then, life had been pretty even. I was very privileged to be bringing our daughter into a life of security and love.

After a difficult birth and an emergency caesarean (which I wasn’t expecting, I’d been planning the dreamy, low-intervention kind), it quickly became clear that Elara wasn’t very well. We spent the first month in hospital, trying to work out what was happening. We were pushed headfirst into the reality of being parents.

And it just didn’t stop. The complexities kept coming. She missed motor milestones, things felt harder than they should, and I remember wondering, Is this what everyone else is going through? I remember when Elara was three, asking my sister in laws, “Did your kids get easier when they turned four?”

We kept pushing. Doctors said she had some struggles but was within the “normal” range. That’s a whole separate blog post in itself. Eventually, we found out she’d had a stroke at birth. Later came the autism diagnosis.

I’ve never worked harder for anything than I have trying to get Elara the support she needs. She was given an Education, Health and Care Plan. She had one to one support in the classroom. And still, school kept getting harder.

It wasn’t Elara’s fault. She wasn’t naughty. She was in a system that was overwhelming. She started having panic attacks and outbursts at home. I won’t go into the details, but we had two years that were so, so hard.

We ended up getting a golden retriever, who we’re training as an assistance dog. It was something we could try to help with her anxiety. Some people didn’t understand. But my husband said, “When you’re drowning, if there’s anything to grab onto, anything at all, you take it.”

Our lovely Jozi

I remember hearing a statistic that said parents of children with additional needs live with the same stress levels as combat soldiers. I don’t know how well researched that is, but honestly, I believe it. You live moment to moment, trying to predict what’s coming, how to respond, how to keep everything calm. It’s constant fight or flight.

When you’re under stress, your brain activates both the limbic system and the brainstem, which is sometimes called the reptilian brain. The amygdala senses a threat and you get a flood of cortisol and adrenaline. Your heart rate goes up, your breathing speeds up, and your muscles tighten. Your brain shifts into survival mode and clear thinking becomes much harder.

So if you're stressed all the time, the part of your brain that helps you think clearly starts to shut down. If I wanted to support Elara, I needed my whole brain. I needed to manage my emotions and use the tools I had to respond to stress. If I kept trying to fix her oxygen mask without putting on my own, I was going to run out of air.

I remember one sports day. Always a hard day! Elara was in floods of tears, trying to finish her race. She was overwhelmed by the noise, the crowd, the pressure. I stood on the sidelines, avoiding conversations and hiding my tears behind sunglasses. I knew I had to find my strength. Or maybe I just needed to find my calm. I had to reset my nervous system so I could be strong for her. When she sat down, waiting for her next race, I found a quiet spot, shed a few tears, and started deep breathing. Slowing everything down. Bringing myself back.

Yoga - my life mask practice

This is what putting on your oxygen mask looks like. It’s not easy, but most days we get a small window. A moment to reset. To come back to neutral. To make ourselves stronger for the ones who need us.