Today marks a year since everything changed.

A year ago, I was rushed to A&E with suspected rupturing gallstones. At the time, I thought it would be a quick fix — some tests, maybe some medication, and back to life as normal. Instead, that moment marked the beginning of one of the hardest chapters I’ve ever faced.

I ended up being off work for almost seven months. Four of those months were spent waiting — waiting for surgery, answers, and some sense of control to return. When the surgery finally happened, I thought the worst was over. But just three days later, I developed sepsis and there were no beds available in my local hospital. It was frightening, painful, and deeply overwhelming. I spent weeks having to go in daily, having emergency procedures, tests, dressing changes – you name it, I had it. Recovery from that alone initially took three months and is still ongoing — physically, emotionally, and mentally.

But throughout it all, I had to try and keep going — because I’m a mum.

My daughter was just three at the time. She didn’t understand waiting lists or post-op pain. She didn’t know what sepsis was or why mummy needed to rest so much. All she knew was that she still needed her cuddles, her bedtime stories, her routine, and her safe space.

Trying to show up for her while managing my own health was one of the most emotionally complex things I’ve ever done. There were moments I felt like I was failing both of us — when I couldn’t lift her, play like we used to, or even get out of bed without help. And yet, I found a strength I didn’t know I had. I learned how to be present in different ways. How to create calm even when I was overwhelmed. How to ask for help, and accept it without guilt.

I’ve also had to learn how to prioritise myself — not an easy thing for any parent, let alone one in recovery. Some days, self-care looks like gentle movement or prepping a nourishing meal. Other days, it’s giving myself permission to do the bare minimum without shame.

Turning 40 was meant to be a fresh start. I had plans to get healthy, feel strong, and reconnect with myself. And while the path hasn’t looked how I expected, I’m slowly stepping back into that plan — with more compassion, more gratitude, and a greater understanding of what health truly means.

I’m walking more. Eating to nourish, not punish. Prioritising sleep and stress management. And above all, I’m choosing to rebuild on my own terms, slowly and sustainably.

This year has reminded me that even in the darkest moments, we can find our way forward. Maybe not in leaps and bounds, but in small, steady steps that carry us toward something better.

If you’re going through something similar, I see you. You’re not alone. You’re stronger than you think. And if you’re doing all this while parenting? You’re doing more than enough.

Here’s to healing, to growth, and to never taking a good day for granted.

— Gemma