May: Sun Cream, Support and Small Victories

May has been an emotional month.

Not necessarily in a dramatic way, but in the kind of way where you find yourself thinking about things more than usual. The kind of month where there have been some really lovely moments, some difficult ones, and a few lessons I wasn’t expecting to learn.

The weather has been absolutely glorious, which has meant we’ve spent a lot of time outside. The paddling pool has been out, the garden has been full of noise, and for once I’ve found myself checking where the kids are less because they’re all usually in plain sight somewhere.

The pool was a big hit.

Twin A wasn’t completely convinced at first. She spent a while deciding whether she liked it before eventually realising that with her armbands on she could simply float around and live her best life. Once she made that discovery there was no looking back.

Meanwhile, H and Twin B were far less cautious and spent most of their time splashing, jumping, and attempting various versions of swimming that may or may not have actually involved swimming.

We also went on holiday this month.

Like most family holidays, it looked better in the photos than it did in real life.

There were some lovely moments, but there were also reminders that spending every waking hour together isn’t always as magical as it sounds. By the end of the holiday, H had well and truly had enough of his sisters and was more than ready to come home.

I can’t say I completely blamed him.

One of the biggest positives this month has been Twin A starting Chatterbox.

This has been something we’ve been waiting for, and she’s doing amazingly. It’s been lovely to see her settle in so well, and we’re hopeful that speech therapy will start in July too.

It’s one of those small victories that probably doesn’t look huge from the outside, but for us it feels like a really important step forward.

The biggest lesson of this month, though, has been around support.

We now have a family support worker.

If I’m honest, when it was first suggested, I was devastated.

I cried.

I felt embarrassed.

I felt like I had somehow failed.

I think part of me believed that needing support meant I wasn’t coping well enough, or that I should somehow be able to manage everything on my own.

But over the last few weeks I’ve realised something.

The fact that we have support isn’t evidence that I failed.

It’s evidence that I was brave enough to ask for help.

That feels very different.

As parents, I think we’re often made to feel like we should be able to do everything ourselves. That asking for help means we’ve reached some sort of breaking point.

But actually, asking for help is often one of the strongest things you can do.

And if it helps our family, then that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.

Alongside all of that, my own health is still ticking away in the background.

I’m still struggling with dizziness, especially when I’m standing for too long or when I get too warm, which hasn’t exactly been ideal given how nice the weather has been. I’m still waiting for more tests and answers, so for now I’m doing what I’ve become quite good at doing, taking things one day at a time and plodding along as best I can.

May hasn’t been full of huge breakthroughs.

Instead, it’s been made up of smaller victories.

A child finding confidence in a swimming pool.

A new service finally starting.

Accepting support.

Getting through difficult days.

Realising you don’t have to carry everything on your own.

Life here is still busy, still noisy, and still wonderfully chaotic.

But this month reminded me that sometimes progress doesn’t arrive looking the way you expected it to.

Sometimes it arrives looking like support.