Send & the City

29/07/2026

🥳 starting the summer hols the way we mean to go on 🥳
Disability bikes 🚲
Beach 🏖️
Swimming 🏊‍♂️
New home 🏠
Happy rooms 🚥
Van Gogh immersive experience 👩‍🎨👨‍🎨
M**s happy birthday! 🥳

with my Walt!! 🤍🩷🥰

27/07/2026

Number 9 ❤️

For once… I genuinely don’t know where to start.

Which, if you know me, is a miracle in itself.

So I’ll start with the most important bit… the thank yous.

Mam & Dad.

This last year has been absolute chaos. Hellish at times, if I’m honest. You’ve been my rock when I’ve needed you most, and I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.

Not only did you help me get back on my feet when life was turned completely upside down, you somehow survived renovating the Beamish house with me…

I genuinely thought we were going to kill each other at least three times. 😅

When we found Oxo cubes that belonged in a museum, enough ancient screws to build the Tyne Bridge, and approximately 47 light bulbs in one drawer, I started to think we’d never actually reach moving day.

Then along came Adam and Paul.

Or, as they’ve probably come to know themselves… therapists with toolboxes.

I honestly don’t think we’d have seen the light at the end of the tunnel if Adam hadn’t constantly kept us right. We have absolutely tortured the poor man with my Pinterest dreams, last-minute ideas and “just one more thing…” moments.

Adam… I am forever in your debt. (Although I’m fairly certain you’ll never answer my phone calls again. 😅)

To all our friends and family who’ve checked in every week asking, “Have you moved in yet?” only for me to reply…

“Adam said another 8 weeks…”

…for what felt like seventeen consecutive eight-week periods…

Thank you.

For the messages, the laughs, the encouragement and just reminding me people cared. I appreciated every single one more than you’ll ever know.

Then there’s me…

An emotional wreck.

Angry.

Anxious.

Ill.

Highly medicated.

Running almost entirely on caffeine, stubbornness and blind optimism.

As you all know…

I didn’t choose this.

I didn’t choose to raise Walt on my own.

I didn’t stand in front of everyone I love, say my vows and imagine this is how life would turn out.

I didn’t want to still need my mam and dad at 36.

I didn’t expect motherhood to mean becoming a nurse, advocate, GP, autism specialist, epilepsy expert, speech interpreter, professional researcher and full-time defender of my little boy.

And I certainly never wanted to tear apart the only home Walt had ever known and ask him to trust me with somewhere completely new.

Every decision in Number 9 has been made with him in mind.

Not just Walt today…

Teenage Walt.

Adult Walt.

Future Walt.

Every doorway, every room, every little detail has been thought about a hundred times over because his future matters more than anything.

During all of this I’ve realised something.

While I sometimes feel alone… I’m actually incredibly lucky.

Because I’m not really alone.

I’ve had Mam and Dad beside me every step of the way.

Not everyone gets that.

And I will never, ever take it for granted.

Most of all…

I’m lucky to have Walt.

He gives me a reason to keep getting up every morning.

He makes me laugh every single day.

He reminds me that joy can exist even in the middle of complete chaos.

So yes… this has been hard.

It still is.

The house doesn’t quite feel like home yet.

Everything is different.

Nothing feels comfy.

With Walt, routine is everything, so right now there is approximately zero chill in Number 9.

It feels a bit like when you go on holiday and spend the whole week secretly looking forward to your own bed…

Except this time there isn’t another house to go back to.

Yesterday I honestly wanted to go back just for one afternoon so we could both have a little reset.

But…

I’ve got my big girl pants on.

Walt’s got his smile.

And together we’ll keep going.

Finally…

My incredible boy.

I honestly cannot put into words how proud I am of him.

He’s been through huge changes.

A new home.

A new routine.

A whole new world.

And somehow… he’s met almost all of it with that gorgeous smile.

It hasn’t all been easy.

There have been wobbles.

There have been moments.

But he’s trying.

And for Walt… trying is everything.

Four years ago, after a difficult stay in hospital under general anaesthetic, something changed.

He stopped feeling safe in bedrooms.

To us, a bedroom was somewhere to sleep.

To Walt, it became somewhere scary.

Somewhere that reminded him of hospital.

For a whole year I slept beside him downstairs on the sofa.

Because when your non-verbal child is trying to tell you something, you listen.

Their voice doesn’t need words. Their hand holding you tight even when fast asleep tells me all i needed to know.

Eventually my body gave up before my heart did.

My bones felt like they were turning to dust and I physically couldn’t do it anymore, so I slowly started sleeping upstairs again.

But Walt never did.

For four years he hasn’t properly slept in a bed.

So when I designed Number 9…

I designed it for him.

I gave him a bedroom built around what he needed… with a few special “Walt-erations” of course. ❤️

And last night…

For the first time in four years…

My not so little boy slept in a bed.

Properly.

Comfortably.

Peacefully.

I could have watched him all night.

I honestly don’t think he’ll ever understand what that moment meant to me.

There are so many little things like this that people never see.

Tiny victories that most families wouldn’t even think twice about.

But for us…

They’re absolutely enormous.

Will it last?

Who knows.

Tomorrow could look completely different.

Autism has taught me never to get too comfortable.

But today…

Today I’m celebrating.

Because my little boy has absolutely blown me away.

To everyone who has helped us reach this point…

Thank you.

For every message.

Every hour.

Every favour.

Every bit of encouragement.

You’ve helped build far more than a house.

You’ve helped build a home.

Love always,

Me & Walt. ❤️ xx

23/07/2026

Anyone else with a non verbal child make up conversations of what they think they’d say in their head?
No?
Just me?

Ok then. 😅🙃😜🤪

Just a Walt with another ball.

Actual real love 😅😅

22/07/2026

When the waves are funny, interesting, calming, scary and chilly all in one big sensory overload- only one thing left to do. Giggle and run 😅💙

22/07/2026

It’s been a day of lasts. ❤️

Last night in Howletch Lane.

Last morning waking up here with me and Walt.

Last sleep on the green settee.

Last cosy morning in the living room.

Last ever terrible night’s sleep in this house. 😅

Last day of Year 3.

Last day with a teacher who knows Walt inside out. Someone who knows his little ways, his PEG, his epilepsy, his allergies, his medical needs… without me having to explain.

Last day surrounded by neighbours who know us, wave to Walt, and quietly look out for him every single day.

Last day of the life we created before Walt was even a thought. The house we excitedly bought together, renovated, and filled with plans for a future that ended up looking nothing like we imagined.

In so many ways, this feels like starting over.

In September, there’ll be a new teacher who has to learn everything from scratch. The PEG. The signs that a seizure is coming. EpiPen training. How to listen to a little boy who doesn’t use words. How to earn our trust so that one day I can walk away for six hours knowing he’s safe.

And today… a new house.

Tonight is our very first night there.

I’ve been excited. I’ve cried. I’ve questioned everything.

The truth is, I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want any of this.

But we’re here.

And I know how incredibly lucky I am to have had the opportunity to create a home designed around Walt’s needs.

As I write this, though, I just have that feeling… the one you get when you leave primary school.

You’re leaving behind your friends, your routines, your safety.

You’re about to start “big school.”

Your stomach is full of nerves.

You wonder how somewhere completely unfamiliar could ever feel like home.

For the last eight years, whenever we’ve been brave enough to venture out into the world, we’ve always had somewhere safe to come back to.

The green settee.

If Walt had a meltdown… if everything became too much… I knew that if I could just get him back to that green settee, everything would be okay.

Over the years, it stopped being just Walt’s safe place.

It became mine too.

Moving house feels enormous.

I don’t know whether it’s the right decision or the wrong one.

I don’t know how long it’ll take for this new house to become home, or for Walt to find new safe spaces of his own.

Maybe days.

Maybe weeks.

Maybe longer.

It feels like the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

And if I’m honest…

I’m exhausted.

Not because Walt is “hard work.” He isn’t. Most of the time he’s an absolute gem.

It’s the constant thinking. The medical needs. The medications. The appointments. The endless guessing game of trying to understand what he wants because he’s non-verbal.

What I would give just to sit down and explain to him what’s happening today.

“Last day of school, kiddo.

I’m so proud of you.

Last day in Howletch.

But that’s okay.

We’re going on a new adventure.

Everyone who loves you is still here.

You’re safe.

There’s nothing to be scared of.”

I wish more than anything I could tell him all of that.

But then I realised…

I can tell myself exactly the same thing, and it doesn’t stop me feeling scared either.

So maybe it doesn’t need explaining.

Maybe he doesn’t need all the answers.

Maybe he just needs to know he’s loved.

That I’m right beside him.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

Everything is going to be okay. ❤️

While you’ve been brave and going to school this last year, I’ve been pretty brave too. Emptying a house, planning every little detail, knocking down walls, and generally torturing our amazing tradesmen, who have somehow managed to put up with me asking for things that are either only Pinterest-worthy 😅 or simply don’t fit. 😅

All the hard work of this past year is finally coming together. Now all that’s left is for us to take a deep breath, slow down, and enjoy the space we’ve created with you at the heart of every single decision.

One last coffee. One last cuddle. One last dash out of these doors.

We’ve got this, WG. ❤️

See ya later howletch 💔

16/07/2026

Can’t actually get over this story. It’s literally us and Walt. Me and her mam even have the same name.
💔💔💔
If anyone knows this family please tag her - feel
Like we should be friends!💔❤️

Sunderland family seek support for severely autistic daughter Elaina who needs 24 hour supervision

15/07/2026

Just a boy and his ball. ⚽️

Not the result we wanted but Walt’s had the absolute best sick day off school today.
He’s on the mend now so we decided in World Cup spirit to take him to the park with a brand new ball.

Well. Walt has since decided the ball in question will go everywhere with Walt.

It went for a kick around that was intended… then it’s been on quite the Journey…

Walt decided he wanted to take his new ball to the park,
On the swing,
The round about
The slide,
The climbing frame.

Then of course we had to go show nanna and granda our new fantastic and easy to move around ball.👀🤔

Walt even helped his nanna carry it because he’s big and strong. 💪

Of course the kid is still awake the ball is currently in his bed with him….

… Whose idea was this?

Football isn’t coming home but Walt’s ball is.

.

14/07/2026

It’s only Tuesday and we’ve had a week 😅😅

A head bump,
Elbow scrape,
Camera down,
Cough and cold,
Not a well Walt,
Antibiotics,
Missed the school trip,
And naptime in THE DAY. (Never happens)

6 days left of school for Walt - it has been a long school year Walt I agree 😅🤍

can’t wait to have 6 weeks off with my gorgeous!!! ❤️

13/07/2026

During the heatwave we had lots of fun with a watering can at nannas house. 😅😅

The boy has two pools, water guns, water balloons, bucket and spade but nope. He likes the way the water hits the table so he can rub it off.

We like what we like🤷‍♀️ while keeping cooooool.

It’s funny he normally hates being nakey but he was having the time of his life here😅

11/07/2026

News flash… it’s 2026.

In a world where people can identify however they choose, be married, single, in a thruple, asexual, childfree, have ten cats or no cats…

I genuinely did not think me going to a gig with Gav would cause such a stir.😅 earlier today I posted a video mash up of a night away with my ex husband who you all know as Gav…. And the reaction has been big 😅

Yet here we are. I’ve had about ten million messages 😅

My ears have been burning 🔥

Now, I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I really don’t. But I know there are families like ours quietly wondering if they’re “allowed” to do things differently. So for my own head I’m gonna try and explain this best I can.
So yes it’s long - read it, don’t read it, you do you. ✌️✌️

So here’s mine.

Our family isn’t normal.

It never has been.

It never will be.

And that’s okay.

You might as well ride the fu***ng wave.

⸻

Gav and I separated a year ago.

I’ve felt every emotion possible.

I’ve been angry at Gav.
Angry at life.
Angry at the universe.

I’ve been heartbroken, relieved, lonely, hopeful, peaceful, guilty and everything in between.

We’ve shouted.
We’ve cried.
We’ve hurt each other.
We’ve supported each other.

Because life isn’t black and white.

The day I brought Walt home from hospital, everything changed.

I remember saying to my best friend, “Nothing I used to care about matters anymore.”

That was before autism.

Before epilepsy.

Before allergies.

Before disability.

Before sleepless nights.

Before screaming in pain and not knowing why.

Before becoming an expert in things I never wanted to learn.

From that moment on, my whole world became keeping one little boy safe.

Maybe I took that too far.

Maybe I should’ve looked after myself more.

Maybe I should’ve protected my marriage more.

Maybe.

But when you’re thrown into a life you never imagined, you don’t get a handbook. You survive.

And I’d make exactly the same choices again. I am NOT sorry for what I chose to do in the mad moments with Walt. I fought for him and I always will.

Fact is. I wish Walt didn’t have the struggles he has and I wish I hadn’t had a stress response to him being the way he is and my body being fu**ed.
me and Gav have been through years and years of being in fight or flight. The stress level is so high. The stakes are so high. The love is so high. The grief you have for a life you thought you’d have and the guilt you have everyday for feeling that grief is all consuming.

⸻

People always say,

“Just leave him with Nana and Grandad for a week.”

A WEEK?

Firstly, I’d miss him after about fourteen minutes.

Secondly, he’d be wondering where the hell we’d disappeared to.

Thirdly, Nana and Grandad are exactly that…

Nana and Grandad.

Not free childcare because Mam and Dad fancy cocktails every weekend.

Do carers need breaks?

Absolutely.

Do we deserve them?

Abso-fu***ng-lutely.

But anyone living this life knows it’s not that simple.

It’s eight years of military-level alertness.

No sleep.

No switch off.

Always waiting for the next seizure.

The next hospital visit.

The next allergic reaction.

The next meltdown.

The next emergency.

It’s exhausting in ways I can’t explain.

⸻

Then there’s me.

I’ve battled my mental health for years.

My physical health for years.

I survive because of steroids and daily medication.

Without them, I literally wouldn’t be standing.

With them…

I’ve gained loads of weight.

My face has become its own moon.

But… I’m still here.

And sometimes that’s enough.

There have been days where I’ve genuinely wondered if everyone would be better off without me.

Those are the dark days.

On those days I ask for help.

My mam and dad have carried me more times than they’ll ever know.

Sometimes I’ve celebrated Christmas in June.

One year I ignored my own birthday completely.

There’s no rulebook for surviving.

⸻

Then April came.

Walt’s epilepsy.

Then May.

Watching our little boy lie in resus.

Nearly four hours.

Watching people breathe for him through a bag and a tube.

Listening to alarms.

Waiting.

Praying.

Nothing prepares you for that.

Nothing.

When people ask why we still get on…

That’s why.

When you’ve stood in a room holding each other sobbing thinking your child might die…

Your relationship suddenly becomes the least important thing in it. Not just your relationship but every interaction you’ve had up until this very moment.

Only Walt mattered.

Only Walt still matters.

⸻

A few weeks ago our epilepsy nurse asked me,

“Are you okay?”

I laughed.

Obviously not.

I cried.

She asked if we’d had a break.

No.

Booked a holiday?

No.

Gone to the cinema?

No.

Done anything?

No.

She looked at me with this mixture of sadness and determination and said,

“Nicola… you have to live your life.

You can’t spend every day waiting for the next seizure because none of us know when our time is up.”

Then she hugged me.

And something clicked. I want Walt to live. I want him to not just live but have the best possible quality of life he can. Including trips, holidays and sleepovers with Nana and grandad.

So…

I booked a spa with my mam.

I booked loads of lovely things for Walt over the summer.

And then I remembered I’d bought My Chemical Romance tickets before we split up. I was going to sell them.

I text Gav.

“Fancy it?”

Being the social butterfly that he is…

He said yes.

⸻

So no…
To all of you txting me the 👀👀 or what the hell? Or genuinely checking on me to make sure I haven’t lost my mind 😅- I appreciate you all so much.

But no..

We’re not secretly back together.

No…

I haven’t lost my mind.

No…

This isn’t some grand romantic reunion.

It’s literally two exhausted parents who survived the worst few months of their lives, fancied listening to some songs from 2006, eating a Five Guys and sleeping for eight glorious hours in an air-conditioned hotel. Two parents winging every single day of this journey and knowing we have to work together to get through it.

Honestly…

After this year…

I think we’ve earned it.

⸻

Life is weird.

Families are weird.

Ours especially.

I’ll always love Gav in one way or another.

I’m also fairly certain I’ll always want to stove his head in at least once a week.

Maybe one day I’ll get swept off my feet by a millionaire.

Maybe Gav will meet a fella.😅

Maybe we will all check into a nursing home together with walt when we’re 60?

Who knows?

Life’s too bloody short to spend it worrying what the neighbours think. Or anyone for that matter.
Long as you’re not hurting anyone or killing someone just do whatever it is you need to survive.

And if you’re scared to do something because people might gossip…

Bin that feeling.

Book the spa.

Book the cinema.

Book the gig.

Go for the meal.

Take the break.

Looking after yourself doesn’t mean the people you love matter less.

Sometimes it’s exactly how you keep being the person they need.

And if anyone’s got a problem with that…

Well…

F**k it. 🖤

- looking at these circa 06’ pics of emo Gav & nic we never would’ve have forgiven 2026 Gav & Nic for not going. 🤘🏻😅


My Chemical Romance @

Also. Couldn’t be more proud of my mam and dad . Who not only looked after Walt amazingly did his peg and made sure he was okay. But they too thought I was batsh*t and supported me anyway.
Truth is not a single person can truly understand life with Walt unless you live every single second like me. And I am so so grateful and lucky to have them by my side. 🩷
Thank You ❤️ - think he missed me?💔🤍