Being told your child has autism -This is family

Being told your child has autism -This is family

I’m a talker, I wear my heart on my sleeve. But when you suspect your child has autism – and don’t yet know – it can be hard to talk about. You don’t want to give them a label, especially if your suspicions are wrong!

What does it feel like to be told that your child has autism? For a label to be placed on something that you had been wondering about for so long? One mum shares her story. In the hope that any other parent in the agonising limbo, waiting for a diagnosis, feels less alone.

How does it feel to be told your child has autism?

Honestly, I don’t quite know. And I’ve just been told this 3 days ago.

Just like every family is different and every child is different, everyone’s experience of getting an autism diagnosis will be different too. But I thought I’d share my experience so far, in case it helps anyone else on this long and winding road.

For me, it feels like we’ve been on this journey for a very long time. It feels like we’ve known the answer deep down for a long time. But in reality it was only about 5 months ago that the GP suggested autism may be the reason behind my son’s challenging behaviour. Sure, we’d spent the past few years questioning if there was ‘something’. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve Googled autism signs. But it hit me like a ton of bricks when the GP actually said it. (She suggested it, she didn’t make a diagnosis).

Wanting to talk, but not wanting to label

I’m a talker, I wear my heart on my sleeve. But when you suspect your child has autism – and don’t yet know – it can be hard to talk about. You don’t want to give them a label, especially if your suspicions are wrong!

I think that’s the same reason I had refrained from raising the problems sooner. When he was a baby we felt he was ‘different’ to other babies around us – but hey, we’re new parents and meant to be loving every minute! When he was two his behaviour was extremely challenging – but that’s why it’s called the terrible twos right?! And then the troublesome threes…

OK, by three we were crying out for help, but our concerns were brushed aside by the GP and health visitors. They said he’s too young to diagnose behavioural problems, he’s still developing, we can’t refer to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service) until he’s six. SIX!!

A trip to A&E and the catalyst for change

The real catalyst for getting any sort of help was when social services got involved. (The aggressive behaviour towards siblings had resulted in a couple of trips to A&E – the first time they laugh it off, the second time they report you.) But in a funny sort of way that was the best thing to have happened. Now we were listened to, now we were given help. The GP took us seriously and made a referral to a developmental pediatrician. We were given a family support worker, and regular meetings started taking place at school with a team of healthcare professionals and the headteacher.

It would be so easy now for me to jump right to the point where we got the diagnosis. But I’m not going to do that – and let me tell you why.

little boy covering his eyes

An eternal limbo of uncertainty

The part where you know your child is on a different path to others is a weird part. It’s been suggested to you that they have additional needs, but you do not yet have a diagnosis. And this is a part where I have done a LOT of Googling, but I don’t find many people talking about. People tend to talk about the part where they’ve been diagnosed onwards. (Perhaps with the odd retrospective ‘I always knew there was something’ thrown in).

This is the part where you are constantly looking for signs. Constantly Googling. Where you’ve been told to make notes, keep diaries, go on courses to find out more – but you still just don’t know. So you have days where your child’s symptoms are less clear – or actually just not there. And then you beat yourself up wondering if you’ve got this whole thing wrong? It’s the part where you go from thinking ‘My child definitely has autism’, to ‘Actually I think it’s ADHD’, to ‘No – all kids do x, y, z sometimes and we’ve got this all wrong’.

little boy playing with bricks

It’s a lonely limbo too

It’s also the part where you are still living with your daily struggles, and still feel unable to talk about it. You don’t feel able to join support groups. And you also don’t have that ‘reason’ to explain to others why things are the way they are. This is a lonely and confusing part.

It is also a part that you know will be long (unless you go private), but you have no idea how long. That massively adds to the frustration.

So I wanted to write this to anyone who is in this eternal, uncertain limbo. You feel alone, but you are not. People don’t talk about this part, but one day when you find the courage to start talking, you will realise that there are many, many other families going through similar (albeit unique) experiences. And once you start talking to other parents, you may realise your children do exactly the same thing in certain situations – and that feels SOOO reassuring.

This part is long, but it won’t last forever. You’re doing everything you can with the information available to you, and you’re fighting your child’s corner each day. So pour yourself a hot chocolate and take a deep breath. There will be a conclusion eventually.

What next?

I’m officially the other side of that weird part now. We have the diagnosis. But ultimately we have the same amazing, loving, funny, clever child that we had before.

I don’t know what’s next – I’m sure there will be positives in terms of getting any extra help, and I’m sure there will continue to be hard times too. So wish me luck, as I do you 🙂

If you think your child has autism

The National Autistic Society is the UK’s leading charity for people on the autistic spectrum and their families. They have in depth advice and guidance. They have branches all across the UK to provide support, information and social activities for autistic children, adults and their families. And they also have a directory of services and support for families and an online community. They are an invaluable source of support.

Would you like to share YOUR story?

We’d love to hear from you. This Is Family is all about sharing family stories – especially from families who feel like their voices are not often heard. Every family has a unique story to tell. We’d love to hear yours. Find out how you can feature on our blog and get involved. So that other parents can feel less alone.

More from This is family:

Adopting a child with trauma

IVF at 40: Our story

A diary of a miscarriage

Adopting a child with trauma – This is family

Adopting a child with trauma – This is family

The light bulb moment when our son realises he’s safe and loved after experiencing triggers -you can’t wipe that smile off my face. The distance that was created by trauma is healed. It’s a magical moment.

Adoption is a process that a lot of people have heard about. But very few of us are aware of the ins-and-outs of what life is like with an adopted child. Particularly adopting a child with previous trauma.

Justine shares with us her family life and just some of the experiences she’s had after adopting a child with trauma. She has some excellent advice and offers brilliant insight into what it’s like to walk a day in her shoes.

Thank you so much, Justine, for sharing your story with Happity. x


What is your family set up? 

We are a family of 3. Me, Justine, my husband and our adopted son.

At early ages me and my husband knew we wanted to adopt. We went through our local authorities adoption service. It took 18 months to get approved then another 3 months to adopt our son.

We went through a series of interviews and training sessions. The interviews consisted of questions about our marriage, childhood, work, how we’d parent etc. It was actually quite therapeutic! And when we finally saw our son for the first time it was a magical moment. I still look back at that time and my heart leaps with excitement. 

If you were to describe parenting an adopted child with trauma in one sentence, what would it be?

When parenting an adopted child, get the parenting books and turn them on their head.

One of the differing areas for our family was potty training. Our son potty trained at 4 which in a lot of circles is very late. Due to his trauma his brain hadn’t developed enough to recognise when he needed to go to the toilet. Many traumatised children’s biological steps are out of sync. It’s important to tap into your local adoption network and go with your gut feeling.

One of the other differences, which is rather surprising, is lots of birth parents are not taught about therapeutic parenting. Before our son arrived we had tools to help our son understand and communicate his feelings to us. How to deal with situations like difficult behaviour. When telling parents who gave birth naturally what we learnt they wanted to know more.

If you know any adoptive parents they have a lot of knowledge and worth tapping into if you need advice.

An area with direct opposing advice is managing difficult behaviour. Most healthy disciplines involve a form of time out. Time outs will usually trigger a traumatised child, it reminds them of being on their own and create feelings of shame.

Instead of time out we put our son on ‘reflection time’. One of us will sit next to him for the duration, saying how much we love him, he’s safe and will never let him go. At the end of the time, depending on his mental state, we’ll reflect on what and why the behaviour happened. And if he’s not in a good way, we’ll talk about it later.

What do you wish you’d known before adopting a child with trauma?

Listen to your gut feeling. Social workers, psychotherapists and others who come on your journey will tell you how to parent, what to do, and more. You as their parent(s) know your child. Follow your gut instinct, you love your child and know what is best. 

One example, I was recounting a funny story to my sons psychotherapist, my husband pruned the apple tree and our son got upset so he could get some sweets. The psychotherapist did not see the funny side, she explained the pruning of the tree represented the loss he’d experienced in his life.

Suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore!

This is what I call the trauma trap. When you put everything down to trauma, it is exhausting and takes all the fun away. I find myself drifting in and out of trauma traps on a regular basis. It’s important to be ready for when a trigger is happening, but to attribute every action to trauma is tiring. I much prefer to enjoy my time as a mum.

What bit of advice would you have given yourself on your toughest day?

Look after yourself. Parenting a child who has experienced severe trauma is hard work: you are not failing them by taking time out for yourself. You are doing a great job!

Traumatised children are forced to learn how to survive. They need to experience a safe and loving environment in order to move from survival to living mode. When survival mode is on it’s a pleasure to help my son. After he has moved back into living mode, I feel tired.

I felt bad for wanting time out, as if I was failing my son, or even making him feel it’s his fault. I’ve learnt it’s important to recharge and fill myself up again. Not only for me but also my son will learn the importance of looking after his well-being.

What’s your favourite thing about your family & your experiences of adopting a child with trauma?

The light bulb moment, when our son realises he’s safe and loved after experiencing triggers, you can’t wipe that smile off my face. It’s a magical moment. The distance that was created by trauma is healed. 

It’s hard work to get to this point, lots of patience and working through feelings. I see the weight lifted off my sons shoulders. The hard work paid off!

What part of family life are you most looking forward to?

Our family can’t wait for summer!!

We love being outside

whether that’s gardening, running around or cooking over an open fire. We still go out in winter but it’s not the same as summer. Our son helps us harvest fruits, vegetables and herbs. As a family we love to cook, when there’s lots of fresh produce it’s so wonderful to work together creating new dishes.

Roll on summer I say!

Would you like to share YOUR story?

Thank you again for sharing your story about adopting a child with previous trauma, Justine. We’d love to hear from you. This Is Family is all about sharing family stories – especially from families who feel like their voices are not often heard. Every family has a unique story to tell. We’d love to hear yours. Find out how you can feature on our blog and get involved. So that other parents can feel less alone.


More from This is family:

Matteo arrived early – my premature baby

PTSD, PND and postnatal anxiety – my story

Sleep! I hardly know her – one mum’s story

I love offering childcare as a grandparent – This is family

I love offering childcare as a grandparent – This is family

My grandsons are blossoming into two little independent toddlers they have very individual personalities and I’m having a great time watching them flourish and grow

Loraine Lewis

Loraine shares a positive story of just how much she enjoys offering childcare as a grandparent. And discusses her experiences attending baby & toddler classes as a non-parent. All while also working part-time for the NHS!

Thanks for sharing your story with us, Loraine. 💜


My family set-up

I am the mother of two beautiful children; a son, and a daughter. They are not dependants, they are grown up adults.

Yes, I write this as a grandmother, a very fortunate and honoured grandmother.

I was blessed with the birth of my two grandsons four months apart in the dreaded 2020 pandemic.

My first grandson, George, was born in June 2020 and made a surprise appearance six weeks early -in this now complicated world we were all experiencing. The weeks ahead were challenging for my daughter. She had to face the demanding task that a premature baby brings, all without having her husband by her side to share the turmoil.

My second grandson, Teddy, was born in October 2020. Lockdown restrictions were still in place, this time all without difficulty and mother and baby were out within a couple of day.

Offering childcare as a grandparent to two gorgeous boys

The coming months of their lives have bought many momentous occasions that have given me such pleasure. So, when I was asked if I could have the boys when their mums returned to work, I was ecstatic.

Both my daughter and daughter-in-law had a year’s maternity leave, albeit somewhat different in the pandemic with working from home. I said that I would help with any childcare that I could. With such a close age gap, it was going to be impossible to have them together both for the logistic and my ability to be able to cope with them safely.

As well as working for the NHS two and a half days a week, I now have George on a Thursday and Teddy on a Friday. We do lots of activities in the house but taking them out during the day is a must.  It provides them with stimulation and encourages their learning in a whole new exciting world.

This is where I found Happity. After searching online for groups and classes to take the boys to, one such group has provided great understanding around animals and bugs (yes bugs). Teddy loved the Mini Beasts and was able to hold and touch them. We will be trying Mover and Shakers this week.

I have met some lovely people and, through my ragndsons, have discovered a part of me that has laid dormant all these years.

I truly love my family and am so happy I can take childcare responsibilities as a grandparent

It can be daunting as a grandmother starting again and entering new ventures, but I’m enjoying every minute.

I love my new family life. My grandsons are blossoming into two little independent toddlers. They have very individual personalities and I’m having a great time watching them flourish and grow. I will still be searching the web for continued support to enable me to enhance their lives.

In my opinion, a family is the most important influence in children’s lives, no matter how that family is formed. I know how privileged I am to be a parent and grandparent and be able to share with their childcare and wellbeing.

I’m truly proud of my family and my delightful boys.

Would you like to share YOUR story?

We’d love to hear from you. This Is Family is all about sharing family stories – especially from families who feel like their voices are not often heard. Every family has a unique story to tell. We’d love to hear yours. Find out how you can feature on our blog and get involved. So that other parents can feel less alone.


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Dads are not babysitters!

Breastfeeding tips for new mums

Diary of a first time dad – milestones or millstones?

A diary of a miscarriage – This is family

A diary of a miscarriage – This is family

My miscarriage was shocking (to me). It was painful. And it was more than the loss of a baby that I hadn’t given birth to or ever known. It was the loss of a child I’d imagined growing up and being a mum to.

Emma shares her diary of a miscarriage. And how hard she found it. She is sharing her story because she knows that it is something that so many new parents will go through but also something that we don’t talk about enough. Here’s her story:


According to recent statistics by Tommy’s 1 in 4 women in the UK will miscarry a baby. I was one of those four. And I want to share my story because it’s something that we still find hard to talk about. And something we don’t talk about enough. It’s really understandable why it’s so very hard to write about and to talk about. Writing this brings back a lot of locked up pain. But – unless we do – miscarriage remains a hushed up and taboo subject. And many new parents may suffer in silence. Feeling that their stories are not being told and their voices are not being heard.

The day of my scan: Please don’t let me wet myself!

Waiting for my 12 week scan was like waiting for Christmas Day as a child. Time seemed to slow down in the days leading up to the first time I would get to see my baby growing in my womb. My husband and I had kept this secret hugged close to our chests for so many weeks. We’d already planned in our heads the excited phone calls to announce our big news to family and friends.

We took our seats in the waiting room, passing shy smiles to all the other waiting couples (delighted at last to be part of this whole new club). We clutched each other’s hands. We had a small, hushed argument about whether we’d pay to get a photo of the scan (We didn’t know that was a thing! He said it was a rip off, I said it was a priceless memento! I was always going to win!!).

And we sat on uncomfortable waiting room chairs to wait our turn.

And – as the minutes ticked by until my name was called the most pressing thought in my mind was ‘Oh please – don’t let me wet myself!’ I’d been drinking so much water (as I’d been advised to, to get a clear scan) and at that moment I was more worried about peeing my pants than anything else!

Moments away from seeing our baby for the very first time!

Finally (and, thankfully before I’d given in and peed on the waiting room floor!) my name was called and we went through for our scan.

The midwife was friendly and put us at ease. She explained that the gel would feel cold on my tummy. Not wrong there! She pressed the scanner down and we caught our breaths as we waited to get that life-changing first glimpse of the baby we’d created.

The screen was turned away from us at this point. She moved the scanner up and down. I was staring at her face and it was at this point I noticed a flicker of something pass across it. She said that she was just going to step out and ask a senior colleague to come into the room. And – at that point – I knew.

I knew. I just knew.

‘I’m so sorry to tell you that your baby has died in the womb’

The senior consultant turned the screen round and showed me the scan of my baby. She gently explained that sadly my baby had died in the womb. From what she could tell and the measurements that were taken my baby had probably died in my womb one or two weeks ago.

I looked. I listened. But I found it hard to hear or comprehend. I know now that already I was in shock. And all the hopes and dreams and imagined future I’d been holding so close to me had been taken away in the time it took for her to say those few words.

‘What do you want to do next?’

That’s what they asked me. Kindly. But all I wanted to scream was ‘I want my baby. I want this not to have happened and I want my baby’.

I was given the choice of going home to see if a I would miscarry naturally or take tablets or have a surgical procedure.

I chose to go home and see.

And I was ushered back through that waiting room full of expectant and excited parents. It felt like the cruellest thing. It felt like walking through a new club I was so nearly part of. But one I now had to leave.

‘Lie still, I have to remove the product’

Diary of a miscarriage - woman holds head in hands

Back at home after those painful phone calls to our parents to tell them in one conversation that I had been pregnant but had now lost our child (and after so many tears) we finally fell asleep. I woke in the middle of the night with cramps. Cramps that caused so much pain that I began to feel that I needed help.

And so went into the hospital.

It was 3am. The doctor who saw me was kind and calm but one thing I remember to this day. She was just using the right ‘medical terminology’. But it really hurt.

She told me try and lie still because she needed to ‘remove the product’.

Those words cut me to my very core.

To me what she was ‘removing’ (with some sort of long tweezers) was not a ‘product’ but the remains of my baby. Our baby.

Why does nobody want to talk about miscarriage?

My miscarriage was shocking (to me). It was painful. And it was more than the loss of a baby that I hadn’t given birth to or ever known. It was the loss of a child I’d imagined growing up and being a mum to.

Because we’d kept our pregnancy secret telling people about our miscarriage was harder.

Very few knew what to say. Or whether to say anything at all.

I wanted – NEEDED – to talk about it. To help me process it. To understand.

And I found this wall of silence hard. I understood why it was hard to talk about but I needed to talk about it and not being able to made dealing with it so much tougher.

Diary of a miscarriage: The grief and loss

After my miscarriage I felt grief. A painful and very real grief for our loss. For my baby and also for the future that we had imagined. But because I hadn’t given birth or buried my baby it felt like I should hide the grief I was feeling. Well meaning comments such as ‘At least it happened early on’ and ‘You can always try again’ really hurt me and made me feel like the overwhelming grief I was feeling was somehow misplaced.

Miscarriage is common but still unique

It was only after I had a miscarriage that I found out how common it was. Indeed several family members and friends shared stories of their own miscarriages. Which they’d never spoken much about. And which I hadn’t known about. It was like a big secret. Something that just happened and was to be brushed under the carpet.

But that made each miscarriage feel unimportant. And belittled it’s significance.

Why don’t we talk about miscarriage more? And why don’t we recognise the loss and the pain so openly?

The answer – probably – is because it’s so hard.

A happy ending

I miscarried my first baby several years ago. I am now the mum of two happy and healthy girls. I miscarried another baby in between both those successful pregnancies. I know I am blessed and lucky to be the mum of my two lovely daughters. I still think often of the two babies that I carried in my womb for too short a time. My angel babies. The ones I knew for such a short time and never got to hold in my arms.

I’m sharing my story because it’s a story that one in four mums (and dads – let’s not forget how it affects dads too) may relate to. At least in part. This is my story. But I hope it opens up a conversation and the chance for others to reflect on and share their own stories too.

My miscarriage: What didn’t help:

Diary of a miscarriage - woman holding help sign
  • Blaming myself. I did. What if it was something I did (or didn’t do) that caused it? I soon realised there was no space in my head to start blaming myself and going down that rabbit hole just wasn’t going to help.
  • Shaming myself. I felt like I’d somehow ‘failed’ at my first chance at motherhood. But, again, I soon realised that feelings of shame or failure were both not warranted and not fair to myself.
  • Hiding my feelings. It felt better to open up and talk about how I was feeling and cry when I needed to.

My miscarriage: What did help:

  • Taking time to grieve and recover. I was lucky that my employer gave me time off work to grieve and to recover. That really helped. I needed that time to just process the trauma and the loss and to take care of myself.
  • Having company. My saviour was my mother in law who was there for me day after day. She took me on walks or for lunch. Sometimes I cried and she held me. Sometimes we talked about what had happened, and she listened. Sometimes we didn’t talk about it but she just was there for me – giving me company and a reason to get up and get through the day.
  • Talking. I needed to talk about it. And talking really helped. I was lucky to have family and friends who let me talk and listened. I think that if I hadn’t had them there talking to a counsellor would have really helped me. If you have had a miscarriage and are struggling – do reach out and get help. Please don’t suffer alone. The Miscarriage Association is a great place to find help and support.

Would you like to share YOUR story?

We’d love to hear from you. This Is Family is all about sharing family stories – especially from families who feel like their voices are not often heard. Every family has a unique story to tell. We’d love to hear yours. Find out how you can feature on our blog and get involved. So that other parents can feel less alone.

More From This Is Family

Sleep – I Hardly Knew Her

When Breastfeeding Is Hard

Matteo Came Early

Raising children in the climate crisis – This is family

Raising children in the climate crisis – This is family

So, how to teach our children about their civil rights, their fragile future, the climate crisis and equip them with the life skills they may need in the event of societal collapse without panicking them and taking away their innocent childhoods?

Holly Cullen-Davies

Environmental activist Holly Cullen-Davies shares with us her experience raising her children whilst being mindful of the current climate crisis. Read on to find out more about how she approaches this very tricky topic.


This is my family

My name is Holly. I’m 38 and the mother of a 9-year-old boy and 7-year old girl. I separated from their dad four years ago. Just before lockdown 2020 I met someone new and he has been living with us since January 2021. My children now have a stepmother, a stepfather and a half baby brother from their dad. 

There are lots of elements of this setup that I could write about but what I would like to focus on in today’s article is the subject of raising children in the climate crisis. This will be on the minds of lots of parents, whatever the age of their children, and the journey for me has been an interesting one, particularly over the last two years during the Covid pandemic.

I have always cared passionately about the environment and have had the fear of global warming hanging over me since I was a child. I had a pretty happy upbringing. My parents didn’t put pressure on me. They were loving and nurturing and to be honest I didn’t really know what ‘stress’ was until I left home. But I did carry the weight of climate change on my shoulders. And it has simply got worse as our carbon emissions continue to rise, more roads and runways are built and the rainforests are felled.

Finding my family and raising my children to be aware of the climate crisis

I met my new partner two years ago through environmental activism. Both musicians, we found a way to to use our skills and careers to sing and fight for change. This felt good. It felt natural also to incorporate the children into some of what we did. We took them on protests, taught them to climb trees, let them help in the package free store and sang fun songs.

But it quickly became apparent to me that this was a delicate subject which would have to be carefully considered and constantly monitored.

For starters their dad wasn’t at all happy about us involving them in our activism. It became a new point of contention that was being passed indirectly between us via the children. And quite aside from this I wanted to protect my children from some of the frightening truths the scientists are telling us. Kids their age are not ready to take this on yet in my opinion.

So, how to teach our children about their civil rights, their fragile future and equip them with the life skills they may need in the event of societal collapse without panicking them and taking away their innocent childhoods?

What steps have I taken to raise my children in the climate crisis?

I don’t have all the answers. But this is where I’ve got to: I’m still going out of my way to give them the childhood I would have liked them to have if the climate crisis didn’t exist. We sing, dance, go swimming, camping and rollerskating, travel via train to exciting places and they attend a regular local primary school.

Holly and her children travelling in a greener way, demonstrating ways to raise your children in the current climate crisis

I do NOT tell them about my fears of societal collapse, or even extinction (of humans). But simply focus on the positive things we can do to make things better. Including questioning some of the laws that threaten our future and our human rights.

 I try as much as possible without preaching about it to live the life that I feel we all need to move towards. I sold the car and bought an electric tricycle – probably the most exciting thing I’ve ever bought! The kids love it and I highly recommend it. We no longer fly. My partner spends considerable amounts of his time up trees to stop them being felled. I address the crisis in all parts of my work and refuse (as I often did before) to avoid speaking about it as if it were a taboo subject. 

We still eat some animal products but in small quantities and I’ve really stopped focusing on growth (monetarily or career wise). I’m trying simply to live more in the moment. This is not easy for me.

On top of this I don’t tell my children that I or their dad have the right answers. They are desperate to know who is telling the truth which is sad but I simply tell them they will have to decide for themselves in their own time. I don’t want them to feel they have to take sides.

Dress rehearsals and awareness for the future

I wish I could be raising my children without thinking about the climate crisis. But if there is one good thing that has come out of the covid pandemic it has been the proof to me that people can come together, they can look after each other and they can slow down and re-evaluate their lives. I can only hope that this has been a dress rehearsal for what is to come in the future. I’m not going to tell my children what to believe. But I do feel proud that whatever happens they will know I did do something.

I tried. And this is all any of us can do.

As well as being an environmental activist and mother Holly runs singing classes called Thula Mama for babies and toddlers where parents learn songs from around the world in easy to grasp harmonies.  It is open to all and has frequently been described as “the best thing about parental leave!”

Check out Thula Mama London on Happity!

Do you want to share your story too?

Do you want to share your story and be part of our #This Is Family blog series? We’d love to hear from you. We want to hear your story, your challenges and your triumphs so other parents in similar situations can learn, share and realise that they are not alone. Read more about #This Is Family and find out how you can get involved too.


More From This Is Family:

Sleep? I Hardly Know Her

Matteo Arrived Early

When Breastfeeding Is Too Hard