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Claire

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<div>Hi, my name is Claire a 32yo nurse and mother of two — and this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to write.
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<div>On 28 September 2025, I thought I’d aggravated my back (walking around the Melbourne Show with my 4yo and my partner) Something minor. Something that would settle. I kept going, because that’s what parents do. We push through. We minimise. We tell ourselves it will pass.
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<div>It didn’t.
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<div>Over the next three weeks, the pain worsened until my world became smaller and smaller. By 18 October, I could no longer sit or stand. I was losing feeling and movement in my right leg. I was terrified. An ambulance was called, and I was admitted to hospital — not knowing that my life was about to change completely.
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<div>What followed were weeks of hospitalisation, relentless nerve pain, loss of mobility, and the slow, devastating realisation that my body was failing me.
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<div>I’m a nurse. I’m a parent. I’m used to being strong.
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<div>Nothing prepares you for being the one in the hospital bed.
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<div>Every day became about survival — managing pain that burned, stabbed, froze, and stole sleep. Learning how to move again. Relying on mobility aids. Losing my independence piece by piece. All while missing my children and trying to hold myself together so they wouldn’t see how broken I felt.
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<div>My children are my whole world.
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<div>They’ve watched their parent go from capable and present to hospitalised, medicated, and unable to do the simplest things. No child should have to see that. No parent wants to be remembered this way.
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<div>I am waiting for spinal surgery in January 2026, and while I hold onto hope, the reality is brutal: I cannot work. I cannot earn. I cannot “push through” this.
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<div>The financial impact has been overwhelming — bills, rent, medical costs, recovery equipment — all piling up while my only job is trying to heal.
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<div>I am endlessly grateful for my partner, Shantelle, who has carried me through this — advocating for me in hospital, caring for me at my weakest, and getting me home safely. But love, no matter how strong, doesn’t cover the cost of survival.
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<div><strong>Why I’m Asking for Help</strong>
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<div>Asking for help feels humiliating. I’ve always been independent. I’ve always looked after others.
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<div>But right now, I am asking — because I have no other choice.
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<div>Funds raised will help cover:
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<div>- Basic living expenses while I cannot work, such as food and rent
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<div>- Medical and recovery costs not fully covered
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<div>- Mobility aids and home supports
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<div>- Stability and care for my children while I heal
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<div>If you are able to donate, please know you are helping a family stay afloat during the darkest chapter of our lives.
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<div>If you can’t donate, sharing this matters more than you know.
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<div>I am fighting to get my life back.
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<div>I am fighting to be the parent my children deserve again.
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<div>And I believe — even on the days it’s hard to breathe — that there is another side to this.
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<div>Thank you for reading.
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<div>Thank you for seeing me.
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<div>With love,
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<div>Claire 
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