joscott

Married since 1996, three fabulous children, Head of Comms at Aspen

[joscott @joscott]

@KirstieMAllsopp Just to add, my sister’s baby boy Matthew died on 8th May 1984 because. incompetent midwives wanted to ‘de-medicalise’ his birth. 42 years ago. Nothing has changed.

[joscott @joscott]

@KirstieMAllsopp At what point did noboby think, hey we are spending more on maternity litigation than we are on all UK maternity services. Maybe just maybe we might have a problem…?

[joscott @joscott]

@ShaunLintern On 8th May 1984 my sister’s baby boy Matthew died as a stillborn during a birth that was consistently mishandled by under qualified midwives who ignored red flag after red flag. 42 years ago. Nothing has changed. Will this still be the case in 2068? Women and babies don’t matter.

[joscott @joscott]

@fugitiveink Wu-tang Cat aged 13 got into a scrap with another cat (grumpy old lady). It took 4 of us at the vet to get her into her little suit to stop her scratching her wound. And 5 minutes at home for her to find a way out of it…

[Stefan Moore ★ @2StefanMoore]

After your child survives cancer, people expect you to exhale.

They think the hard part is over. The bell rang. The scans are clear. The hospital bags are unpacked. Life is supposed to snap back into place like nothing ever happened.

But nobody talks about what happens inside a mother after.

There’s a terror that doesn’t leave. It just changes shape.

I walk through normal days carrying invisible alarms in my chest. A cough is never just a cough. A bruise is never just a bruise. A headache can steal the air right out of my lungs before my brain has time to be rational. My mind learned a language in those hospital halls that it can’t unlearn. It learned how fast life can flip. It learned how fragile a child’s body can be. It learned what it feels like to sit in a room where your entire world is balanced on a doctor’s breath.

And it doesn’t stop with the child who was sick.

Cancer rewires the way I see all of my children. Every fever one of her brothers gets makes my heart stutter. Every complaint of pain sends my mind sprinting to places I never used to go. I hate that fear touches them too. I hate that a shadow follows moments that should be simple. I watch them play and part of me is celebrating, while another part is quietly begging the universe to let them stay safe. All of them. Always.

That doesn’t disappear when treatment ends.

There’s a grief that lives next to the gratitude. Gratitude that she’s here. Gratitude that we get to wake up together. But grief for the mother I was before I knew how to read lab numbers. Before I knew the sound of infusion pumps. Before I knew the specific silence of a cancer floor at 3 a.m. That version of me is gone. Cancer didn’t just touch her body. It rewired my soul.

Some nights I still wake up in a panic, reaching for a child who is sleeping peacefully right next to me. My body hasn’t caught up to the safety yet. It still thinks we’re fighting. It still thinks we’re counting platelets. It still thinks I have to be ready to run. And sometimes I check on all of them, one by one, just to feel their chests rise and fall, just to prove to my heart that this moment is real.

And the strangest part is doing all of this while smiling. Packing lunches. Folding tiny clothes. Sitting at parties. Laughing with other parents who don’t know that a piece of me is always scanning for danger, always measuring time in what ifs, always whispering thank you for three children I get to tuck in at night.

This is the after no one prepares you for.

Mothers of childhood cancer survivors carry a quiet storm. We are grateful beyond words, yes. But we are also changed in ways that don’t fit into celebration posts. We love harder. We fear deeper. We hold our babies a second longer because we know exactly what it feels like to almost let go.

And if you ever see a mother like me staring a little too long at her children, just know she isn’t being dramatic. She’s remembering the war her heart survived. She’s honoring the miracle in front of her.

She’s breathing in a life she knows is never guaranteed.”

❤️ #BraveLikeBrynlee ❤️

[joscott @joscott]

@Romy_Holland I had one really really difficult baby and two easier babies that never slept. It’s just hard, and parents who haven’t experienced this have no idea how tough, exhausting and unrewarding it can be. Hang on in there, my babies are 28, 24 and 17 and utterly loved and loving.

[joscott @joscott]

@britishpoles @RAFBBMF @RAFAssociation @RAFMUSEUM @ipngovpl_eng @RAFNortholt @FlightPolish @pettore @ReidEdwardII @AnnaClunes @AmbWilczek I grew up near to Biggin Hill, the Polish pilots had a huge reputation for theirs courage, loyalty and charisma. At my sister’s wedding in 1979 a number of Polish pilots were having a reunion at the same hotel. They were hugely impressive but understated. We owe them so much

[joscott @joscott]

Jolalj

[joscott @joscott]

@NoContextBrits Bantex

[joscott @joscott]

@RobbieRinder @HMD_UK Done. And never forgotten.

[joscott @joscott]

@Number10cat I really needed to hear that today - thank you

[joscott @joscott]

@BradfemlyWalsh @ronmanagernottm Oh completely agree except it’s 20 Piccadilly Tipped

[joscott @joscott]

@ineedanothernap I genuinely believe medication helps, so does structure and predictability. But most of all, it gets easier as they get older and more mature. I 100% promise you it gets easier. I didn’t believe this at the time but it really is the case

[joscott @joscott]

@Thehullboy1 Please just imagine what a fantastic role model you are and how many people are rooting for you. Know it is real and not your imagination. Not every day will be brilliant but brilliant days will come x

[joscott @joscott]

@exitthelemming Just one of the very best accounts on Twitter 💕

[joscott @joscott]

@Sajhawkins1 These babies are never forgotten. They are woven into our family stories. 40 years on from the (avoidable) stillbirth of my nephew Matthew, I think of him often. What a beautiful girl Harriet was.

[joscott @joscott]

@dineen20dineen OMG I loved Bunty, loved the cut-out dolls, highlight of my week in the 1970s!

[joscott @joscott]

@imbethmccoll Rev, Ghosts, Derry Girls, Ted Lasso, Colin from Accounts, Bluestone 42

[joscott @joscott]

@deidrejowen You could write to their insurer to raise concerns. Insurer might withdraw or raise premiums beyond what is viable. This is the route we ended up going down because they just would not be told

[joscott @joscott]

@lickedspoon Looks gorgeous. I was inspired by a glut of courgettes to make ratatouille for about first the time in a decade. Just delicious with crusty bread. Love the abundance of this time of year