Mollie’s Mission

18/05/2026

The quiet works that goes unseen…

When you know your child with additional needs a new course, new interventions, equipment, tools, treatments, new people but not knowing which course to take…We skip Netflix at night to search Google for answers we do not have. We dig, investigate and hope that this new thing, equipment, therapy will help them.
We are confused, tired but keep searching in the quiet times because our love is relentless. We search and pray for the answers surrounding us out of and through love. This love is a verb and it calls to act.
So we get up everyday, get our little person ready for the day, go back to our laptops, our phones, trying to find the next right thing for them, a task they cannot do yet, or perhaps will never be able to do.
Some days this journey feels heavier than others, but every single day we keep showing up. Big things happen in these quiet moments and when you ask for help.
I’ve been and will continue to work tirelessly behind the scenes with members of our community to help make our island more inclusive — pushing for accessible equipment in our facilities and shared spaces, so that every family has the chance to belong. It’s about real, visible differences that allow children like Mollie, living with additional support needs, to play, explore, and experience the world alongside everyone else.
This is also why I created Mollie’s Mission. It was never just about fundraising for her physiotherapy or equipment she requires — it was about something much bigger. It’s about raising awareness of the challenges families like ours face every single day, and using that awareness to drive real change. It’s about helping to create a more inclusive environment where no family feels left behind.
Because the truth is, isolation can take a real toll on families with children who have additional needs. It can mean missing out on simple days out, feeling like you don’t quite fit in, leaving somewhere early or hesitating to join in because the world isn’t built with your child in mind. Over time, that isolation can affect mental health, and make everyday life feel much smaller than it should be. No family should feel like they have to navigate that alone.
I’m doing this for families like ours — the ones who sometimes feel overlooked, isolated, or unsure if there’s a place for them. Because there should be and there needs to be.
Inclusion means more than access; it means connection. It means being able to go out as a family without barriers, without hesitation, and without feeling ‘too’ different. It means laughter in shared spaces, friendships forming naturally, and memories being made just like any other family.
It’s not always an easy road. There are challenges, difficult conversations, financial blocks and moments where progress feels slow.
But there are also people in this community who have been open, supportive, and willing to stand alongside us — and for that, we are deeply grateful.
This new piece of equipment at ISL is going to make a big difference to our lives and with people such as those mentioned in this article are helping us build something better. Not just for our child, but for every family who deserves to feel seen, included, and part of something bigger. And that’s a fight worth continuing. A big thank you to all those involved in getting this life changing piece of equipment and for listening, for making our family feel seen and now included.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1510868774175882&id=100057583204685

We had a very special guest visit us last week! ⭐ Mollie’s Mission

Mollie and Mum Eilidh came along to the Sports Centre following the arrival of our new accessible young persons pool chair! We are delighted to be able to support Mollie and her family in accessing the pool safely and hope that lots of other young people and their families will benefit from this too. Our thanks to Eilidh for her efforts in making this all come together!

Thanks also to Councillors Gordon Murray & Frances Murray (pictured) and their colleagues Councillors Rae Mackenzie and Iain Macaulay for the ward contributions they made towards the purchase of the chair 🤩

Check out the full article on welovestornoway.com - https://welovestornoway.com/index.php/articles/42362-new-accessibility-chair-at-the-sports-centre

11/05/2026

😀😀🤩

We had a very special guest visit us last week! ⭐ Mollie’s Mission

Mollie and Mum Eilidh came along to the Sports Centre following the arrival of our new accessible young persons pool chair! We are delighted to be able to support Mollie and her family in accessing the pool safely and hope that lots of other young people and their families will benefit from this too. Our thanks to Eilidh for her efforts in making this all come together!

Thanks also to Councillors Gordon Murray & Frances Murray (pictured) and their colleagues Councillors Rae Mackenzie and Iain Macaulay for the ward contributions they made towards the purchase of the chair 🤩

Check out the full article on welovestornoway.com - https://welovestornoway.com/index.php/articles/42362-new-accessibility-chair-at-the-sports-centre

06/05/2026

The ‘Quick Run’ or ‘quick visit’ that is never quick….

One thing I get frustrated about as a caregiver is that there is almost no such thing as a quick run.

For a lot of people, a quick run is simple.

Grab the keys. Jump in the car. Run into the shop. Come back home.

But when you are caring for a medically complex child or adult, especially someone who uses a wheelchair, needs full support, has medical supplies, and cannot simply get themselves in and out of the vehicle, nothing is that simple.

A quick run becomes a whole operation.

Before you even leave the house, you are already thinking through:
Changing bags.
Extra clothes.
Meds.
Water.
Feeding supplies.
Emergency supplies.
Weather.
Parking.
Wheelchair access.
Ramps.
Bathrooms.

How long you will be gone.
How tired she already is.
Whether her body is having a good day.
Whether there is a safe and dignified place to change her.
Whether the “quick” run might turn into something much longer.

And then comes the physical part.
Loading your child.
Securing them safely.
Loading the wheelchair.
Loading the supplies.
Driving there.
Finding accessible parking.
Unloading everything.
Getting through the quick run .

Watching the environment the whole time.

Loading everything back up.
Driving home.
Unloading again.
And by the time it is over, the quick run itself may have been small, like getting a couple of messages from the shop or picking up a prescription but the caregiving around it was not.

💜

That is the part people do not always see.

They see the trip.
They do not see the load-in.
They do not see the planning.
They do not see the lifting.
They do not see the transfers.
They do not see the mental checklist running in the background.

They do not see how one blocked access aisle, one broken lift, one missing ramp, one crowded doorway, one inaccessible bathroom; or one unexpected delay can turn a simple outing into a full-body stress event.

And sometimes that is why caregivers stay home more than people realise.

Not because we do not want to go.
Not because our child does not deserve to be out in the world.
Not because we are antisocial.
Not because we are trying to be difficult.
But because getting out can be mentally, physically, emotionally, and logistically exhausting.

For caregivers, “quick” is not measured by distance.
It is measured by transfer load, equipment load, medical risk, access, dignity, and how much energy it will take to get everyone back home safely.

💜

And I want to be clear.

This is not complaining about Mollie. This is not saying she is a burden.

She is not. She is worth every bit of care. Every lift. Every plan. Every mile. Every hard moment.

This is about being honest about the reality around caregiving.

Because caregivers carry a kind of invisible labor most people never have to calculate.

We are not just parenting.
We are lifting. Packing. Planning. Scanning. Advocating. Protecting. Transferring. Troubleshooting. Watching for fatigue. Watching for emotional distress, Watching for pain. Watching for bathroom access. Watching for dignity. Watching for a way in. Watching for a way out.

And still trying to live normal life in a world that was not built for the amount of preparation our families have to carry.

💜

Sometimes the hardest part is not the errand itself.

It is knowing how much effort it takes just to do something ordinary like:
Run into the shop.
Pick up medicine.
Grab dinner.
Go to church.
Take them somewhere fun.
Visit family.
Visit friends.
Show up to an event.
Go on a holiday.
Make one quick stop on the way home.

💜

For many families, those moments may be inconvenient.

For caregiving families, they can require the energy of a deployment.

Every outing has a plan.
Every plan has a backup plan.
Every backup plan has a “what if.”
What if there is no accessible parking?
What if the bathroom does not work for us?
What if the wheelchair cannot fit?
What if we can’t take all the equipment she needs?
What if the ramp is blocked?
What if I have to change her in the van?
What if her body is done before the errand is done?

And sometimes, before we even leave the driveway, we are already tired.

Caregiver exhaustion is not laziness.

It is the cost of doing ordinary things with extraordinary responsibility and strength.

💜

And this is where people need to understand accessibility better.

Accessibility is not a bonus.

It is not special treatment and being entitled.

It is not extra convenience.

It is the difference between being able to participate and having to stay home.

A clear access aisle matters.

A working ramp matters.

A wide doorway matters.

A functioning life matters.

An adult changing table matters in bathrooms.

Space matters.

Time matters.

Because families like ours are not asking for the world to revolve around us.

We are asking for the world to stop making basic life harder than it already is.

Access is not about comfort.

Access is about whether a family can safely and be dignified to exist in public.

💜

So if you see a caregiver cancel plans, show up late, look tired, or say, “I just cannot do it today,” please understand there may be a whole story behind that sentence.

There may have been a wheelchair.
A transfer.
A medical issue.
A bathroom concern.
A parking concern.
A sleep-deprived night.
A child or adult whose body was already struggling before the day even started.

A parent trying to decide if one errand is worth the physical and emotional cost of the whole operation.

And sometimes honesty sounds like this:
I love my child deeply.
I would do anything for her.
And I am tired.
Both can be true.

That is real-life caregiving.

It is love with logistics.
It is devotion with lifting.
It is advocacy with back pain.
It is inclusion with a full boot.

It is family life with equipment, supplies, medication plans, feeding plans, bathroom calculations, and constant planning.

It is exhausting.
It is sacred.
It is hard.

And being transparent about that does not make us ungrateful. It makes us human.

💜

So the next time someone says, “Just run in real quick,” remember:

For some families, there is no “just.”

There is no “real quick.”

There is a whole invisible mission behind the ordinary moment.

And sometimes the most loving thing you can do for a caregiver is give grace.

Give time.
Give space.
Clear the access aisle.
Hold the door.
Do not stare.
Do not judge.

And understand that what looks like a simple outing may have taken everything they had to make happen.

10/04/2026

Today was a big and emotional day for our family as we said goodbye to the Stornoway childcare centre and all the staff. A place that has meant so much to us as, I was hesitant to put Mollie here when I got offered the space but it’s been the best decision I could have made for her so it was a bittersweet goodbye 🥹 a massive thank you to the incredible staff who have supported, encouraged, cared for her every single day. Your patience, kindness, compassion and dedication have helped her grow in confidence and ability in ways we will always be grateful for.

We couldn’t have asked for better support, patience and understanding to us as a family as it’s been a real learning experience navigating life in a nursery setting with a child with additional needs. We hope that along the way it’s been a learning journey for the staff too and the new lessons made to support and include our daughter have helped create an even more inclusive
environment for other children in the future.

Mollie has reached milestones we once never thought possible and seeing her thrive in a mainstream setting has been such a gift. Watching her overcome challenges - big and small - has meant the world to us and we know she wouldn’t be where she is without the amazing staff by her side. You haven’t just been her nursery - you’ve been a safe, nurturing place where she has truly been seen, understood and supported. This is something we’ll never forgot.

While it’s hard to say goodbye we are so proud of her as she takes this next step in her education journey and attends laxdale sgoil araich. We carry so much appreciation for everything the staff at the Stornoway childcare centre have done to help get her there. Thank you for being such an important part of her story 🌟💞