The Moment I Became a Special-Needs Parent And Lost My Name

My life changed in that hospital room. My sense of self-identity was crushed. I was no longer Kat Abianac – blonde, high-heel wearing, happy-go-lucky, loves life and always puts a positive spin on things. I was now a Hospital Mum.

‘Mum’ was used by medical professionals and nurses for the rest of our two month hospital stay. I didn’t hear my name out loud in that room unless I was brave and corrected nurses with my real name, the same nurses I already knew on sight, who in the vast majority greeted me with zero recognition on their smiling faces. ‘Good morning, Mum, how’s our little man?’ The word was dehumanised for me by that experience. I was grateful for the few close friends who came to see me regularly during those long weeks. In those moments, I felt like my old self again.

My son is now two, and thriving. Life is different now. I don’t think about those days often unless I actively choose to, or am triggered by a smell or sound familiar to me from the wards.

I picked a close friend up from hospital after a procedure, having dropped her off earlier in the day. She got in the car and she started talking: “I’m so sorry I didn’t know what it was like for you. I just sat in that hospital alone, and imagined you having a baby in hospital by yourself for so long. I felt so lonely in there. The questions they ask – so irrelevant and they asked the same things over and over. It’s none of their business, is it? Did they ask you things like that every day on rounds? I know I visited and I was there seeing you, but I just didn’t get it back then. I’m sorry.”

“Oh darling, that’s okay!” I answered brightly.

She put her hand over mine on the gear stick as we sat at a red light.

“No. I’m so sorry I didn’t understand. I didn’t, really. Now I do.”

I didn’t say anything in response. We had been friends forever and it was a moment we both understood all too well.

I drove home to my son and daughter. Their au pair smiled and handed him over. He wrapped his sweet little arms around my neck.

“Mum,” he said. “Mumumumumum.” I cuddled him and I couldn’t recall those moments any more. The hospital smell from back then, even that flash feeling at his diagnosis when my world spun and I couldn’t make it stop.

I’m just a little boy’s mum. And I love it when he reminds me.


Kat Abianac is the owner of Kat & Fox Digital, a Wellness Advocate & online course creator. From Brisbane Australia, she is also a proud parent to two beautiful children. Follow her on Facebook or visit www.katabianac.com

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