Originally published on Notes from the In-Between — now archived here for those who prefer to read between the lines.
Prelude
The first lesson I ever learned about intuition wasn’t mine — it was my mum’s.
When she was six weeks pregnant with me, she caught Rubella (German Measles) from her boss. He knew she was pregnant. And yet he refused to take a sick day because money mattered more than people.
Her doctor listed the risks: possibly blindness, deafness, heart problems, or other disabilities. He recommended termination.
Mum didn’t ignore his advice. She listened, worried, read everything she could. Dad being Dad started researching guide dogs and special schools, preparing for what might come. Her friends didn’t know what to say. Her work colleagues whispered in the lunch room. Family circled back with statistics. Everyone had an opinion.
But as a woman of faith, she dug deep, and she knew it would be OK.
She even dreamt it would be. And one day, when she and Dad stopped the car beside a field in the English countryside, she opened the door and saw a four-leaf clover right by her feet. She took it as her sign. Not out of denial, or grasping at any thing, but because she trusted what she felt was true.
As it turned out, she was right.
I can see. I can hear. I can walk, talk, and breathe.
But isn’t it funny, the cynicism people can have? After I was born, some questioned whether she’d really had rubella at all. Maybe she made it up – because the idea of a miracle makes people uncomfortable.
Every year on my birthday, I give thanks for her decision to trust herself when logic and fear were louder.
I can’t explain why it all worked out.
And for a long time, I wondered if there was a catch – if being fine when I “shouldn’t” have been meant something else would fall apart later.
It’s taken me most of my life to realise the gift wasn’t just survival.
It was sensitivity. I have a built-in compass for the truth before it’s visible.
It’s how I help people now.
How I parent. How I love.
There isn’t a catch.
There’s just life – and the choice to live it well.
Until next time,
Katy
Originally filed from the In-Between on October 30, 2025
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