Sewing has always been something I naturally do on my own, a chance to let thoughts roll and run, as I arrange and sew old fabrics together and make something new. The time always flies which is apparently a sign you are having fun? Though that seems like a particularly hard-working adjective here. I drink tea, listen to Pivot, Steve Richards, sometimes Adam Buxton or Michael Rosen’s Word of Mouth. I make another brew. It recharges my mental batteries so I can be a better parent, patient, calm and attentive from 14.55 onwards when I am waiting for the school gates to open, and wondering what kind of day Nora had and what her level of overwhelm may be.
So it is something of a challenge for me, creating a sewing community at the back of our house, inviting people in, in all the ways. I could probably just keep sewing and enjoying these precious few hours with my own thoughts and lean further into my introvert. But sometimes - often, in fact if I am admitting it - those thoughts are muddled, full of worry and fear about parenting an autistic child who hasn’t found her voice yet. And the hope of the word yet. Throw in some shattered sleep and some mischievous hormones and it’s not always tea, tunes and positivity.
I had a recurring thought that started in the early months of 2025, that hasn't gone away and led me to patch works. I had recently completed my contract at the Guardian and wasn’t working - and feeling unfairly conspicuous about as I am learning that SEND parents and carers do - and we were in our second year of fighting with the local authorities who were trying to place Nora, our non-verbal, autistic daughter, into a mainstream primary school class of 30 children. I was ordering freedom of information requests on everything; how many children in Northamptonshire were awaiting EHCPs into their second year; I was drafting indignant emails to education editors at newspapers about the appalling state of education support for SEND; I was emailing the bizarre "charitable foundation" responsible for the ridiculous ‘school readiness’ report, flagging all the the ignorant judgements towards parents they lit a match to by not separating different issues at play. All the time, I was thinking about other parents around the country who were wrestling exhausting, frightening, frustrated feelings; who had slipped into a fight or flight way of living every day, who had also had to stop working because the lack of sleep, the battles with the LAs and the NHS had all become overwhelmingly consuming. Parents who slowly felt disconnected from their old life and friendships. The to-do list of a SEND parent is fast multiplying but every action usually has so much nuance and paperwork- and then, subsequently, setbacks - to it that you can only tackle a couple of things at a time. My recurring thought was that we could all do with knowing each other and having a good old chat…but i now know that we all have a tunnel-like determination for getting the right support for our child that we keep working away solo, maybe occasionally checking a parent forum we are in on Facebook for some advice. But very little real human connection. Finding your community - a way to help yourself be a carer - might not be top of the list, despite the importance of it for your own mental wellbeing.
During this time, my sewing machine, a hobby, was neglected. No time to sew, I was constantly fighting with someone about getting the right support for Nora. And when I wasn’t it was because I felt ill from all the stress and having a weakened immune system. I think it was around the time we finally got Nora a place at a brilliant school, that supported communication delays, that my shoulders came down a notch and I put my sewing machine on a table and started sewing a little. It felt good, taking my thoughts in another direction for an hour or so.
Creating a small sewing community is a small attempt to make things a little better, a little bit more supportive, creative, maybe even empowering for some parents who live near me. It has taken a while. and I was almost a bit embarrassed to share the idea to Kev initially because it seems so small, but I did and I am glad I did because it led to a conversation which led to planning and then putting it into place bit by bit. Little by little, it started to come together; a website, the bags, the photos, the story, the wee studio at the back of our house and the hardest bit: talking to people about it.
At the end of May, I invited three SEND parents from Nora’s class over, all mums. We sat in the sewing space and we just chatted with tea and cakes. No sewing although i did my five minutes spiel about patch works and the mission and i felt, as ever, a bit cringe despite nodding warm support and encouragement rom my wonderful SEND mum friend, Hollie. The 90 minutes flew by; we had much common ground and it was like a big exhale talking to people who completely understood it. We pretty much only get two minutes at the gate in the morning and we are all tuned into our child and how they are feeling that morning. But afterwards, I thought that I wouldn’t put any pressure on these women to come and sew. They had enough on their plates and I didn’t want to force anyone to do anything that might not float their boat. In my head patch works has a venn diagram formula: 1. being a SEND parent/ carer, being interested in sewing and 3. sustainability as patch works only uses vintage and repurposed fabrics. So, yes, a bit niche.
But last week two of them texted me and asked to come and sew - and some more small steps forward for patch works. Still lots to figure out about how I build this community but patch works is up and running.
Discovering that a parent who is stood next to you at the local trampoline centre or park is also a SEND parent is like a greeting a dear and precious old friend you have lost contact with. It feels like we have skipped forward, straight into specifics and absolutely zero judgement, only support. What I learned by having both women in the space last week is that there is an ease and an easiness in the company too. We clearly have this football-pitch-sized common ground with our children, and we can share gems of information the other might not have known that can make a difference to our child’s wellbeing. But equally, the silences felt easy too. i got to see a glimmer of what I imagined when setting up patch works; the beauty of community and quiet, creative repair on and off the sewing machine.
