For some time, our family had been torn between the choice of staying in our own home, or moving to a council house that was better equipped for our disabled daughter Katie.

Last year, the council offered us a local house that had become empty. By the time we went to visit, we had already driven past many times wondering if, and that was a big if, we could imagine building a life in there? 

On the day of the viewing, I could sense the curtain twitchers as we pulled up outside. As we walked up the steep and many steps, my stomach was churning. Inside I was trying to convince myself not to like it, to make our decision easier. 

When they opened the front door I froze. My daughter Holly, on the other hand, skipped in. Once Derek was in with Katie, I followed. 

I'll be honest, almost instantly we could see the life-changing, practical advantages of living in this council house. When we went up the stairs there were three good-sized bedrooms.

I started imagining where things would go and what colours we could paint the walls. Holly and Katie had already picked a room - and obviously decided on a pink one.

Holly's wee face was a picture. This was an adventure to her.

We had a good walk around and the Occupational Therapist (OT) who had come along with us took notes and measurements and pointed out what adaptations would and could be done.

The small bathroom would be made into a wet room, the stairs on the inside of the house would be adapted with a chairlift, and we would have another bedroom, which we were hoping would finally mean that we may have some help at night - even if it was only one night a month - just to let us get a sleep (but that’s for another blog).

It must sound like the house offered everything we could ask for, right? Wrong.

We were concerned about the steps outside and quizzed the OT about how we would manage. Would we have a ramp installed? Would we have a drive? This issue concerned her too, but she was confident that something could be done.

After long talks, sleepless nights and another viewing, we decided to accept.

You may think it would have been easy, but we were angry that we had to give up our own home (because the council would not adapt it for us) and angry about the additional stress and pressure we knew a move would bring.

I felt that I was letting my family down, as I hadn’t been able to provide my daughter with all the support she needed myself. It wasn't the fight with the council that I felt I had lost, it was the battle to be a good mum - and that was what really hurt.

We signed up for the house knowing that it would be some time before all the adaptations  were completed, so we had to start looking into what we would do with our own home.

The estate agents all said we would be better off renting it than selling it, so that was what we decided to do. Thankfully, through word of mouth, a reliable family quickly fell in love with our old home and wanted to become our tenants.
 
We just hoped that we would learn to love our new home in the same way.