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There is a deceptively simple question at the heart of the government's long-awaited SEND reform. It is the question every parent of a child with special educational needs has been asking for months, and the one Education Secretary Bridget Phillipson was still conspicuously failing to answer on Laura Kuenssberg's BBC programme just hours before the Schools White Paper landed. Will my child lose support? Today (Feb 23), we finally got the White Paper itself. And while the government is hoping that a £4 billion headline figure will drown out the harder questions, families looking for a clear commitment (for an honest, unambiguous answer) will search the document in vain. The semantic sleight of hand continues. The assurance that "effective support" will not be taken away is not the same as an absolute guarantee that no child will lose an element of present provision. That distinction matters enormously, and the government knows it. What the White Paper Actually Says Titled Every Child Achieving and Thriving , the White Paper does at least put flesh on the bones of what had been circulating in leaks since Thursday. Here is what we now know: Children in Year 3 or above currently will keep their EHCP until at least age 16, and those in Year 2 or below will be reassessed when they transition to Year 7. The new system will not come into force until at least September 2030, following a 12-week public consultation and a rollout beginning in September 2029. No child with a special school place when the reforms start being introduced in 2029 will lose it. These protections sound reassuring... until you read the small print. Around one in eight children and young people who currently have an EHCP will move to new support plans between 2030 and 2035 when their needs are reviewed. The DfE projects the proportion of pupils with an EHCP will drop from 5.8% today to around 4.7% by 2034/35. That is not a bureaucratic rounding error. That is tens of thousands of children. At the centre of the new architecture is a plan called an Individual Support Plan (ISP), which will sit below the EHCP tier. The reforms are expected to introduce a plan with legal footing for all children with SEND called Individual Support Plans (ISPs), and it is understood they will apply to children who have been assessed as needing specialist support. The ISPs will have multiple tiers ("targeted" and "targeted plus") and children will not need a diagnosis to access them, which the government presents as progress. Challenges to ISPs will be through normal schools and local council complaints procedures. Yes. Read that again. The legal route to challenge a decision about your child's support, which is currently through an independent tribunal, will (for ISP holders) be replaced with a complaints process run by the very bodies that made the decision in the first place. SEND parents will recognise this model immediately. It is the model that failed them before. The Money: Big Numbers, Hard Questions The government has led with the £4 billion investment figure and is hoping it does the heavy lifting politically. The breakdown is as follows: a new Inclusive Mainstream Fund worth £1.6 billion over three years, provided directly to early years, schools and colleges; and £1.8 billion over the same period to create an "Experts at Hand" service, a bank of specialists (SEND teachers, speech and language therapists etc.) available in every local area, accessible regardless of whether a child has an EHCP. A further £200 million will go to teacher training, and another £200 million to help local authorities manage the transition. £1.6 billion is a big number on paper. But as Special Needs Jungle's analysis points out, money alone cannot change an organisation's culture. And the previous implementation grant given to local authorities from 2014 to 2018, to implement the last round of SEND reforms, largely went to consultants and achieved minimal lasting impact. The government should explain precisely how it will ensure this time is different. NASUWT general secretary Matt Wrack was characteristically blunt, saying the idea that SEND provision could be adequately overhauled with "this low level of funding" was "ridiculous." Meanwhile, local government SEND deficits are projected to reach £6 billion by March 2026; a structural hole that the new money does not come close to filling. The Art of Not Answering (Continued) Before the White Paper was published, Phillipson sat down with Kuenssberg and was asked directly: will any child who currently has an EHCP lose their support? She could not bring herself to say no. "We will strengthen and put in place better support for children," she said. The government would "spend more money, not less." The reforms would "transform support for children and families." Journalistic scrutiny highlighted a key semantic fault line: the assurance that "effective support" will not be taken away is not the same as an absolute guarantee that no child will lose an element of present provision. And now that the White Paper is public, we can confirm that the semantic caution was warranted. The government has not given that guarantee. It cannot, because the document itself projects that a significant minority of current EHCP holders will transition to new, less legally robust plans. Phillipson said in the paper that the plans will take children with SEND "from sidelined and excluded to seen, heard and included." Fine words. But when Marsha Martin, who runs Black SEN Mamas (a support network for Black mothers of SEND children) spoke to ITV News, her concern was blunter: "It almost seems as though what they are putting in place might stand to exacerbate the issues that we currently have. All we have actually asked for is that there is better adherence to the laws by local authority and that local authorities are held to account." What Parents and Campaigners Fear — And Why the White Paper Doesn't Resolve It The Autistic Girls Network's CEO, Cathy Wassell, was among those who reacted to the White Paper's direction with alarm. She described the announcements as "a betrayal of the very principle of inclusion," adding: "Autistic girls often spend primary school masking their struggles. They only get identified when they hit the 'secondary crash.' Slashing support now is like removing a life jacket just as the child is pulled into the deep end." Her point about secondary transition is particularly relevant given what the White Paper confirms: those who do have an existing EHCP will have to have their needs reassessed between each different phase of their education. Yet we already know that in 2025, only 46.4% of new EHCPs were issued within the statutory 20 weeks. Forcing children back through an assessment system that already takes twice as long as the law requires, at precisely the most turbulent and vulnerable moments of their education, is not a reform. It is an additional hurdle. The campaign group Save Our Children's Rights called the reforms "an absolute disaster," warning that limiting access to EHCPs could leave "some children and young people with no legally enforceable right to an accessible education that meets their needs." James Watson-O'Neill, chief executive of Sense , welcomed the funding but warned: "A shocking number of children are being failed by a baffling and underfunded SEND system. Too many are falling through the cracks — at the cost of their happiness, wellbeing and future life chances. If their children's legal rights are weakened any further or there's an attempt to cut spending, the consequences could be devastating." Teaching unions also pushed back. Teachers' voices have been "conspicuously absent" from the decision-making, according to unions, who also question whether mainstream schools that are already overstretched, have the capacity or culture to become genuinely inclusive overnight, however much money is promised. There is also a social justice dimension that deserves more attention than it has received. Worries persist that parents with higher incomes and the capacity to navigate a complex system are more likely to secure support for their children. A tiered system with school-managed ISPs and a complaints-based challenge mechanism (rather than an independent tribunal) will be much easier to navigate for those with resources, time, and confidence. The families who fought hardest to get EHCPs are disproportionately those who can afford to. The families who will lose most from a weaker system are disproportionately those who cannot. A System in Crisis — But the Wrong Solution? None of this is to pretend the status quo is acceptable. The system is broken, and has been for years. More than £10 billion a year is spent in England, but children with SEND are still under-achieving, disengaged from education and disproportionately excluded from mainstream schools. Councils are projected to hold £6 billion in high needs deficits. Families are pulling their children out of school at record rates, some 150,000 children were educated at home in England during the last academic year, up from 92,000 in 2023. The case for genuine, ambitious reform of SEND is overwhelming. Nobody serious disputes that. But as education law specialists have pointed out, the whole reason for the growth of EHCPs is simply because they have been "necessary", mainstream schools cannot deliver the support many pupils need within existing resources. That is not a legal issue, but a factual one. Redesigning the legal framework does not change that underlying reality. It simply changes who is legally responsible for acknowledging it. The Question That Remains The White Paper is now public. The big numbers are out. The architecture of the new system is now on the record; EHCPs for the most complex needs, ISPs for everyone else, a transition beginning in 2029. And yet the central question that parents have been asking remains unresolved. Will my child lose their support? For a child in Year 2 with an EHCP today, the honest answer is: we don't know. They will be reassessed at Year 7. That assessment will be made under new criteria, by a system that is already failing to hit its own statutory deadlines, using a complaints mechanism rather than an independent tribunal if families disagree with the outcome. The government's answer is that the £4 billion will transform mainstream schools, making them so genuinely inclusive that fewer children will need statutory plans. That is possible. It is also, frankly, optimistic to the point of wishful thinking, given that a similar ambition underpinned the 2014 reforms — and we know how that turned out. Bridget Phillipson has said this is a "watershed moment." Perhaps. But watersheds can flow in either direction. And for the families who have already fought (and too often lost) in the current system, the promise of a better one in 2030 will need rather more than warm words and big headline figures to be convincing. The question she still can't answer tells you everything about why those families are right to be worried. If you are a parent or carer affected by SEND reform, you can find information, support and guidance on the new proposals at IPSEA (Independent Provider of Special Education Advice) at ipsea.org.uk. You can also contact your MP directly to share your family's experience, and respond to the 12-week public consultation on the new system when it opens.

When I first noticed Elias making his way from our cosy family living room gatherings to hang out alone in the kitchen, I'll admit I had a bit of a wobble. There we'd all be, gathered together (me probably overthinking our BSL storytelling technique), and off he'd go, determined as a miniature explorer setting off for uncharted territory. Except his Everest was the kitchen floor, and his motivation was... well, I had no idea. Cue the parental guilt spiral I'd perfected over the years. Was he upset with us? Did he feel left out? Had I done something wrong? Should I encourage him back? Was this "a sign"? (That phrase that haunts every parent of a complex needs child at 3am.) I spent ages hovering awkwardly between the living room and kitchen, trying to strike that impossible balance between respecting his space and making sure he knew he was welcome with us. I'd pop my head round the corner like some sort of anxious meerkat, trying to catch his eye. He'd glance at me with an expression that clearly said, "I was fine until you showed up," and I'd retreat, slightly wounded. Then one day, someone on his team said something that should have been obvious but felt revolutionary: "Elias is processing so much just to navigate his world; visual information, physical positioning, spatial awareness. Being around people requires even more energy. He might just need to recharge his batteries." Recharge his batteries. Of course. I thought about all the times I've desperately needed to escape to a quiet room after a long day, or how I'd rather have a root canal than attend a networking event. And Elias? He's constantly taking in visual information, managing his body in space, communicating in a language most of the world doesn't speak, and navigating a physical environment that wasn't designed for him. Why had I assumed he wouldn't need downtime even more than I did? The kitchen wasn't a rejection. It was his sanctuary. His quiet space. His "please leave me alone for ten minutes while I decompress from the utterly overwhelming experience of being a small human in a world that requires so much of me." What the Experts Say It turns out this is incredibly common among children with complex needs, particularly those who are deaf, have mobility differences, or have multiple support needs. The National Deaf Children's Society emphasises that deaf children often experience something called "concentration fatigue". The mental exhaustion that comes from constantly concentrating to gather visual information, lipread, or use BSL. They need breaks from visual processing just like hearing children might need breaks from noisy environments. Contact (the charity for families with disabled children) emphasises that every child's needs are different, and learning to recognise what your child needs, even when it looks different from what you expected, is one of the most important skills you can develop as a parent. They've got some brilliant resources on their website about supporting children's emotional regulation and sensory needs. The Council for Disabled Children also highlights that respecting a child's need for space and autonomy, even when it feels counterintuitive, builds trust and helps them develop self-awareness about their own needs. That's actually a life skill we're nurturing, not a problem to fix. These days, I've learned to read the signs. When Elias makes his way to the kitchen, I let him go. I check he's safe (our kitchen is now basically Fort Knox), and then I leave him to it. Sometimes he's there for five minutes, sometimes twenty. Sometimes takes a toy. Sometimes he just sits and watches the light patterns on the floor. And that's absolutely fine. I've stopped taking it personally. Well, mostly. I'm still working on not feeling a tiny bit rejected when he leaves mid-storytime, but I'm getting there. We're now in the process of making the kitchen more "his" space. Independent access to toys, comfy surfaces and clear sightlines so he can see if someone's entering the room (because surprising a deaf child is never fun for anyone). Here's the thing I didn't expect: watching Elias advocate for his own needs, in his own way, fills me with pride. He knows what he needs, and he goes to get it. That's actually remarkable. How many adults do you know who can do that? And on the days when he does choose to stay with us in the living room for longer? Those moments feel even more special because I know he's choosing to be there, not staying because he thinks he has to. Plus, I've learned to be more intentional about how I engage with him. When I do go into the kitchen, I make sure I'm in his line of sight, I check if he wants company (his body language is pretty clear these days), and I respect his answer either way. For Other Parents on This Journey If you're watching your child make their way to their own preferred spot and feeling that familiar pang of worry or rejection, here's what I wish someone had told me earlier: It's not about you. I know, I know; everything feels like it's about us and our parenting. But sometimes a kitchen is just a kitchen, and your child needing space is just them being a person with needs. Trust them. They're communicating something important, even if it's not in the way you expected. Listen to what they're showing you. Make it safe and accessible. If they've chosen a space, help make it somewhere they can safely and independently be. For us, that meant thinking about sightlines, floor surfaces, accessible storage, and removing anything hazardous at his level. Get support. Contact's helpline (0808 808 3555) has been a lifeline for me on the tough days. They get it. The National Deaf Children's Society also has brilliant support for families. And your local Family Information Service can point you toward support groups and services in your area. Give yourself grace. It takes time to understand your child's needs, especially when they differ from what you expected or what the parenting books say. You're doing brilliantly. These days, I sometimes join Elias in the kitchen, sitting quietly at the other end, doing my own thing. No pressure, no expectation, just two people existing in the same space. Sometimes he makes his way over and settles next to me. Sometimes he doesn't. Both are lovely. And you know what? I've discovered that I quite like the peace of the kitchen too. Turns out we're more alike than I thought. So here's to all our kitchen explorers, bedroom dwellers, and garden gazers. Here's to the children teaching us that connection doesn't always mean proximity, and that love means respecting needs even when they're different from ours. And here's to us parents, slowly learning that sometimes the best thing we can do is simply let them be. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go check why the kitchen is suspiciously quiet. (Spoiler: he's fine. He's always fine. But I'm still a parent, so I'll check anyway.) Got a kitchen explorer of your own? Or a bathroom dweller? Or a hallway inhabitant? Share your stories in the comments, we'd love to hear them.

Of all the milestones you imagine when you become a parent, celebrating your birthday in a hospital room is rarely one of them. As I head into my birthday this weekend, I’ve been thinking a lot about my first birthday as a parent – and how deeply it reshaped my understanding of just how important hospital staff are, not just to our children’s outcomes, but to our emotional survival too. Elias had only just been discharged from hospital after his birth and brought home when he caught COVID. That fragile, tentative sense of relief we’d been clinging to disappeared almost overnight. Instead of settling into life at home, I found myself spending New Year’s Eve isolated in a single room at our local hospital. No visitors. No family. No popping out for air or comfort. Just the hum of machines, the soft glow of hospital lights, and the strange quiet that comes when the rest of the world is celebrating without you. When the COVID passed, things didn’t get easier. Elias was transferred back to Great Ormond Street Hospital so his nasal passage could be re-dilated and his nasal stents reinserted. A necessary procedure – but one that landed us spending a night in ICU afterwards. If you’ve ever been in ICU with your child, you’ll know there’s a particular kind of fear that settles in your chest and refuses to leave. Rational thought exists, but it’s drowned out by instinct and exhaustion. All the while, my birthday was looming. I’d been agonising over whether to celebrate it at all. Friends had plans. Messages were waiting to be answered. I felt guilty for even considering cancelling – and guilty for considering going ahead. In the end, I cancelled. And thank goodness I did, because I spent my birthday in hospital, sitting beside my child’s bed. It was shaping up to be one of the hardest days of an already brutal period. And then the nurses did something extraordinary in its simplicity. The nurses looking after Elias bought me a card and a cake. A real cake. With candles (although we weren't allowed to light them). They came into the room and sang happy birthday. I cried immediately – the kind of crying that surprises you with its force because it’s been waiting just under the surface. It didn’t change our situation. Elias was still in ICU. We were still scared. I was still a mother watching monitors instead of opening presents. But in that moment, I felt seen. Not just as “Elias’s mum” or “the parent in bed space X”, but as a person. A woman having a birthday on one of the hardest days of her life. That’s the thing about hospital staff that often goes unsaid: their impact stretches far beyond clinical care. Yes, their expertise saves lives. Yes, their vigilance catches things before they become catastrophic. But their humanity – their kindness, humour, and small acts of thoughtfulness – can hold families together when everything feels like it’s falling apart. When you’re in hospital long-term, or repeatedly, the lines between days blur. Time stops meaning what it used to. Celebrations, routines, and normal markers of life fade into the background. Hospital staff are often the ones who gently remind you that life is still happening, even here. Especially here. For parents of children with complex needs, hospitals become a second home. Staff become familiar faces. They learn your child’s quirks, your coping mechanisms, the look on your face that means you’re about to crumble. They notice when you haven’t eaten. They remember siblings’ names. They ask how you are – and sometimes, they wait long enough for a real answer. That birthday cake wasn’t part of a care plan. It wasn’t in anyone’s job description. But it changed the tone of that day completely. It gave me something warm to hold onto in a memory that could easily have been dominated by fear and sadness. As I celebrate another birthday now – thankfully not in a hospital – I carry that moment with me. A reminder that in the darkest chapters of our stories, there are people who step in and quietly add light. People who show up day after day, often under immense pressure, and still find the capacity to care for the whole family, not just the patient. So this is a thank you. To the nurses who sing happy birthday. To the doctors who explain things one more time without impatience. To the healthcare assistants who notice when you’re shaking. To all hospital staff who understand that sometimes, what families need most isn’t another update – it’s a small act of kindness that says, I see you. Those moments matter more than you’ll ever know.

Find a curated collection of expert articles, guides, and tools designed to support you at every stage of parenting. Empower yourself with knowledge and practical advice to navigate the complexities of raising children with confidence. OurResources . Filter by Content Select Content Apply Filters Reset Filters Filter by Tags Select Tags Blog The SEND White Paper: Families Are Still in the Dark. The government finally published its SEND White Paper. But the one question every parent needed answered? Still unanswered. Blog What having a disabled child really does to a relationship It's not a lack of love that strains a reltionship after diagnosis; it's exhaustion, grief and doing an impossibly hard job Blog Why Inclusive Grottos Matter More Than We Realise A signing Santa. A child fully included. One small thing that made Christmas magic feel possible for our family. Blog Celebrating Parenting on a Different Path When your parenting journey changes course, so do your friendships. Here’s how I learned to grieve, grow, and guard my peace Blog Learning to Love Your Child's Solo Adventures How to help your complex needs child when all they want is space and solitude. Blog Why Speaking Up Matters An unexpected diagnosis can change everything. Why voices like Jesy Nelson's matter, and why no parent should face this alone. Blog Ruling Out the Worst When your child is non-verbal, you must rule out the worst before you can focus on the small. This is the reality of complex needs. Blog Grief In The Days Leading Up to His Birthday The days before Elias’ birthday are always the hardest. Grief and joy can coexist — and it’s okay to feel both deeply. Blog Why Hospital Staff Are Central to Family Care My first birthday as a parent was spent in ICU with Elias. But a cake and group of nurses reminded me that hospital staff hold families together Article BBC: Postcode Lottery of Parenting Early childhood, an important stage in determining a child's long-term future, is also a period that can get lost in our national politics. Blog Finding the Right Team for Your Child Finding the right team for your child is everything. When amazing people come and go, it’s personal—but the right ones become family. Blog The Hidden Weight Behind Harmless Questions 'Did you know before he was born?’ Some questions carry more weight than we realise. Curiosity is fine — but compassion matters more. Load More...

Explore our range of services at Complex Parenting for expert guidance and resources tailored to every stage of SEN parenting. From newborn care to teen challenges, find comprehensive support to empower your parenting journey. Our Services . At CPG, we provide a range of support services tailored to the unique needs of parents raising disabled children with additional or complex needs. Our offerings include: Initial Consultation . Access to like-minded parents, who offer advice, guidance, and strategies to address specific challenges faced by parents and their children. CommunitySupport . A supportive online community where parents can connect, share experiences, offer peer support, and find solidarity with others facing similar challenges. EHCPSupport . Strategies for effectively advocating for your child's educational rights and negotiating with educational authorities and healthcare professionals. AdvocacyAssistance . Guidance and support to help parents navigate the complexities of the healthcare, education, and social service systems, advocating for their child's rights and access to appropriate services and support. ResourceHub . A curated collection of educational materials, articles, tools, and resources designed to empower parents with knowledge and practical solutions for navigating various aspects of parenting. ParentalCoach . One-on-one coaching sessions to help parents develop practical strategies, coping mechanisms, and self-care practices to enhance their resilience and well-being. ContactUs . Want to know more? Get in touch below. First Name Last Name Email Message Send Thanks for submitting!

We are your dedicated support system, offering guidance, tailored resources, and a compassionate community to help you navigate every aspect of your complex parenting journey. About Us . Welcome to the Complex Parenting Group (CPG), where we understand that the journey of parenthood can throw up some unique challenges, especially when caring for disabled children or those with additional or complex needs. We are your dedicated support system, offering guidance, tailored resources, and a compassionate community to help you navigate every aspect of this journey. With our comprehensive services and commitment, we empower parents to embrace their roles with confidence and pave the way for brighter futures for their children. Together, let's navigate complex parenthood with strength, resilience, and hope. Ellis Reid - PR Professional & "Medical Mum" Our Values . At CPG our values are the cornerstone of everything we do. They guide our actions, interactions, and decisions as we strive to make a meaningful impact on the lives of parents and their children with additional or complex needs. Our values include: Empathy : We approach every interaction with understanding, compassion, and empathy, recognising the diverse challenges that parents face. Collaboration : We believe in the power of collaboration and work closely with parents, professionals, and communities to provide holistic support and solutions. Expertise : We are committed to maintaining the highest standards of professionalism and expertise, ensuring that our guidance and resources are informed by the latest research and best practices. Respect : We honour the dignity, autonomy, and unique experiences of every parent and child, fostering an inclusive and supportive environment where all voices are valued. Empowerment : We empower parents to advocate for their children, make informed decisions, and access the resources they need to thrive on their parenting journey. Resilience : We recognise the strength and resilience of parents and their children, supporting them in overcoming challenges and embracing opportunities for growth and development. Meet TheTeam . Ellis Reid CPG Founder & "Medical Mum" to Elias After my journey into parenthood changed drastically in 2021 I started the Complex Parenting Group to help parents like me, who need to find their village as they navigate complex parenting, and who just don't want to feel alone. Feel free to connect with me in any way you feel most comfortable, I am always open to chat to my fellow parents of complex children.