Our home wasn’t just a place; it was the heartbeat of our family. Three years of hard work and love transformed it into our home. We have always renovated homes and never felt attached to a place. Until this home, I don’t know whether that’s because we renovated it as a family (literally) During Lockdown in 2020 we all spent our days stripping wallpaper, painting getting stuck in to making this house feel like home.
But then, one Sunday in September 2023, we came home from a family get together to our downstairs looking like a swimming pool, Charlie our youngest just screamed ‘MOMMY THE HOUSE’ I was not prepared for it water was coming through the light sockets with the ceilings about to collapse. We then found out a push fit on our ensuite toilet had popped off! Once the first chaos was over, insurers called and we tried to clear up as much as possible the hope of help was promised. ….
”Our home wasn't just a place
Waiting on our insurers to step in and help sort out the mess left by the water leak felt like a never-ending ordeal. It was excruciatingly frustrating to witness weeks passing by without anyone showing up to lend a hand. In those moments, it felt as if no one cared. I understood it might not be their home, but this place meant everything to us, to my family. It held our memories, our dreams, and watching it deteriorate while communication fell silent was agonising.
but hardly any help came, Each day without any news or progress felt like another blow. Our home was crumbling, mould was creeping in, and we were begging for someone, anyone, to take action and prevent the damage from worsening. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, knowing that we were doing everything we could, yet it seemed futile.
When contractors finally arrived, it was a glimmer of hope, but that hope was short-lived. None of them seemed invested. Instead, their disinterest felt like a slap in the face. Their words, “This is too much for us,” “we are too busy for this job” were like a confirmation of my growing fear that no one really wanted to help. Months dragged by, filled with endless calls and tears, promises and promises that were never fulfilled.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we were passed to someone willing to help and do their job. It brought immense relief, like a burden lifting from our shoulders. They immediately told us we couldn’t stay in our home not only was there serous health concerns our whole home is having to be stripped back to what it was (looks like 2020 all over again) so they orgainsed a temporary house for the next 6 months.
I initially felt relieved but then the realisation of leaving hit, our youngest son Charlie really struggles with change and he didn’t really understand why we had to move as he has lived through renovations before. It made me realise this home didn’t just mean a lot to me but to the kids swell. Its their safe space filled with everything they love. So packing up and bidding farewell to their familiar rooms—it felt like ripping away a part of their childhood. Their comfort zones vanished.
Transitioning to a temporary place was rough. Everything felt alien. Making this new place feel like home seemed like an impossible feat.
But amid this chaos, we found a resilience we didn’t know we had. We embraced this new chapter together
It wasn’t without struggle. Tears flowed, and the longing for what we lost lingered. Yet, amidst these challenges, we discovered a newfound closeness. Our kids began to fill this temporary space with their toys, turning strange rooms into their own.
This temporary home might lack our old belongings or the familiar nooks, but it’s gradually evolving into our refuge again.
That’s a significant milestone—a month in our temporary home and with Christmas just around the corner. We’re nearing a conclusion with the insurers, and the possibility of starting repairs in January feels like a weight lifting off our shoulders. It’s a relief beyond words.
Admittedly, finding out we could only have a cash settlement was a bit of a curveball. But strangely, reflecting on it, I find a certain beauty in the idea of slowly rebuilding our home together as a family. It’s as if this unexpected turn has prompted a deeper contemplation—do we merely repair, or do we seize the chance to reimagine our space? Lets not build a home for new potential buyers…
I’ve always cherished our home, but now, the notion of piecing it back together sparks a different kind of excitement. It’s making me wonder: Should we consider changing the style, maybe tweak the layout? Let’s transform this house into our forever home.
This entire experience has given me a newfound appreciation for our home. It’s where our memories are woven into the walls, where laughter echoes in every room. I’ve come to realise I’m not ready to let go—I’m not ready to leave this place behind. So, let’s turn this setback into an opportunity to craft a space that truly reflects us, a space where we can continue to grow and create beautiful memories together.