Almost 18 years ago I was documenting my first pregnancy under the pseudonym Preggie Prue in a column called Bun in the Oven.
I used an alias because I was innately aware that if something had gone wrong while traversing this new and unfamiliar territory on my path to motherhood that it would have been hard enough to pick up the pieces without strangers weighing in on my trauma.
But despite choosing to stay anonymous, I still had plenty of support from readers of our weekly community newspaper, SN Weekly, some of whom were the lovely crew running GV Pregnancy Support Service at the time.
They reached out to The News to introduce themselves and offer their aid should I need any throughout my pregnancy or after giving birth.
We started to tag the service’s contact details at the end of each piece I wrote, because obviously the main demographic consuming my words were other expectant families, new mums or people between pregnancies who found the stories relatable and might be in need of support.
It was 2007.
The service was well established and its staff and volunteers well qualified to help pregnant women and new parents having been running for 32 years already.
The promotion of this free service available to our whole community was a no-brainer to us.
The months flew by and gratefully my pregnancy and delivery of the first of three sons I went on to have in three years was smooth sailing.
I was fortunate enough to be financially stable and supported at the time by my children’s father and my family with whatever I needed, so had no need to reach out to GV Pregnancy Support, unlike many who are not as lucky.
Still, the service shared my joy when my baby arrived and delivered a giant nappy cake full of practical goods to the office for me.
Hidden beneath carefully arranged cloth nappies were clothes, a dummy, booties, wraps, singlets and a bib.
The topper was a teddy bear.
The arrangement was wrapped in cellophane and finished off lovingly with varying shades of blue ribbon.
In my post-partum cloud of borderline unhinged emotion, such kindness brought me to tears.
My son is now 17 and when I asked him this week if he still had the white teddy with the striped hoodie from the hamper, he was able to put hands on it almost immediately.
The service’s thoughtful gift was a touching gesture that I’ll always remember.
It was one I didn’t expect and didn’t need, yet it imprinted on my memory so fiercely.
When I heard this service would close at the end of 2024 if $100,000 couldn’t be raised by Christmas, I felt sorrow.
It got me thinking about how many Goulburn Valley families in a whopping 49 years of the service’s existence only got through their pregnancies and raising their young because of the assistance they received from it.
The number is probably impossible to calculate.
It’s almost half a century of help.
And it’s help for everyone — no referrals are needed, no Medicare card is needed, no aged-based or any other criteria are means-tested.
If you knock on the service’s door, asking for help, you will get it, and you will get it for free.
What a devastating thought to imagine it closing.
When you write for a regional newspaper in a town you grew up in and have lived in most of your life, it’s impossible not to take an interest in the plights that affect your community.
You’re aware of most of the services that exist and if you’ve never used them yourself, you know someone who has.
Everything feels personal.
As the service’s parenting support worker Natalie said when I spoke to her while on a job last week, it would take only 1500 people to donate $100 to give the service another year of life.
When there are around 70,000 people in Greater Shepparton, that sounds like a stroll in the pram.
Yet raising such large amounts is never as easy as changing your 200th nappy, with so many causes calling for a piece of your pay pie.
So, how does anyone inspire others to give a juicy slice?
The only way I know how is to donate what I can, and spread the word so that others who can donate more, might.
Supporting the supporters just feels right.