Naomi Bailie's story

I was in the middle of the biggest fight of my life: three days into an induced coma that would last another four weeks.

I was locked inside my own body, able to hear the voices around me as doctors fought to keep me alive, while my family prayed I would make it through. I recall my mum talking constantly about how we’d spend our next Christmas in New York if I made it through this one.

My husband shared stories of my six-month-old daughter and how she wasn’t allowed onto the ward due to infection control. Her first Christmas – I’d planned it to be magical, memorable – but certainly not like this.

We had taken her only the night before on her first ever Santa visit. Only two nights earlier, I had chaired a meeting of council after recently returning from maternity leave.

How could I possibly be here right now – fighting to survive? Praying to survive long enough to hold her again.

 

The impact

When I first shared images of my experience nine years ago, I was filled with heartbreak. I was grieving everything I had lost during my four months in hospital – my health, my independence, my career and the identity I had worked so hard to build. Losing my daddy so soon after my release, to motor neurone disease, only deepened that pain. It all felt unbearably unfair.

In 2017, bacterial meningitis changed everything.

Seven brain surgeries. A mini stroke. A tumour removed.

The aftermath left me with paralysis and a brain injury. I had to relearn how to walk, how to talk, how to live again. And I won’t soften it – it devastated me.

Not being able to continue my family life in the way I had known, or have more children like we had planned, broke me. Having to give up the career in politics that I loved destroyed me. I had treated it like the vocation it was my whole adult life. How was I ever going to survive living this new version of life?

There were moments I didn’t recognise my own life. But with time, something shifted. It’s taken a lot of time.

 

Finding strength

Pride.

I’m proud of the strength that experience demanded of me. Proud of the resilience I didn’t know I had. Proud that I kept going through fear, pain, uncertainty and grief.

Learning to walk and talk again showed me that when something matters enough, I will find a way.

The psychological recovery was just as profound. Rebuilding meant facing everything I had lost – and choosing, slowly and painfully, to build again. Not the same life, but a new one.

The people who carried me

And I have never done it alone.

My husband has been my constant – steady, loving, unwavering – even on the days I barely recognised myself. His strength carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. My mother was a tower of strength; watching her deal with an equally devastating situation and care for my terminally ill daddy made me all the more determined to survive and be strong, just as she had to be.

And my little girl… she came into my life just months before I became ill, and she has been my reason ever since. She gave me purpose on the hardest days, and being her mummy is, without question, my greatest achievement. She is my light.

 

Grief and perspective

And then there is grief.

It never fully leaves, but I am so grateful for the memories I have of my daddy – his strength, his humour, his love. I carry him with me every single day.

Now, when I speak about this really difficult period, I don’t just think of loss. I think of survival. Of strength. And I think of everything it took to rebuild my life.

Here’s to resilience. To growth. And to the quiet power of starting over.

Why sharing stories matters

Sharing my story matters because meningitis changed my life in an instant. One moment, I was a new mum, planning my baby’s first Christmas and returning to work, and the next, I was fighting for my life in an induced coma. That experience took so much from me – my health, my independence, and the identity I had built – but it also showed me the strength of the human spirit and the importance of hope.

By sharing what I went through, I want to raise awareness of how quickly meningitis can strike, so others recognise the signs and act fast. I also want to give comfort to anyone facing a similar journey – that even in the darkest moments, survival is possible, and life can be rebuilt.

Most importantly, I share my story for my daughter and my family, as a reminder of how close we came to losing everything, and how precious every moment is.

 

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