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When Hayley talks about her daughter Natty, her voice carries both steadiness and laughter. It’s the sound of someone who has weathered shock, learned fast, and chosen to share what she knows so others might feel less afraid. Years ago, when Natty arrived in their Cornwall home, Hayley’s world changed in a single day. A medical team moved quickly, lights flashed, and hours passed before a clinician finally said the words “Down syndrome.” In those first moments, Hayley imagined everything she might lose: beach days, family holidays, a sense of normality. None of that turned out to be true.
Natty’s life began with hospital stays, a feeding tube, and two holes in her heart that needed surgery at age two. But she also arrived with a spark that refused to dim. Her big sister Mia, just three years older, became her first coach and cheerleader. The girls built a bond that grew into a book Mia later wrote I Love You Natty to help other siblings find honest, loving language. That book, like their family story, is built on small acts of inclusion and fierce affection.
Language became one of Hayley’s early lifelines. She began to notice how words shape perception and how a simple shift in tone could change the course of a conversation. She prefers “identified” to “diagnosed,” a small but powerful difference that defines Down syndrome as part of identity, not illness. Today she teaches medical students and clinicians to share news with compassion, to hand the baby to parents, to sit beside them, and to speak truthfully but gently.
Natty grew up surrounded by that same mix of care and courage. She modelled for a national Sainsbury’s campaign while still at school, appeared on live television with no sign of nerves, and mastered Makaton signing to support charity videos. What shines through most is her confidence, a kind of grounded joy that draws people in wherever she goes. If there’s music, she will dance. If there’s a crowd, she will introduce herself. She is hilarious, brave, intuitive and empathetic.
Now 18, Natty is carving out adult life with growing independence. She has a boyfriend, Olly, and a Saturday job supported by friendly colleagues. She travels around town with personal assistants who feel more like friends, planning social outings and karaoke nights. The family talk openly about relationships, consent, and privacy, mixing humour with honesty. Hayley admits these conversations aren’t always straightforward, but they’re vital. Independence, she says, comes through practice, not protection.
Life at home is busy, often hilarious. Laundry turns into fashion parades. Karaoke sessions spill into full performances complete with wigs and heels. Natty’s stage persona changes daily: Cher one night, Mariah Carey the next, and her secret talent, according to her mum, is flawless twerking.
Still, beneath the laughter sits determination. Natty recently completed her Duke of Edinburgh Silver Award: three days hiking, two nights camping, a year of volunteering, and learning new skills. When she finished, she looked at her certificate and said, “I feel proudful.” The word stuck. The family uses it now as shorthand for every hard-won moment of joy.
Hayley’s blog, Downs Side Up, began in those early school years when information felt hard to find and late-night searches often ended in tears. She decided to put everything she’d learned in one place so new parents wouldn’t feel alone. The blog grew quickly, winning awards and drawing a community of families and professionals. Over time, its focus changed. As Natty became a teenager, Hayley chose to share less of her daughter’s personal life. Consent came first. She now writes more broadly about inclusion, language, and practical support, always with Natty’s approval before any detail appears online.
In addition to being a therapist at Hayley Newman Counselling, Hayley also works part time with the Down’s Syndrome Association UK, where she helps manage external relations and supports the team who run helplines and resources for families. She sees the small but steady shifts happening across the UK: more inclusive workplaces, better awareness among clinicians, and a growing understanding that success doesn’t have to look the same for everyone. Through the charity’s WorkFit programme, people with Down syndrome are finding paid jobs with support from trained colleagues. For Hayley, that represents real progress: work that values the person, not just the placement.
Of course, some myths still linger: outdated assumptions about life expectancy, capability, or quality of life. Hayley answers them with stories. She tells of Olly stepping off a train in a pink tutu and beard, holding a homemade “Will you marry me?” sign. She tells of Natty calming a nervous stranger in a waiting room with a simple, “It’s okay.” She tells of laughter echoing through her kitchen, karaoke mic in hand, joy spilling out unfiltered.
These moments, she says, are not extraordinary, they are ordinary life, lived fully and without apology.
When Hayley speaks to new parents, her advice is gentle but firm: hold your baby, learn who they are, and let go of the idea of perfection. Therapies matter, but so do puddles, paint, and lazy mornings. Let children take reasonable risks. Teach and model consent. Celebrate kindness as much as achievements. Keep humour close.
Proudful, Natty’s word, has become a family philosophy. It describes not only her confidence, but the balance of pride and gratitude that sustains them all. It’s a word that fits the laughter, the learning, and the life they’ve built together. And if you ever find yourself looking for a mantra to stick on your fridge, that one would do just fine.
So, in a nutshell, this is Natty: a whirlwind of humour, style, and confidence, and the stories her mum tells capture her larger-than-life spirit. She has a mischievous streak that turns ordinary days into mini performances, from her jokes that echo through the house, to the way she raids Hayley’s wardrobe, stacks hats on her head, slips into high heels, and parades outside laughing. Karaoke is her natural stage, she’ll transform into Cher or Mariah Carey without hesitation, complete with dramatic gestures and impeccable twerking technique. She adores seafood with mash and greens, keeps a collection of wigs for impromptu shows, and once proudly coined the family’s favourite word, proudful after completing her Duke of Edinburgh Award. Equal parts glamour and goofiness, Natty meets every moment with warmth, self-belief, and a readiness to make everyone around her smile.
As Hayley looks ahead, she no longer measures progress in milestones or expectations, but in the ease of everyday moments: the sound of Natty’s laughter floating from another room, the clatter of high heels on the kitchen floor, the knowing glance between sisters who have grown up side by side. The future isn’t something to fear or fix, it’s something to be lived, one karaoke night, one adventure, one act of kindness at a time. So much of life once revolved around what others thought her daughter could or couldn’t do, yet Hayley has learned the joy of letting Natty define it for herself with humour, courage, and with that irrepressible word that sums it all up. Proudful, indeed.
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