Why We Built the Support We Couldn't Find for Noah
I want to be honest about why Noahs Haven exists. It was selfish and selfless at the same time.
Selfish because I needed something that was going to work for my family. Selfless because the hope was always that what we built could give other people the same opportunity - families who were drowning, and the people with lived experience who just needed someone to believe in them enough to give them a job.
That's the real founding story of this NDIS provider in Victoria. Not a mission statement. Not a vision. A mother who couldn't find what she needed, so she built it.
What It Was Actually Like to Navigate the NDIS System
When Noah was about one and a half, Melbourne went into full lockdown. Five kilometre radius. Single mum. And I started noticing things - his communication, his behaviour, things that just felt off.
It didn't really surface until kinder, right before school, when suddenly there were expectations. Social norms. Communication. He would hold it together at kinder and come home absolutely irate, dysregulated, struggling. Because things looked okay in public, nobody believed what was happening behind closed doors.
That was the most isolating feeling I have ever experienced.
Two years of navigating the NDIS, the GP, the paediatrician, the school - every single one of them making me feel like I was making it up. Two years of fighting to be believed. Two years of knowing something was wrong and having nobody in your corner.
I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
What Was Missing from Every Disability Support Provider I Found
When I started searching for support, I wasn't asking for much. I was looking for someone I could relate to. Someone who got it - not just professionally, not just because they had the qualifications behind them, but someone who understood what it actually felt like to be in the thick of it.
What I found, over and over, were disability support providers who looked at Noah and saw a set of challenges to be managed. A file to be reviewed. A plan to be written and filed.
No disrespect to the professionals who have worked incredibly hard for their qualifications. But as a mum, what I needed was someone who understood the love I had for my child. Someone who got that I wasn't just a client - I was exhausted, burnt out, and desperately needed someone in my corner. I needed support just as much as Noah did. The support was for him, but somebody needed to see that I was drowning too.
I wanted someone who looked at behaviour differently. Who wanted to really dig into why Noah was the way he was and see everything he was doing as communication, rather than a problem to be managed.
I never found that. Not for a long time.
Person-First Disability Support: What It Actually Looks Like
Here's the thing about good support: it's not clinical compliance. It's not a risk matrix or a behaviour management plan that sits in a folder.
A good day for Noah is a day where he gets up, says good morning, wakes up with a smile, and wants to engage. He loves riding his dirt bike. He loves telling you everything he's learnt from books and videos. He's funny, and curious, and full of things to say.
But more importantly - a good day for Noah is the days I get an "I love you." The days where he makes the move to come and have that connection. Those days are everything.
For a long time, there were more bad days than good. More days without a smile, without a laugh. And when the good ones came, they were like a rainbow after a thunderstorm.
When we finally got the right people around him, those providers got to live in that world with us. They got to see who he really was. And watching him walk into an appointment with a smile - that was everything.
That's what person-first disability support makes possible. Not compliance. Not management. A person who actually wants to show up.
Why I Built Noahs Haven, and Who I Built It For
I worked in disability for a while before I started Noahs Haven, with previous studies in nursing and then as a service coordinator. I understood things from a medical perspective. But something was always missing.
I kept trying to push for better in workplaces and hitting walls. I was also an unreliable employee, always having to pick Noah up early, always taking him to appointments, always scared about how I was going to keep a roof over our heads. The system that was failing Noah as a participant was failing me as a working mum at the same time.
So when I thought about building Noahs Haven, I thought about both. The families who couldn't find real support. And the people, other mums, people with lived experience, people the sector had overlooked, who had the heart and the understanding and just needed someone to believe in them.
The moment I decided to go all in, I remember it clearly. It was May. I was sitting on my decking. I had just moved from the suburbs out to a twenty acre farm because I wanted to give Noah everything I possibly could. And I thought: if we're going to do this, go all in. Put everything you have into it.
So I did.
Noahs Haven started with a single question: what would I want if this were my family?
Not: what does the plan fund? Not: what's the least we can do? But: if this were Noah, what would I want the support to look like?
That's still the lens we use for every participant we support across Bendigo, Castlemaine, Heathcote, Kyneton, Maryborough, and the surrounding Central Victoria region.
What Our Disability Support Services Look Like Day to Day
The name says it all. Noahs Haven. A safe place. Somewhere you can turn and say: I need help. And we help.
In practice, that looks different for every person. Our support workers go into homes and help with everyday things - meal prep, domestic tasks, grocery shopping, getting ready for the day. They support people to get out into the community, attend appointments, access transport, connect with the world around them. No two days are the same.
For participants in Supported Independent Living (SIL), it means consistent support in a shared home - the same workers on the same shifts, week to week, so that trust actually has the chance to build. For families navigating complex behaviour, it means Positive Behaviour Support (PBS) that looks at what's underneath the behaviour, not just how to manage it on the surface.
When I look at behaviour, I look at it as communication. I am not here to manage it. I am here to understand it. One of the things that has always stayed with me is from Dr Ross Greene: children do well when they can. They are not openly choosing to do the wrong thing. It just means there is something going on that we need to look at. Our job is to be the investigator. To understand. To support.
Our staff don't show up to do things for people. They show up to do things with them — alongside them, at their pace, toward the life they actually want. They plan, prepare, advocate, connect with families and wider care teams, and genuinely show up. Not just physically. Emotionally. They get involved. They fight for people.
If we can change even one life, shift even one outcome, make things even a little more accessible for one family - that is everything.
If you're tired of dealing with NDIS providers who treat your family like a file number, let's have a real conversation.
Noahs Haven is a registered NDIS provider supporting participants across Victoria. Learn more about our Positive Behaviour Support support, or get in touch with our team directly.
Courtney is the founder of Noahs Haven and a registered Behaviour Support Practitioner. She built Noahs Haven because the support she needed for her son Noah didn't exist. It continues to shape how every participant is supported today.
