Mother’s pride: The baby who stole our hearts
On Mother’s Day, mum Rebecca Hopkin, 31, reveals the courage, hope and friendship behind these amazing pictures…
‘Ican’t wait to know if it’s a boy or girl,’ I said, squeezing my husband James’s hand as we arrived for the 20-week scan of our first baby.
We’d decided to find out the sex. I was so excited about this baby, I wanted to know everything I could.
The only outcome I’d imagined from that routine hospital visit was knowing which colour Babygros I’d need to stock up on.
But the scan was life-changing.
There was something wrong with our unborn baby’s heart.
I could do nothing but cry as we were sent immediately to the cardiology team at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford. I prayed it was just a mistake.
But a specialist confirmed the original diagnosis. Our baby, a son it turned out, had a condition called transposition of the great arteries.
The doctor explained that the large vessels that carry blood from the heart to the lungs and to the body weren’t connected properly.
The bit I did understand was that, if we wanted to go ahead with the pregnancy, our baby would need open heart surgery as soon as he was born.
The operation had a 98 per cent success rate, but surgery doesn’t come without its risks.
I tried to enjoy my pregnancy. But while all expectant mums suffer anxiety, I was absolutely terrified. There were so many unknowns.
I went into labour on 8 May 2016 at The Princess Anne Hospital, Southampton, and, after seven hours, Billy, arrived. He weighed 7lb 10oz. A good size and much pinker than I’d expected.
But after a few precious seconds, I had to hand him over as he was transferred to Ocean Ward at Southampton General Hospital. Ocean Ward is a specialist unit for children with heart defects.
It was four hours before I caught him up.
He was dwarfed by the machinery keeping him alive. I wondered if he had the strength to get through the challenge ahead of him. I wondered if I did…
I’d made him a soft toy – a fox wearing a T-shirt that said, ‘I may be little but I’m strong’ – which I tucked into his cot. I truly hoped so.
We had to wait for Billy to gain weight before he could have the operation.
Our beautiful little boy, who looked perfect on the outside, was sedated to prevent him pulling out the wires and tubes.
James and I stayed at the hospital. I expressed milk to go in Billy’s feeding tube, we talked to him and changed his nappies. The intense love I felt for him already made what he had to go through all the worse.
He was eight days old when he had the 13-hour operation. A surgeon cut the two main arteries and repositioned them. They also closed up the hole in his heart. Those were the longest hours of my life.
When we finally got to see him, his body was so swollen they’d had to leave his chest open.
There was just some gauze and cling film over the huge hole in his chest, under which
his heart was beating.
Eight days later, Billy had an operation to close his chest.
The next day, I got to pick him up, but he was five weeks old before he was able to come home.
A milestone I’d longed for, but so scary and, if I am honest, lonely.
I joined some local mother and baby groups. Like lots of first-time mothers, we shared our anxiety. But none of them had been through what I had.
None of them could imagine what it was like to literally be able to see your baby’s heart beating in his open chest.
I spotted a group on Facebook for families of Ocean Ward, the ward Billy had been on.
One comment was from a lady called Sandie Farrow from Bicester, where I lived.
Her son, Sonny, was four months older than Billy. He’d had heart surgery at five weeks old.
I contacted Sandie and we met in a cafe on the high street.
To an outsider, we might have looked like any new mums with our shiny buggies and brand-new baby bags.
But the bond between us was deeper than that. We shared tales of the kindness of the nurses on Ocean Ward. The straight-talking consultant. The terrible vending machine!
We left that coffee shop firm friends.
Sandie and I would meet all the time. Sharing our experiences, comparing Sonny and Billy’s scars. ‘Billy’s wheezy today,’ I’d panic. ‘It’s just a cough,’ Sandie would reassure me. ‘Nothing to do with his condition.’
I went back part-time to my job as a PA and, on the day of Billy’s first birthday party, I found out I was pregnant again.
It was a surprise, but James and I were delighted.
Thankfully, Billy’s condition wasn’t genetic, but we had extra heart scans anyway. We needed the reassurance.
Our daughter, Poppy, arrived safely in January this year, and Billy loves being a big brother.
Life is busy, but I wanted to do something to help the charity Tiny Tickers. It’s an organisation which raises awareness and offers help to children with serious heart conditions.
As my hobby was photography, and I’d found such comfort in meeting another mum who’d been through what I had, I decided to try to make a difference.
On a Facebook group, I reached out to mums who had children that had survived heart surgery.
I was contacted by six mums with potential little models. It was amazing to share our experiences. They’d all had major heart surgery. Some are on the mend, a few may need more operations.
In February this year, we turned my living room into a studio for a big get-together. It was noisy, busy and amazing to share our stories.
‘Smile,’ I directed each of the youngsters.
Snapping away, I felt so happy. And relieved.
All of our children were survivors. Each one a miracle of amazing medical science.
‘ We are the Heart Warriors!’ I laughed.
Now, on Mother’s Day, I’m sharing the photos of our amazing children to celebrate and raise awareness. All are fighters, and all of them make our hearts swell with pride.