Praying for a miracle
On Christmas morning, I was planning my unborn baby’s funeral
Poking my bump, I didn’t understand.
‘The other babies were such wrigglers,’ I puzzled to my fiance Paul Allen. ‘I really don’t understand why I haven’t felt this one moving.’
I was 22, and pregnant with our fourth child.
I had Alicya, then 5, from a previous relationship, Angel, then 4, and 3-year-old Riley.
We had so much to look forward to. In four months, we were getting married.
This baby would complete our family.
I was desperate to feel it move, though, as I loved feeling them jiggling about.
I read up about it and discovered this could be normal in early pregnancy.
But I was relieved when it was time for my 20-week scan.
Finally, I could check baby was safe and sound…
But, arriving at Kettering General Hospital, our smiles faded as the sonographer stopped the scan.
‘It’s a girl,’ she smiled. Then… ‘I’m just going to ask a doctor to have a look.’
I’d been here before, knew it wasn’t normal.
‘Don’t panic,’ Paul said, trying to calm me.
But I knew this was something to do with not feeling the baby move.
When the doctor came in, his face said it all.
‘What’s wrong with my baby?’ I sobbed.
Four years earlier we’d lost our first baby – a boy – at 20 weeks, after the cord had got wrapped around his neck.
‘Your baby’s small and not developing as she should,’ the doctor said. ‘Will she be OK?’ I asked. ‘We’d suggest a termination,’ he continued, sadly. ‘It’s unlikely she’ll survive.’
I couldn’t do it, so I was told I’d be scanned fortnightly.
Paul and I left, clutching each other.
‘Come on, baby. Give me a sign you’re OK,’ I begged.
I tried drinking fizzy drinks, putting cold plates on my bump, anything to feel her kick. Nothing. It was just four weeks until Christmas, but, while the kids were buzzing with excitement, I just couldn’t join in the fun.
‘I know it’s hard, love,’ Paul choked, as he helped them decorate the tree. ‘But let’s try to keep positive.’ Another scan showed very little growth. Then I had another, two days before Christmas Day. ‘I think you should start thinking about your baby’s funeral,’ the doctor said gently. ‘I’d suggest a termination.’ I still refused an abortion. ‘I can’t give up on her,’ I said, and Paul agreed. Come Christmas morning, as the children excitedly opened their new tablets and scooters, all I could think about was my baby, lying in a tiny, white coffin. Instead of cooking a festive dinner, I slumped on the sofa in my pyjamas. ‘Are you sad because of the baby?’ Alicya asked, snuggling up to me. ‘Yes, darling,’ I whispered. They knew she was poorly. When I was 28 weeks gone, my doctor told me he wanted me to go to Leicester for my next scan. ‘They’ve a more specialist unit there,’ he said. That was an hour from us in Wellingborough. So, on 12 January last year, when I was exactly 29 weeks, we
made the trip there, and had a scan.
I wasn’t expecting what happened next…
‘We need to deliver this baby now,’ the doctor said.
I felt like the walls were closing in on me…
Doctors admitted they didn’t know if my baby would survive.
I was taken straight to theatre. As the darkness engulfed me, my baby’s face was the last thing I thought of…
When I came round, at about 11pm, Paul was by my side. ‘Is she alive?’ I sobbed. ‘She’s doing great,’ he whispered, nodding. I burst into tears. Sienna-lee had been born at 6.11pm, had been whisked straight to Intensive Care. ‘She weighed 495g,’ he said. A smidgen over a pound. Paul told me they’d put her tiny body in a plastic wallet to keep her warm.
I was desperate to see Sienna-lee, but it was the following morning before I was well enough.
‘She looks like an alien,’ I gulped to Paul.
Her eyes were still fused together, and her fingers and toes were webbed.
But she was still beautiful.
‘Mummy’s here,’ I whispered.
When SiennaLee was 4 days old, her oxygen levels dropped so low, doctors gave her only a 10% chance of survival. But she pulled through. I felt so guilty that I wasn’t able to be with my other kids.
‘But you need me, little one,’ I whispered.
I’d sing to her, tell her I loved her 1,000 times a day.
And at four weeks, I was able to have my first cuddle. Her tubes needed to be pinned to me, to stop them from pulling. But it felt wonderful having her in my arms. ‘My brave little girl,’ I whispered. Because of everything, we cancelled the wedding – we lost £5,000, but the money didn’t matter to us at all. I put my engagement ring on Sienna-lee’s wrist instead. She was so tiny, it fit her like a bracelet. ‘Your good luck charm,’ I smiled down at her. By the time she was 9 weeks old, she’d had 16 blood transfusions, correctional laser eye surgery as she’d been born blind, and a hernia repaired in her leg.
One thing was certain, she was a fighter.
Her oxygen levels were slowly reduced, and, when she was 5 months old, we brought her home, weighing 3lb 4oz.
Now Sienna-lee is almost 2 years old. She’s just taken five wobbly steps, is still behind physically.
We won’t know if she’s been left with any permanent damage until she’s older.
But she’s a happy, loving little girl.
We can’t wait for Christmas – it’ll be a crazy, fun time, with Sienna-lee in the centre of it all at last.
We’ve also rebooked our wedding for this coming March, and she’ll be the star again.
But then, she has every right to be!
In those early days, doctors told me to plan her funeral, and instead we’re happily planning her future.
‘We need to deliver this baby now,’ the doctor said