I refused treatment to save our baby
Ellie Whittaker, 21, from Chesterfield, was faced with an agonising decision: save her baby or herself?
Being a mum was my dream, and I was willing to go through anything to have a baby.
I just had no idea the journey would be filled with heartbreak, tough decisions and a life-changing diagnosis before I had my wish granted.
In April last year, I was rubbing my bump, thinking about the tiny little human that was curled up inside.
My boyfriend Kieran, 22, and I were expecting our first baby together.
At eight weeks, he or she was the size of a raspberry.
I’d experienced all the usual pregnancy symptoms – fatigue, morning sickness and severe bloating.
Then suddenly, one day, everything stopped. My symptoms disappeared. ‘I think something’s wrong,’ I panicked to Kieran, looking at my bump.
And sadly, my maternal instinct was right – we had lost the baby.
As the weeks passed, whilst we grieved, we continued trying for a second baby.
Really keen to start a family together.
Every negative pregnancy test made my heart flutter with fear that it would happen again.
Then in June, I noticed a lump on the left of my neck.
‘It’s really swollen,’ Kieran said, looking at it.
Straight away, I called my doctor’s surgery and spoke to my GP over the phone.
‘You don’t think it’s cancer, do you?’ my GP said.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I panicked.
‘Well, I’ve not got any other symptoms,’ I said. He booked me in for a consultation, and after checking my throat, concluded that I’d caught tonsillitis.
Taking my antibiotics home, I turned to Kieran: ‘Penicillin won’t work.’
I’d suffered with tonsillitis a lot as a child, and knew this was different.
When the antibiotics did nothing, I went back and forth to A&E.
They say when you lose one blessing, another is often unexpectedly given in its place...
And in July, my pregnancy test came back positive.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Kieran said, overjoyed.
Our rainbow baby. Whilst we were excited, I was so apprehensive after the last pregnancy.
Booking an early pregnancy scan at Chesterfield Hospital, we wanted to be sure everything was healthy.
‘Do you mind if I look at your neck?’ the consultant said whilst I was there.
‘If the lump hasn’t gone in a week, come back,’ he said. At the hospital, I had scans, tests and a biopsy. A blood test revealed I had abnormal white blood cells.
In August, a letter came through the post from Macmillan Cancer Unit.
I still hadn’t received my biopsy results, but straight away, I knew. It was bad news. My mum Debbie, 51, and dad John, 52, went with me that week to my hospital appointment. ‘I’m really sorry, but you’ve got Type B Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,’ the haematologist said. I couldn’t believe it. In the space of six months, I’d lost a baby, fallen pregnant and been diagnosed with cancer. ‘Because you are
I couldn’t lose a second child
16-weeks, we do advise you think about abortion,’ the haematologist said.
‘There’s no chance!’ I promised them.
I wasn’t going to lose a second child.
‘Your health is at risk. We aren’t confident to treat you pregnant here,’ they said.
And so, I was transferred to Sheffield Hospital, where they had a specialist pregnancy cancer unit.
Whilst Kieran supported my decision to keep the baby, Mum didn’t at first.
Her priority was my health, and if that meant aborting her grandchild, she would choose to save my life.
‘You haven’t ever lost a baby,’ I cried.
‘Imagine how guilty I’d feel!’
She didn’t know what it felt like.
It’s not that I’m against abortion – I just wanted to have the baby.
Eventually, Mum supported my decision, and was amazing.
At Sheffield, I was diagnosed with Stage 2A Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, meaning the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes in my neck and chest.
My consultant decided I should avoid chemotherapy during my pregnancy.
‘The baby should remain perfectly healthy,’ she said. The only news I cared about. ‘Let’s just hope your tumour doesn’t rapidly grow,’ my consultant said.
I was warned that my decision could be fatal.
But knowing that the cancer couldn’t get to my baby, I tried to enjoy my pregnancy as much as I could.
My sister Amy, 26, planned my gender reveal.
And when we popped the balloons, it was pink confetti. ‘It’s a girl!’ Amy screamed. We hired a function room for our baby shower, and I got little cupcakes made with the letter ‘c’ printed on them.
We’d already decided to name her Connie.
On Christmas Day 2019, I got the most special present from Kieran.
‘Will you marry me, Ellie?’ he said, as I opened a little bag, with a diamond ring inside.
‘Yes!’ I squealed, over the moon.
The engagement brought light during a worrying time.
As my bump grew, the risk of my cancer spreading across my body increased.
I was scared for my own life but I put my baby first.
‘We’ll get through it together,’ Kieran promised me.
Then on 18 March, we became a family of three.
At 3.36pm, Connie was born via planned caesarean at Sheffield Hospital.
Weighing 6lbs 12oz, and perfectly healthy.
The cancerous lump on my neck was so swollen and painful that I couldn’t hold her straight away.
But when I finally did, it was just amazing.
‘I knew I couldn’t let you go,’ I whispered to her.
Two weeks after Connie’s birth, I was due to start my rounds of chemotherapy.
A PET scan revealed the cancer had spread to my stomach and spleen.
I was now in Stage 3A. But I had no regrets. Looking at Connie, I knew it was worth it.
‘I’m not going to chemo next week,’ I told my consultant.
‘I just can’t do it!’ I cried.
I’d spent the whole pregnancy fixated on Connie, and now, I was scared of treatment, and scared of dying.
I couldn’t handle the emotional trauma.
‘I’ll give you one week,’ she said. ‘Any longer and you’re putting your life at risk.’
My first chemo session was horrible, and the second session left me in hospital with an infection.
Connie kept me going. When my hair started to fall out, I tied it in a bun and carried on fighting.
The Little Princess Trust kindly donated me a blonde wig, and Mummy’s Star sent Connie some handmade mittens and boots.
Kieran had to give up work to care for me and Connie.
His dad Nicky and stepmum Melanie were a great support.
Kieran and I were so appreciative for the financial help from CLIC Sargent and Teenage Cancer Trust, too.
In June, after five rounds of chemo, the cancer was gone.
‘You’re in full metabolic remission,’ my consultant said.
The lump has shrunk a lot, and I’ll continue to finish the 12 rounds of chemo.
I am so grateful for the incredible help of my consultants Dr Jivraj and Dr Morley at Sheffield Hospital.
Thanks to them, I beat cancer and had my baby. So lucky I got it all. Now, Connie is a really healthy and happy little baby.
She’s going through the teething stage and loves watching Monsters University on television.
‘You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ I tell her.
My rainbow baby guided me through my cancer fight.
I chose to save my little girl’s life, and she helped save mine.
My bump and the tumour grew