One very special friendship…
When Tracy Austwick’s daughter Amber was born at just 26 weeks, her future was uncertain. But, with a friend’s help, Amber is now thriving…
People talk about the therapeutic power of animals, but I’d never believed it. Yes, everyone loves a hug from their dog or a cuddle from their cat, I’d thought, but that’s as far as it goes.
But I was wrong. I’ve seen for myself what a difference an animal – a donkey, in our case – can make to a child’s life.
I’d never been particularly maternal but, after marrying my partner, Julian, in July 2006, the conversation turned to children. When we started trying for a child a few years later, I was pregnant within a couple of months.
We both had twins in the family and, when I started showing early, we suspected there was more than one baby. In March 2010, at our first scan, the midwife confirmed I was carrying twins.
My pregnancy progressed smoothly. Then, when I was 23 weeks gone, I felt fluid trickling down my leg.
‘The babies must be sitting on your bladder,’ Julian joked.
When it happened again, the midwife suggested I go to my local hospital, where doctors told us one of the amniotic sacs had perforated. I was leaking fluid.
Rushed by ambulance to Birmingham Heartlands Hospital, I clutched my bump, terrified I’d lose the babies I loved so much. I was given steroids to help develop the
babies’ lungs, antibiotics to prevent infection, and was ordered to rest. If the babies came then, there was nothing doctors could do.
Thankfully, they stayed put until 26 weeks, but then I went into full labour. ‘ We’ll do everything we can,’ doctors vowed. But it was too soon…
On 16 June 2010, Hope arrived, weighing 1lb 12oz. She looked bruised but was breathing, and that tiny sign of life seemed like a miracle. Then, 20 minutes later, 1lb 9oz Amber was born, and the pair were whisked away.
Hours later, when we were allowed to see them, there were tubes and wires everywhere. The twins needed help with breathing and were wrapped in bubble wrap under blue lamps to keep them warm.
They looked so fragile that I was too scared to touch them. Later, we were told that they’d suffered bleeds on their lungs. Hope also had a hole in her heart and Amber had endured a bleed on her brain.
‘ We don’t know how it’ll affect her,’ we were told. But we didn’t care. The girls were alive, and that was all that mattered.
As days became weeks, Hope got stronger and was discharged, but Amber struggled. She was transferred to Birmingham Children’s Hospital, to have a tracheotomy to help her breathe. It seemed cruel to split the pair up, but all we could do was divide our time between hospital and home.
Eventually, at six months old, Amber was allowed home, too. I had to learn how to take care of her, including cleaning the tube that fed her through her nose.
Now, the heartbreaking differences between our two girls became more apparent. While Hope started smiling, then sitting up, Amber still struggled to roll over.
We’d heard about a donkey sanctuary near our home in Birmingham that worked with disabled children. So, in 2012, when the girls were two, we decided to see if sitting on a donkey might help strengthen Amber’s core muscles.
But our visit had a far bigger impact. Amber’s eyes widened as she saw the donkeys. When one of the larger ones, Shocks, came over and lowered his head, she reached out to touch him and her whole face shone.
My heart swelled. Because of the tracheotomy, we’d never heard Amber laugh or cry, but there was no mistaking her complete joy.
We returned to the donkey sanctuary as often as we could. Hope was in nursery by then, so it was something that was solely for Amber.
She had a very special connection with Shocks. We learned he’d been rescued after being found tethered to a post with a terrible skin infection that his owners had poured industrial bleach into, and left to die.
But Shocks seemed to be the perfect companion for Amber. He was so gentle with her as she sat on his back, pulling his mane and ‘riding’ him while a member of staff supported her.
By the time she was three, with extensive physio, Amber started walking. We were so proud. But, a few months later, she was referred to a new specialist who, on first sight, told us she believed our little girl had cerebral palsy.
Tests proved she was right, and doctors warned that Amber could face unknown levels of muscle weakness and developmental delays.
It didn’t hold our brave little girl back, though. She had regular physio, and we spent time helping her to learn basic tasks, like tying her shoes.
Then, one day, when she was riding Shocks, we gently covered Amber’s tracheotomy for a second. It forced air through her voice box, and we heard her laugh for the first time. We were so happy. We hadn’t known if it would work due to the scarring of her vocal chords. Afterwards, we got her a special speaking valve so she could communicate. ‘I love Shocks,’ she’d repeat.
Amber is at mainstream school now and, with the help of a classroom assistant, she’s thriving. We still visit Shocks once a month.
The twins are so different. Hope’s a homebody who loves princesses and pink. Amber’s a tomboy who adores Star
Wars and playing with friends. I can’t explain the beautiful bond between Amber and Shocks, but a donkey really is our little girl’s best friend. l Tracy and Julian Austwick’s book, Amber’s Donkey: How A Donkey And A Little Girl Healed Each Other, is out now, £8.99, Ebury Press.
‘Amber reached out to touch him and her face shone’