A letter to... My secret saviour
To my living angel,
Idon’t know your name or where you live – but to me, you’re an angel on Earth. You saved my life, and allowed me to experience the joys of motherhood. My husband Josh, then 30, and I were thrilled to be expecting our first child.
But I suffered chronic sickness, tiredness.
Then, six months pregnant, in June 2017, I started struggling for breath.
Hospital tests brought devastating news.
I had cancer.
T-cell acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL).
Specialists at Bristol Royal Infirmary explained that it is an incredibly rare cell mutation caused by pregnancy-related hormone changes.
I was in disbelief.
I needed treatment immediately – steroids to shrink lymphoblastic cells on my chest, followed by chemotherapy, radiotherapy and a bone-marrow transplant.
‘What about my baby?’
I wept.
Doctors explained the pregnancy could safely continue.
Still, looking down at the hospital gown strained across my bump as chemo drugs were pumped into me, I felt scared – and cheated, too.
I should’ve been decorating the nursery, throwing a baby shower. Instead I was praying. Keep my baby alive.
Josh was my rock, but it was hard to stay positive when doctors said I needed stronger chemotherapy after two months.
It meant my pregnancy couldn’t continue.
On 10 August 2017, our precious Freddie was delivered by caesarean at 32 weeks – two months before his due date. He weighed just 3lb 10oz, arriving with a squeak rather than a cry.
As weeks passed, I divided my time between chemo and the Neonatal unit.
I hated being away from my
Freddie. And was so sad that I couldn’t breastfeed.
Thankfully, he grew stronger every day, which gave me strength, too.
Then, in late September, amazing news.
I’d been warned it might take months – years, even – to find a bonemarrow donor.
But they’d found you!
As the donor scheme is anonymous, I only know you’re a man in your 30s, had signed up to the British Bone Marrow Registry.
My medical details had matched to you – and you’d agreed to donate bone marrow.
After radiotherapy, I had the transplant on 3 November 2017. Your blood, containing healthy bone-marrow cells, was pumped through a line into my chest.
I didn’t feel a thing. Stuck in isolation, I developed graft vs host disease, where donor cells mistakenly attack your own as well as the cancer cells.
Medics were sure it was temporary, but it made me lose weight, develop painful mouth ulcers.
By now, Freddie was home with Josh. And in late November, I’d recovered enough to go home, too.
Finally, we could be a family.
Now Freddie, 3, is a boisterous toddler who loves pre-school and never stops smiling. And I’m almost back to myself. Hospital check-ups ensure I stay cancer free.
Whenever Freddie runs to me for a cuddle, I feel so lucky to be here.
And I owe that to you. Thank you. You’ll always be my hero.
I only know that you are a man in your 30s...