I poisoned my baby boy
When Laura Richardson-smith, 25, from York, breastfed her baby, she didn’t realise it would send him into a coma…
Panting on the treadmill, I checked the gym clock and decided to push myself and do another five minutes. ‘Don’t work out too hard please,’ my boyfriend Connor, 25, kept warning me, worried about my pregnancy.
But I’d checked with doctors and they’d said that keeping up with gentle exercise would be good for both me and the baby.
I couldn’t blame him for fretting, as we’d been pregnant before, but I’d been forced to terminate at 22 weeks when we found out that our unborn child would be severely disabled.
As a couple, we were closer than ever after the utter heartbreak and had been overjoyed when we found out that we had a second chance to be parents.
The pregnancy went smoothly, aside from the obligatory morning, noon and night sickness during the first trimester.
‘It’s all worth it though,’ I croaked to Connor, as I lifted my head from the sick bowl. Our baby boy, who we named Theodore, ended up arriving a few days overdue, but luckily the birth was relatively easy.
And a day later it was an incredible feeling to finally come out of hospital as a proper family. ‘Just us three now darling,’ Connor whispered to me excitedly in the car home.
But our joy soon turned to worry when baby Theo began to refuse breast milk and started arching his back as if in pain.
‘He’s really short of breath, too,’ I panicked, unable to tear my eyes from my tiny boy. I tried to stay calm, thinking it might be normal newborn behaviour, but after a few hours, we rang our midwife, who advised us to call 999 straight away.
When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics got to work on stabilising him and were really reassuring on the way to York Hospital.
‘He’ll be alright, try not to panic,’ they reassured me.
As soon as we arrived, we were rushed into a room where medics did a heel prick test to determine what was going on.
The next hour was hell as we sat and waited for the results.
When they came back, we were told that little Theo had exceptionally high levels of ammonia in his blood stream.
‘We won’t be able to treat Theo here, but we’re going to rush him to Leeds Royal Infirmary right away where they have a children’s intensive care ward,’ one of the nurses explained to us gently.
It was then that the seriousness of the situation really hit home. Everything after that was a blur. We had to travel to the hospital separately from our boy which was absolute hell, but we knew he was in the best hands. When we arrived, Theo was already in the intensive care unit and was already hooked up to a dialysis machine to try and get his ammonia levels back to normal.
We were told that while we’d been on our way, he’d been put into an induced coma to try and stabilise him and give his body a chance to really begin to repair. I knew it was for the best but it was horrible to hear the word ‘coma’ associated with our tiny newborn. We weren’t allowed to sit with him but could see him through the window – it was heart breaking watching
his little body fighting for life. ‘I don’t understand what’s made him so sick, I just don’t get it,’ I said, choking on my tears.
What made it even harder was that over time, instead of looking better, Theo actually just looked worse and worse.
His body was swollen because of the medication he was on and all the wires and needles hanging out of him were like something from a horror movie.
I just couldn’t bear to see him that way.
Although eventually we had some answers.
‘It appears that your son was having trouble digesting your breast milk properly. It’s most likely that his liver hasn’t been able to cope with the protein in it which is why he got so sick,’ one of the doctors explained to us later that night.
My own milk poisoning my baby? I couldn’t bear the thought.
I was reassured that it was nothing we could have known about, but still I felt so racked with guilt.
Gradually, as Theo slowly improved, his health care team tried to introduce small amounts of protein back into his body with tiny amounts of formula milk which was supplemented with calorie powder, fed to him via a tube into his tummy.
After what felt like weeks, we started seeing improvements, although the happiness was tinged with worry as we had been told that Theo would need a liver transplant if he was ever going to lead a normal life.
Eventually we were allowed home, but we were constantly on edge, and as Theo started learning how to wriggle about, we had numerous trips to and from the hospital to put his feeding tubes back in the right place.
One day, after three months having him back home with us, the phone rang.
Hands shaking, I hung up and looked at Connor…
‘What? What is it?’ he questioned, his brow furrowing.
‘They found a liver for Theo…’ I whispered, shell shocked.
Jumping up, Connor grabbed me and gave me a bear hug. It was amazing news. We thought we’d be waiting years for a match.
But there was no time for celebration, as we had to get our baby to the hospital as soon as possible for his surgery.
He was rushed into theatre almost as soon as we arrived.
Kissing his little forehead goodbye was one of the hardest times of my life.
I was petrified that I might not see my precious baby alive again, but I just prayed that everything would go to plan.
After spending a few hours pacing the corridors, we were advised to go home for a few hours to get some rest.
Reluctantly we left, but knowing that we were just a 15 minute drive away made it easier.
The operation lasted a never-ending nine hours, but we were kept up to date with phone calls by the wonderful nurses.
When Theo finally came out of the operating theatre we were told it had gone ‘really well’.
The relief was so overwhelming and Connor and I both cried tears of joy.
For three months after the operation, our little one had to be kept in an isolation unit at the hospital – any small infection could have devastating effects, so we had to make sure that he was kept as healthy as possible. The doctors were amazed at how well he’d responded to the transplant and with every positive update I felt myself flooded with relief. ‘I’m never going to let this kid out of my sight!’ I half joked to my mum Elaine, 68. After what felt like forever, we were allowed to take our little boy home. It was a very special day. And now when we see friends and family who know what we’ve been through, they look at Theo in disbelief. ‘But he looks so well, he’s so smiley, you’d never guess there was anything wrong with him!’ they all say. And apart from a little fasthealing scar on his tummy, you really would never know all that he’d been through in his short time here. Of course he’ll be on antirejection meds for the rest of his life and we still have to be extra careful that he doesn’t get sick, but we couldn’t be prouder of our miracle boy. After everything he’s been through, the most important thing for us is that he’s been given the chance to live a normal life. And now Connor and I finally get the chance to be the best parents we possibly can – which is all we’ve ever wanted.