‘Don’t be upset, Mummy’

After her little girl beat leukaemia, Katie Hannaford, 28, from Cleethorpes, thought she was out of the woods. Then she was dealt another blow…

Lying on the hospital bed at my 20-week scan, I couldn’t stop smiling as I waited to hear the sex of my baby. ‘You’re having a little girl,’ the sonographer said. ‘Yay,’ I squealed. After the appointment I rushed out to buy babygrows, booties and teddy bears – all in pastel pink.

My pregnancy went swimmingly and on 20 August 2010, my daughter Jeanie-may arrived, weighing 8lb 10oz.

‘She’s perfect,’ I whispered, as I cradled her in my arms, admiring her button nose and rosebud lips, and counting all of her precious fingers and toes.

But as we settled in at home, Jeanie-may was far from the calm and content baby I had hoped for.

Screaming the house down, she was never happy unless she was having cuddles with Mummy.

But I loved her to pieces – despite the non-stop crying.

In 2014, when Jeanie-may was three, I fell pregnant again. ‘Guess what? You’re going to be a big sister!’ I told her.

Her little face lit up and she giggled away.

Jeanie-may came to all of the scans with me and when her little sister, Poppy, was born, she showered her with kisses and was fiercely protective.

In October 2017, Jeanie-may had a week off school with sickness.

After three days it went away, but she was still very lethargic.

I thought she had a tint of yellow to her but everyone was saying I was being dramatic.

Dramatic or not, mother’s instinct told me to ring my GP.

The doctor examined Jeanie-may and felt she had an enlarged spleen and kidneys.

He quickly referred her to the Diana, Princess of Wales Hospital in Grimsby.

There, blood tests came back showing that her white blood cell count was dangerously low.

Pulling me aside, the doctor had news for me.

‘We think she has leukaemia,’ he explained. Not wanting to react until I knew for sure, I kept my emotions intact.

There was no point making a fuss over nothing – but I was terrified.

She was then transferred to Sheffield Children’s Hospital where they did a bone marrow test to confirm the diagnosis.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor said, having taken me out of earshot of my little girl.

‘But our suspicions were true. Jeanie-may has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia.’

I screamed and pulled at my hair. I just couldn’t believe what I was actually hearing.

The word cancer frightened me so much.

Just four years before, I’d lost my dad to lung cancer – I couldn’t lose my first-born as well.

Jeanie-may’s dad, Ben, 28, stepdad Luke, 32, and I sat her down and gently told her that she had poorly blood and that she needed lots of strong medicines to make her better.

We never used the ‘C-word’, but she soon realised it was cancer.

When she saw other children on the ward without hair she got very upset and frightened.

She had beautiful long, blonde hair which people had always complimented her on.

But she powered through it all, lost her hair and battled with the chemotherapy, managing to defeat the leukaemia.

In April last year she started maintenance treatment for the leukaemia to keep it at bay.

We were so proud of her and excited for her to begin to move on with her life after the gruelling sixmonths she’d just had.

Back at home, Jeaniemay, Poppy and I took the bikes to the beach.

She’s always been a sporty girl, and loves being active and on the go, so it was good to get outdoors again.

When we got home, she was exhausted

and complained that her foot hurt.

I put it down to the long bike ride and suggested that she lay down for an hour.

But every couple of days the pain would come back.

I knew it wasn’t normal, so on one of our weekly maintenance sessions, I explained to the consultant about her foot. They did an X-ray which was looked at by three radiologists who noticed something abnormal in her foot. ‘We need Jeanie-may to come in for an MRI,’ they called and said a few days later. The doctor confirmed that there was a growth in her foot, which was most likely an infection. They gave her antibiotics and set a date for the growth to be removed. The surgeon removed the lump and sent it away for a biopsy. The results came back two weeks later and to the doctor’s surprise, it wasn’t an infection – it was an extremely rare histiocytic sarcoma – cancer. From the minute she was sent for an X-ray I knew it wasn’t going to be an infection and instead something much more serious. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I would tell myself. ‘You’re just worrying like mothers do. She’s been through enough, she won’t be that unlucky.’ The secondary cancer had nothing to do with the leukaemia and it was actually a blessing she had leukaemia when she did, as the chemo is what kept it at bay all this time. Thinking the lump removal was the end of it, we were shocked when it grew back three times the size and began protruding from her little foot.

Doctors pulled me aside again and uttered the words that broke my heart more than either of the cancer diagnoses.

‘We’re going to have to amputate Jeanie-may’s lower leg,’ they said to me.

I sobbed my heart out and screamed for them to try anything else – I didn’t want to believe what I was hearing. She was so active.

Why her? I thought to myself. My little girl who had already been through so much now had to lose her leg because cancer had come to get her for the second time.

I knew I had to stay strong for her, and the doctor joined us as we explained the news to Jeanie-may.

She shed a few tears then asked: ‘Will I still be able to kick a football around?’

In July, Jeanie-may underwent the operation to remove her limb.

When she came around and first saw her leg she was braver than I imagined she would be.

She refused to look down at it for a full week post op, but the moment she did, with a physio by her side, she handled it like a superstar. She did every exercise she was given without complaining, knowing it would get her home quicker.

Since she’s been home she has come on leaps and bounds and is doing something new each day.

Her latest challenge was climbing up a slide. She managed it perfectly and the smile on her face coming down was priceless.

We’re now looking at getting a prosthetic leg fitted.

I can’t wait for her to be active again as I know that’s what she wants and it’ll make her so happy.

Just a year ago she was running around on the sand having the time of her life.

I feel like my life has fallen to pieces but I look at her smile and just remember how lucky I actually am.

She is so happy, she has a lot of love around her and she isn’t frightened anymore.

Her motto in life is to dream, believe and achieve. With that attitude she will go far in life.

She has such a big heart and hates seeing people around her upset.

‘Don’t be upset, Mummy, I’ll be okay,’ she always says, and I believe that she will – my little fighter.

Her courageous attitude towards it all is so inspiring – I’m so proud to call her mine.