Every morning when I lift Maisie from her cot to change her nappy, I excitedly pull open the buttons of her baby-grow to free her warm little legs. I kiss her feet and tickle her thighs to see the smiles appear and the dimple creep onto her cheek. But this particular morning I wasn't so eager. I didn't want to see her beautiful naked skin stretched out in an odd shape on her side, covering the thing that was making itself a home inside her body. When I did see it that morning it seemed larger and more prominent and all those thoughts I had been trying to keep at bay came crashing to the forefront of my mind. My instinct, (us mothers definitely have one), was telling me that this is very serious and more sinister than what we thought.
I tried to keep myself busy while I waited for the doctors surgery to open so I decided to bath Maisie. When I looked at her happy little face and the way she was splashing so care free in the water and blowing raspberries, it seemed so surreal to me to know that there was something bad happening to her on the inside. Surely something so large and obvious should be causing her some pain, discomfort, differences in her mood and behaviours? What was going on here?
Before I left for the doctors I asked my husband for what felt like the 100th time, "she's going to be OK isn't she?" Hoping that if I ask this enough that the words would sink in and become true. The doctor examined her for a while in silence and then looked directly at me. He said that although he couldn't say for certain what the 'mass' was, I needed to go to hospital with her today, NOW. My head was screaming its bad, its bad. He rang through to Antrim Hospital to let them know we would be coming and could we be seen as a matter of urgency. He explained that an 8 month old baby had a 'considerable mass' and that he could feel its borders which were running from her mid-line, through her left abdomen and towards her back. Before leaving the surgery, my doctor rubbed Maisie's head and I knew from the way in which he looked at her that he knew something more than he could tell me. He tapped my shoulder and said he would be thinking of us today and it took every ounce of self control I had not to fall apart right there. When I got outside and the fresh air hit me, the tears started flowing down my cheeks and I struggled to catch my breath. I knew then what was coming but I still couldn't let myself say it.
On arriving at the hospital we were placed in a room for Maisie to be examined. It was after the third doctor who came to look at her that the reality and severity of the situation came to the surface. He no longer referred to Maisie's lump as a 'lump' or a 'mass', it was now a growth. He also said that we needed to prepare ourselves for the worst. With these words I knew it was time to let down my guard and asked the question that been haunting me from when I first laid my eyes on that 'growth'. "When you say growth, you mean tumour, dont you?" All it took was a very slow nod for all our lives to be changed forever. There it was. My little girl, my precious baby, had a tumour.
Following this it was a whirlwind day filled with blood and urine tests, an ultra sound scan and a chest x-ray to try and work out where the tumour was coming from and to get a better understanding of what type of tumour it was. It all happened so fast I felt like I couldn't quite keep up, and by 6.30 that evening we were admitted into the Royal Victoria Children's hospital with a course of action to follow over the next few days.
We were all physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted but our little girl kept us going. Despite having a long day, lying in a hospital bed in a completely new environment, meeting dozens of new faces, being inserted with a line, and even having a sock on her hand as a new fashion accessory, she managed to smile for us all.
No matter what was to come, we all knew it was going to be the strength, bravery, resilience and of course that smile of Maisie's that was going to get us through.
Our little girl, the fighter.
Wendy.
I tried to keep myself busy while I waited for the doctors surgery to open so I decided to bath Maisie. When I looked at her happy little face and the way she was splashing so care free in the water and blowing raspberries, it seemed so surreal to me to know that there was something bad happening to her on the inside. Surely something so large and obvious should be causing her some pain, discomfort, differences in her mood and behaviours? What was going on here?
On arriving at the hospital we were placed in a room for Maisie to be examined. It was after the third doctor who came to look at her that the reality and severity of the situation came to the surface. He no longer referred to Maisie's lump as a 'lump' or a 'mass', it was now a growth. He also said that we needed to prepare ourselves for the worst. With these words I knew it was time to let down my guard and asked the question that been haunting me from when I first laid my eyes on that 'growth'. "When you say growth, you mean tumour, dont you?" All it took was a very slow nod for all our lives to be changed forever. There it was. My little girl, my precious baby, had a tumour.
Following this it was a whirlwind day filled with blood and urine tests, an ultra sound scan and a chest x-ray to try and work out where the tumour was coming from and to get a better understanding of what type of tumour it was. It all happened so fast I felt like I couldn't quite keep up, and by 6.30 that evening we were admitted into the Royal Victoria Children's hospital with a course of action to follow over the next few days.
We were all physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted but our little girl kept us going. Despite having a long day, lying in a hospital bed in a completely new environment, meeting dozens of new faces, being inserted with a line, and even having a sock on her hand as a new fashion accessory, she managed to smile for us all.
Our little girl, the fighter.
Wendy.
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