Fighting True-Life
My girl was a fighter from the day she was born
Kerri Paton, 27, from Aberdeenshire
Hearing the cries of my little girl as she was passed into my arms, I could have burst with happiness.
Looking down at the little bundle, I knew instantly that I loved her. Apart of me had been missing – and now I had found it.
Amelia was born on 27 November 2017, weighing 6lb 12oz.
Our first child, my partner Igor, 28, and I had only been together for about four weeks when I discovered I was pregnant – she was definitely a surprise baby!
With my mum Angela, 53, and Igor by my side, the whole room was filled with happiness.
Only when the doctors examined Amelia, they noticed little purple spots all over her body.
We were so happy she’d arrived, that it didn’t concern me at first.
But the next day, a consultant came to see me.
‘The spots could be one of three things,’ he said. ‘Birthmarks, a liver problem or most likely leukaemia.’
I couldn’t believe it – it was scary, but I wanted to keep my hopes up until we had an official diagnosis.
I was grateful Mum was there to comfort me.
I had no idea a baby could be born with leukaemia – it felt so cruel.
Amelia, Igor and I were transferred to the oncology ward at Royal Aberdeen Children’s Hospital for more tests.
‘I’ll be there as soon as you need me,’ Mum promised.
Amelia had all sorts of tests, including a lumbar puncture and an MRI. Doctors took her down for a biopsy and I cried the whole time she was away from me – it was a few hours but felt like forever.
On 14 December, we received Amelia’s results.
‘Amelia has acute lymphoblastic leukaemia and acute myeloid leukaemia,’ the consultant told me.
‘It’s incredibly rare to have two types – less than a 1% chance.’ Panicking, I went into shock.
‘This is my baby,’ I cried. ‘I didn’t know babies could get cancer.’ Igor broke down in tears.
‘She’s going to make it,’ he said, trying to be positive.
At that point, doctors couldn’t give us a prognosis as they figured out a plan of action – it was awful.
Phoning Mum, I couldn’t believe what was happening.
‘Amelia’s got leukaemia,’ I told her.
‘I’m getting on the next bus,’ she told me, there in the hour.
And with Mum there, I was able to leave the ward and go for a walk to clear my head. The next day, we were transferred to Royal Hospital for Children, Glasgow.
Doctors put a Hickman line in so she could start receiving treatment as quickly as possible, and she needed another lumbar puncture and bone marrow sample.
Because Amelia had two types of leukaemia, doctors made a specialist plan.
She would need chemo every day for the nex
