Showing posts with label tulip tale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tulip tale. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 6, 2019

Tulip Tales: Trent

You guys! I am excited to share a new Tulip Tale with you all today, and I have several more in the works! This series really is my favourite thing about my blog. I just love being able to share the stories of these remarkable children and families. I read them over and over because they are all unique and all so important. I am continually encouraged and challenged to share my own personal story - to share a glimpse through the window of special needs parenting, but it is in reading the stories of other parents that I find comfort and learn so much.

Trent Gerald James Vincent was born on December 4th, 2012, in Corner Brook, Newfoundland. His Mom, Abby shares his story.
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With a seemingly healthy pregnancy, I gave birth just one day before my due date and was sent home with a "perfectly healthy" baby boy. We had no reason to think there was anything wrong.. until there was.


When I look back on the day of my delivery, I remember the overwhelming rush of love and pride along with a sudden worry of knowing that something was just not right. I remember being shunned during my labour pains for being "a baby having a baby". At just 15 years of age and about to deliver a baby of my own, I felt that I was not being taken seriously. When I was 9 cm dilated, my body began to push and I knew it was time for Trent to make his arrival. The next thing I knew, I was getting an epidural to relax me as we waited for the doctor to finish up a meeting. This was 14 hours after first arriving at the hospital so naturally my body was drained and I had fallen asleep. The doctor finally arrived and said it was time for me to start pushing. I was tired, weak and though I tried as hard as I could, the baby was just not moving. With the help of the doctor's foot on the hospital bed and a vacuum extraction, with a few tugs he was out. He did not cry. He was blue, grey and lifeless. He did not suck from a bottle and did not make a sound. I felt in my heart that there was something wrong but I kept being told that he was perfectly healthy and that we were "lucky" because he was a very content and quiet baby. With that, we were released from the hospital. 

As the days went on there was still no improvement. I remember the long nights trying to feed Trent his bottles - it would take multiple hours just to get two ounces into him, and he spent ninety percent of the day sleeping. He did not cry when he was hungry or had a dirty diaper, he simply slept. Being a worried first time mom, I set alarms to feed Trent regularly, making sure he would not go hungry or dehydrated. 


When he was two months old, I was feeding Trent his bottle when I felt him become more lethargic than usual. I immediately took the bottle from his mouth and tried to get some movement out of him. He wasn't responding. He turned completely blue and was lifeless. I jumped up and screamed to my fiancé and we rushed to the hospital with our baby in my arms. I was hysterical. I could feel my little boy fading away from me. We were told that he had choked on his milk and that he has acid reflux, but my motherly instincts kicked in and I demanded they do more testing before sending us back home. 

After an EEG, the doctor came running back to the room in a panic. His brain scan showed seizure activity and we were airlifted to the Janeway Children's Hospital within the hour. The most terrifying moment in my life was the day we were told our little boy would be in a vegetative state and there was nothing they could do to help him. They told us that we should prepare ourselves for the worst. Trent was diagnosed with epilepsy and global developmental delay. After spending a few months at the Janeway doing more testing and talking to specialists about our new life with Trent, we were once again sent home, feeling defeated and even more confused as to how this could happen to my little baby. 


Trent has brought us closer as a family. We only want the best for him, to make sure he has as much support and love that he needs and we are determined to push through every obstacle together. Trent is a wonderful big brother to his two year old brother, Jack, and as you can see, there is a lot of love shared between them!


Beating the odds, Trent is now six years old and is still our pride and joy. He is such a happy, content and loving little boy. He continues to brighten our world and teach us the true meaning of life each and every day! Although the past six years have been a struggle from multiple therapy appointments, doctors appointments, ISSP meetings, checkups, numerous phone calls, and the constant battle for inclusion services, I can not imagine life without him. We face new obstacles every day as he grows and gets bigger, but we do so with a smile. Our main goal is to give our son the best life possible, as he has made our lives so full. Who knew someone so small could impact and brighten your life in such a drastic way! I am so thankful to be his Mom!


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Thank you so much, Abby for sharing your son's story! He is such a beautiful boy, and reminds me so much of my own son, Brennen. I remember how hard it was in those early days, shortly after Brennen was born. I just knew in my gut that something was wrong, but no one took me seriously either, and like you, I remember feeling so helpless and so alone and I would never, ever want to go back to that place. It is difficult to imagine, when you are in the thick of such a trying time, that things are going to work out and that you will find any sense of peace. It is amazing what we as mothers are capable of. Our strength and resilience are unwavering, fueled by our intense love for our children. Over the past fourteen years, I have learned a lot about myself as a mother. I have also learned a lot about grief and acceptance, the awareness they can bring, along with a distinct gratitude for the life we are living.

Abby, I am happy to see that you have a loving family around you for support, but know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I am here.  

* If you would like to be featured on Tulip Tales, please email me at: juliebrocklehurst@hotmail.com  

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Tulip Tales: Jade

Happy 2018, everyone! I'm not much of a New Year's resolution girl, but I do believe in optimistically moving forward - feeling gratitude for the wonderful people in my life, and holding a deep appreciation for everything we have been through to get us to this point.

I am so happy that my first post of this new year is a Tulip Tale! 

I was recently connected with another Mom named Julie, and our name is not the only thing we have in common. When we were first introduced, Julie was spending some time at the Janeway with her sweet baby girl. Julie has been very open in sharing her daughter's story, and I am thrilled that she was willing to share it here on my blog as well. Julie and her family have been through a lot this past year, but she is strong and she has a beautiful, positive attitude. Sometimes, life really tests us, but there is a lot to be said for acknowledging our grief and pain and moving forward with courage. 

I believe that sharing our stories is one of the most powerful ways to heal, and I thank you, Julie, for sharing your story here.

*****

Hi, I’m Julie Seaward, and I’m going to tell you the story of my daughter, Jade - our 'Christmas Miracle' of 2016.


My boyfriend, Kenny and I were excited to start our family. We already had names picked out! In February of 2016, we got our positive pregnancy test! Everyone was so excited. My family, coworkers and friends were so supportive. They all came to the gatherings, and when we found out we where having a little princess, all of our friends showered us with gifts and love. On November 7th, 2016, at 7:07 pm, Jade Lillian Williams was born! The emotions that came over me were so powerful. I finally got to meet this little person who I'd felt kicking inside me for the past several months! It was instant love.


Before leaving the hospital, a nurse did a full check-up and said that Jade was fine.. but that wasn't the case. When Jade was just nine days old, I began to notice that she wasn't acting right. She was sleeping all day and not waking up to eat. I followed my motherly instincts and brought her back to the hospital where she was born, but they shunned us away, saying, "She's fine."

Two days later, she started having seizures. It was so scary. We rushed to the car to get to the hospital. Where we live, we are about an hour and a half away from the Janeway Children's Hospital. The closest hospital to us is a 45 minute drive away, so we choose the closer hospital for her sake. When we got there, just before I laid her on the bed, she coded in my arms. She went blue. This was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. And then, the realization that if we had decided to go the the Janeway, we would have lost her half way there.


The emergency crew did everything they could to keep her alive. She was barely hanging on, and no one knew why she was so sick. They called the air ambulance to come get her, but we had to wait 12 hours because of the weather. During that time, we blessed our child, and just hoped that she would pull through.

Finally, the medevac team came and took Jade to the Janeway, and I was right behind them. They told me I wouldn’t be able to see her right away, as they needed to do some tests, and they warned me that when I did see her, it wouldn't be a happy sight. When we were finally able to see our daughter again, as we walked into the room, my heart broke. Every inch of her was covered with tubes, IVs, monitors, etc. I wasn’t even allowed to hold her.


During this time, we still had no answers. It took days for the test results to come back. Then one morning we were called for a meeting. The results where in.

Our whole family was there in a room with 8 doctors. They told us that Jade had Meningitis - an infection of the membranes covering the brain and spinal cord. Jade had contracted a rare form of the disease called Haemophilus Influenzae Bacterial Meningitis. The Neurologist said he hadn’t seen this kind of Meningitis for over twenty years, and that child had died before they could do much testing to learn anything from it. Jade was writing her own story. They were documenting everything and sending her samples all across Canada. The infection was building up quickly in Jade's brain. They hooked her up to different antibiotics, hoping they would slow the spread of the infection, and eventually stop the damage it was causing. It took a couple of days until they finally found the right antibiotic to help her.

On November 18th, we got called again. This time it sounded very serious. I was so scared, I didn’t want to meet with the doctors. I didn’t want to hear the words I thought they where going to say, but I had to go, and my family was there as my support.

This time, as we all walked in, I saw 12 doctors and nurses in the room and I froze. I knew it wasn’t good. As I sat down, they struggled to talk, knowing the news was going to be difficult to say. Finally, the Neurologist told me that when Jade was just 9 days old, when she coded in my arms, it was from the Meningitis, and this caused her to have a catastrophic stroke, taking out half of Jade's brain. He then said that they couldn’t get the infection under control fast enough, and the Meningitis had destroyed the other half of her brain. Jade only has 5-10% brain function left. Everyone in the room was speechless. At the time, I didn’t understand what that would mean for my daughter until he explained that she was likely not going to make it.


My world crashed down around me. I didn’t eat, didn't sleep or talk for days. I lashed out at people who loved me. I just didn’t understand why this was happening to me. Why Jade?! All I could do was hold my daughter as I cried.

Weeks went by and soon it was Christmas time. The doctor said, "Come with me please. We have bad news. Do you want to sign a DNR?"

Our hearts broke. I went in and held my little girl and told her it was ok to let go. She was very weak. Kenny and I didn’t want Jade to suffer, so we did sign the DNR. We wanted Jade to fly back home with the Christmas angels, if that was what she wanted.


The next morning, I called Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, an organization that takes pictures of babies that will soon pass. Santa came. He loved Jade so much and gave her a special teddy bear for being so strong. Lots of pictures where taken. Our whole family came together as I held Jade. We took photos together, and then we took her breathing tube out. No mother should have to do that. I was trying to be strong through my tears. Jade struggled to breathe and I started to sing to her the song “You’ll be in my Heart", from Tarzan:

"For one so small, you seem so strong. My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. 
This bond between us can’t be broken. I will be here, don’t you cry."

After about 5 minutes, we thought she was gone, but Jade grabbed my finger with so much strength and love - she was telling me she wasn’t ready to go. Kenny and I held our fighting baby girl for 48 hours, and she was breathing on her own! The doctors couldn’t believe it. Right then and there, we took off the DNR order. If Jade wanted to fight to stay with us, I would do everything in my power to help her do so. It was a Christmas miracle! Jade was alive to see her first Christmas! The NICU announced her as 2016's miracle baby.

On January 12th,  2017, we were sent home with our precious baby girl. We know that Jade's life will be full of struggles, as it has been for the past year. She is diagnosed with cerebral palsy, she has a visual impairment and has many seizures a day. She can no longer eat by mouth. She currently has an NG tube, and will go for surgery at the end of January to have a G-tube inserted.

We don't know what other surgeries she might have to face in the future, but in saying all of that, my daughter is amazing. She is a wonderful, happy baby who can see, hear, smile and laugh! With such little brain function, we don’t understand how it’s possible, but she understands certain things and she recognizes my voice and responds to touch, sounds and colours.

The first time Jade laughed, our whole house was in tears. It was a deep belly laugh (she was laughing at her Poppy whistling)!


So here we are, one year later, and Jade just spent her first Christmas at home! Jade may always have challenges, but she is here, and she is happy, and she's not going down without a fight. This child touches everyone around her and she is teaching me so much about life and how people often take the small things for granted. To someone else, a smile may be no big deal, but I have learned to appreciate everything my child can do. The human brain is a magical thing.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Tulip Tales: Zander and Lyndon

Several months ago, I shared the heart-breaking story of a precious baby boy named Billy (see HERE), who left this world entirely too soon. Billy was one of a triplet, and today, his mother, Adina shares the continuation of her story and introduces us to her two boys, Zander and Lyndon.

***** 

"Some people never get to meet their super heroes. I gave birth to mine."

My heroes are my sons, Zander and Lyndon, who were born at 25 weeks + 4 days, weighing in at 1 lb 9 ounces and 1 lb 4 ounces respectively.

I met them 6 hours after they were delivered. Both were lying in an isolette, wrapped in plastic and with wires coming out of them everywhere. I wanted more than anything to pick them up, to kiss them and snuggle them. Instead, I stood by their bedsides and cried silent tears, trying to not see all the wires and only see my precious baby boys. They were a dark purple in color, like a plum, and were the tiniest things I had ever seen. My heart longed for them. I wanted to make them all better. I felt so helpless, I didn't even know if I could touch them.

Jill and Vicky, the boys' nurses that day were amazing. They gave me space but instinctively knew when I needed answers. I was told that their isolettes were mimicking my uterus - the temperature was set to mid to high 30's and was kept moist. It would be covered for the majority of the time to keep it dark for them.

And the wires. Each one just as important as the last. A feeding tube was in their nose, a breathing tube in their mouth. Then from the belly button were two lines that were monitoring blood pressure and flow. On their chest were three white circles that held the leads in place. Leads monitored their heart rate, respiration and pulse.

I was terrified seeing all of those lines and tubes. And the beeps coming from the monitors were some of the scariest sounds I've ever heard. I was told to ignore the beeps and unless someone came running then everything was ok, but ignoring those sounds was not easy. I heard them in my sleep for months to come.


When I reached inside Lyndon's isolette to touch him for the first time, I was shaking. I didn't want to hurt him and thought for sure I could break him, he was that tiny. His skin was sticky and warm to the touch. His body was covered in a layer of hair. His right eye was fused shut but his left eye was open. His hair was as dark as coal, as was his eye. He was beautiful. Zander felt much the same and seemed to have even more hair covering his body. He had both eyes open and was just as beautiful as his brother. I didn't keep the isolette open for long, I didn't want all of the heat to escape. I sat by their bedsides and stared at them, praying for them to be ok.

On the fifth day of our NICU journey, I was finally able to hold Zander. It took two nurses and an RT to safely get him out of his isolette and onto my chest. Once he was settled and his vitals were good, everyone relaxed and I enjoyed every second of that first snuggle. My heart was so full of love I thought it would burst. It was the best feeling and a moment that I will never forget.

Two days later, the boys turned a week old and I got to hold Lyndon for the first time. His little body snuggled up against mine and all was right with the world. Lyndon opened both eyes that day as well! The days turned into weeks and I settled into a routine of daily visits with my boys, arriving by 10:00 am and leaving at 3:30 pm, returning at 8:00 pm until 10:00 pm. I was pumping every three hours as well, trying to produce enough milk to sustain them both. It was a very tiring time, both mentally and physically. The stress of having a child in the NICU is overwhelming, the stress of having two in there was overpowering. Guilt always found a way to creep in as I sat with one boy and not the other. I hated when other families were around and would peer in over my shoulder, making comments like "He's so tiny!" I wanted to protect them from everyone and everything.


Zander had trouble figuring out how to breathe on his own. He relied a lot on his ventilator, and he turned blue several times. It was very hard on the nerves. After several tests, it was discovered that he had an open duct in his heart, a PDA, causing moisture in his lungs and making it difficult for him to breathe. He started a round of medication to help close the duct. By the end of his medication the duct hadn't fully closed and he still struggled with "riding the vent".

Lyndon was holding his own, gaining weight and growing. He was even showing signs of no longer needing to be intubated. And then, at 28 days old, right before my eyes my baby boy began to fade away. He had received a blood transfusion that morning but instead of pinking up he was turning a greenish-grey colour. X-rays were ordered, and then the surgeon was called. Even though no one told me right away, I knew something was seriously wrong. The surgeon came to Lyndon's bedside where I sat holding his hand and singing to him, and told me that Lyndon had a very serious bowel infection called Necrotizing Enterocolitis. His bowels had perforated and the contents were leaking into his bloodstream, poisoning him. He needed a drain surgically inserted into his bowel to drain the contents out of his body, and he needed it ASAP.

I couldn't understand what was happening. He was fine the night before! He was smiling and being his feisty little self. How was he so sick that he needed surgery now? What happened? He was still so tiny, how was he going to make it through the surgery?! I sat with him right up until it was time for him to go to the OR. I memorized every little feature of his face and his body. I held his hand. I sang "You are my Sunshine" to him over and over. I told him how much I loved him and how proud of him I was for being so brave and strong. I didn't want to leave him. I feared I wouldn't see him alive again if I left. But eventually I had to let go, and I left my baby boy in the loving hands of his NICU team.

I was told afterwards that Lyndon was too weak to even make it to the OR, and the surgery was performed at his bedside. I was also told that he would require a second surgery to repair his diseased bowel, but he would need to be a lot stronger before that could be attempted.

As we waited for Lyndon to grow stronger, it seemed like everything started to go wrong. His gases were all over the place and he was placed on an oscillating ventilator to help regulate the levels. His little body began to swell and soon he was swollen beyond recognition. His skin had turned very yellow. He was being poked around the clock, constantly needing blood-work done, trying to determine the cause of all the swelling. He received transfusions of blood, albumin and platelets on several occasions over his stay in the NICU.


Zander's PDA opened up again at 34 days and he began a diuretic to help him lose the extra moisture. Both boys underwent spinal taps. Zander's was fine, however Lyndon's wasn't and he was treated for meningitis. Antibiotics became Lyndon's new best friend. I was feeling more helpless than ever. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help my babies. I wanted so desperately to protect them and I had no idea how.

Lyndon continued to retain fluid. It seemed everyone was at a loss as to why until one day an ultrasound of his long term i.v. (PICC Line) showed that blood clots had developed. He was started on a blood thinner to help shrink the clots. I prayed that this would be the answer he needed and that all would be resolved, but instead things got worse. Before the blood thinner had a chance to do its job, Lyndon developed a brain bleed. It was a grade one bleed that eventually resolved on its own.

Zander was extubated towards the end of July, and was put on a CPAP machine. After 44 days, Zander's cry was finally heard. It was like music to my ears! Zander continued to do well while Lyndon fought with everything he had in him to keep going. And then they were separated. My heart felt like it was ripped from my chest. As hard as it was being in the unit, as guilty as I felt sitting with one boy at a time, I was put at ease with a simple glance towards the baby I wasn't sitting with. But now they would be in completely different rooms on opposite ends of the NICU. I was devastated. I tried to be fair and spend equal time with each of them and I alternated who I would go see first, but my mind was always with the other boy on some level and it hurt beyond measure. I hated not being able to be with them both.

Lyndon went for his second surgery on August 28. He lost 17 cm of his bowel in total, but finally the road to recovery and getting my boys home was in sight. He was extubated at 92 days old, and hearing his little cry made my heart soar. I never thought we would get to this point. The universe, it seemed, had other plans for my sweet Lyndon though. He developed a fistula and again we waited for another surgery. To say I was frustrated at this point was an understatement. I was beyond mad at the world. Why couldn't Lyndon catch a break?

My heart was broken watching him go through all of this. All the needle pricks, all the attempts for cbc's because his blood kept clotting. The attempt at arterial lines that always failed. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to take my baby and shield him from everyone. I cried to break my heart seeing him lying there so still, so physically exhausted, drained.

On October 18, Zander was discharged. What should have been a day of excitement was a day of such mixed emotions that I barely remember it. I felt like the worst mom in the world for taking just one baby home. I was so riddled with guilt for leaving Lyndon behind, leaving him all alone, that at times I couldn't breathe. This was most certainly not the way it was supposed to feel bringing your child home for the first time. Nothing about our situation seemed fair.


Zander came along with me now, every day, back and forth to the NICU to visit his brother. For the third time since June, we made an extremely hard situation work. The amazing nurses who snuggled Zander so I could snuggle Lyndon are a large part of the reason why it worked.

The weeks leading up to Lyndon's surgery proved to be just as stressful as the previous weeks. Lyndon had developed an extreme case of jaundice - his bilirubin was almost 400, when a normal level is 0. He also had a severe calcium deficiency. Every long bone in his body was fractured, along with three compression breaks in his spine. Lyndon showed so much strength throughout all of this. He barely cried. I got through the days because of him. He was my rock when I should have been his.

On November 2, Lyndon had his final bowel surgery. His feeds began shortly after. It took some figuring out to ensure he got all of the nutrients and calories he needed, but Lyndon soon began to show signs of improvement. He had so many people rooting for him, loving him, supporting him.

On Dec 21, Lyndon was moved from the NICU to the fourth floor, and after a brief stint in the PICU due to an infection, Lyndon was finally discharged! On January 6, after 208 days, our family went home. All of us.

The boys celebrated their first birthday on June 12, 2016!


Since coming home, Zander has had follow-up appointments with cardiology and we are happy to say his PDA is barely open. He is now a very happy, mischievous and healthy 16 month old!

Lyndon was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy back in May. He has overcome so much in his short life already. I watch how hard he works and the determination he has, and my heart is full of hope for his future.


***** 

Adina, thank you for allowing me to share your story! It has been a pleasure getting to know you and your family, and I look forward to watching your beautiful boys grow! Remember, I am here if you need anything!

November is Prematurity Awareness Month, with World Prematurity Day being on November 17th. One in 12 babies in Newfoundland and Labrador is born prematurely, and globally more than 15 million babies are born too soon. On November 20th, there will be a 'Wee-Ones Walk' at the Janeway to recognize and celebrate these precious little babies. I hope to see many of our friends there!

-Julie xo

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Tulip Tales: Liam

At just 10 months old, Liam Wrice was diagnosed with a brain tumor at the Northern Lights Regional Health Care Facility in Fort McMurray. His parents, Jerry Wrice (of Carbonear, NL) and Natasha Hewlin (of Cow Head, NL), share their son's incredible story.

***** 

On December 28th, 2014 our little miracle arrived at our home. He couldn’t wait to come into this world! He wouldn’t even let us get to the hospital to deliver. It was then that we knew we had a determined little guy on our hands! Through the first 10 months of Liam’s life, we watched his progress, his development, and marveled at how smart of a baby he is - a baby with a smile that could melt your heart, a baby who brought us the true meaning of what life is really all about. 


Liam never experienced a day of sickness until the early days of November, 2015. It was on Thursday, November 5th that Natasha and I decided we should take Liam to a doctor. Early symptoms were virus-like - a small fever, a little vomiting, and sleeping lots. The first visit was to our family doctor in Fort McMurray. We thought it was a virus and needed to run its course. We were told to go home and give him some Tylenol for the fever. Two days later, on November 7th, we took Liam to the Emergency department at the Northern Lights Regional Health Care Centre. Again, we were told it was a virus and that it needed to run its course. 

The following day, Sunday November 8th, Liam had a couple of blisters break out in the temple area of his head and we took him back to the hospital once again. It was then that they ordered blood work and urinalysis, but nothing was found. They told us the blisters were likely his fever breaking and that it should clear up in the next couple of days. On the morning of Tuesday, November 10th, I was getting ready for work and noticed Liam lying awake in his crib. I knew that wasn't like him. Typically, if Liam is awake he wants to be up and playing, so I picked him up and put him in bed with Natasha. I went to work and wasn’t there 20 minutes before I received a call from Natasha saying that Liam’s lips and tongue were moving uncontrollably, and they were on the way to the hospital. Upon arriving at the hospital, I met Natasha there and they took us in immediately. The pediatrician took a quick look at him and ordered an MRI scan and a spinal tap. Prior to getting the MRI, they hooked him up to a heavy antiviral drug in case it was a virus that had spread to his brain. Once the MRI was done we understood that a spinal tap wouldn’t be required and that we would be going back to the emergency department to wait for the doctor to come and discuss the results with us. It was about 15 minutes later when the pediatrician came in to our room at the emergency department and delivered the shattering news that Liam had a mass on his brain and that a medical team was on route to airlift us to Stollery Hospital. At that moment, it honestly felt like someone dropped the world on our shoulders. Our whole life came crashing down.

Upon arrival to the hospital in Edmonton, surgeons were expecting to have to perform surgery right away based on the size of the tumor (9cm x 9cm x 9cm). When they had the opportunity to meet Liam, it was determined that surgery wasn’t an immediate requirement and that they would have a little more time to plan the surgery.

It was determined that Liam would undergo surgery to resect the tumor on Friday, November 13th. At approximately 9:45am, the nurse practitioner came to the waiting area where our family was anxiously waiting news on the progress. The first update was that the tumor was proving to be difficult and it was likely they would not be able to resect the entire mass during this surgery and that based on their findings under the microscope, it was going to be an uphill battle. Not another hour had passed when the neurosurgery team came to update us again. They were there to say that the entire tumor had been resected! What appeared at first to be challenging wasn’t so challenging after all! They came to an area that they thought would be difficult, however, there was a fine delineation between the brain and the tumor and thankfully they were able to lift it out without issue. 



Liam spent the next 5 days in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, where he was under 24 hour care. He proved to our whole family at that time just how strong he was. Just a short while after surgery he started to follow voices with his eyes. He ate a Popsicle just a couple of days after surgery, and started doing other silly things that Liam was known for.

After 5 days in the PICU, Liam was brought back to the post-surgery floor. This was time for recovery and time to understand the pathology of the type of tumor on his brain. Liam experienced some swelling during this time and there were a couple of anxious moments.

After a few days up on this floor, our family was advised that the pathology was back and it determined the type of tumor Liam has. We were called in to a meeting and were told that Liam has an AT/RT (Atypical Teratoid Rhabdoid Tumour). AT/RT is an aggressive, fast growing and very rare cancer which mainly occurs in children under the age of 3. The chances of getting it are 1 in 3,000,000. In the United States each year, approximately 30 children get diagnosed with this type of cancer. The prognosis is based on many factors such as age, location, metastases (spread), and ability to resect the tumor. The team at Stollery Hospital in Edmonton did tell us that they have had very little success with this type of cancer. However, in Liam’s case there are high hopes and great optimism. They were able to completely remove the tumor, and there was no spread to his spine and kidneys (which are the only other areas to which this type will spread). We were advised that over the next 9 to 12 months, Liam would receive an aggressive chemotherapy protocol.
 

Liam was placed on the oncology ward at the Stollery Hospital. After a couple of days there, it was determined that Liam would require a shunt to be placed in his head due to the swelling. This surgery went very well, and Liam recovered rather quickly.

A couple of days after the shunt surgery, Liam was discharged for a week so he could return to Fort McMurray and spend some time with his family before returning to Edmonton to begin his chemotherapy. Upon returning to Fort McMurray, he enjoyed a full week at home playing with his toys, living a 'normal' life, and celebrating his 1st birthday.



Liam returned to Edmonton on December 13th, to be readmitted to hospital. On January 11th, 2016 Liam and Mommy traveled to Calgary via medevac for Liam to have a stem cell harvest. Part of Liam’s chemotherapy protocol is to have high dose chemotherapy. This completely suppresses the bone marrow, therefore Liam needs his stem cells to go in after his chemotherapy and rescue him. This stem cell harvesting needs to be done in between his standard chemotherapy cycles, when his counts are the highest. On Wednesday, January 13th, Liam had his stem cell harvesting procedure done at the Calgary Children’s Hospital. The required number of stem cells he needs for his future therapy is 150 million. At first they advised us that there was potential to have to do this procedure a second time if they didn’t get enough stem cells, but just 4 hours into his procedure they had 165 million stem cells!
 

On Friday January 15th, Liam and Mommy came back to Edmonton. Liam had a couple of baseline tests performed - one for hearing, the other for kidney function. Both came back fine. Also on that day, Liam finally got 'evicted' from the isolation room, after being in isolation for over a month! They cleared him from all viruses, which meant that he could leave his room and go out for walks. On January 19th (just this week), Liam began round 2 of induction chemotherapy. 


To date, Liam has proven to be a champion, a true inspiration and a superhero. He is stronger than you could imagine, braver than anyone we know, determined as can be, and happy even on his worst days. He will win this fight, and it is the love, support, prayers and well wishes from all over that will help him get through it. Our family thanks everyone from the bottom of our hearts for the support shown to our son, Liam. 

If there is one message to be delivered to any parent out there, it is that you know your child better than anyone - better than any doctor or any nurse. If your child is acting different or is not feeling well, you know it. Be persistent with the medical team and ask questions. We were very fortunate that in just 3 visits to the Emergency department, they found the tumor on Liam’s brain. The average time to diagnosis is between 4-7 visits to an ER.

-Much love from Natasha and Jerry

*****

Jerry and Natasha, I can only imagine what you are going through. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family, and especially to sweet Liam. He is strong. He is a fighter, and he will get through this thing. It must be such a scary time for you all right now, but I can only hope that your fear and worry is swallowed up by the day to day joy that your little boy brings. 

Liam’s journey can be followed on Facebook by searching - #LIAMSTRONG – Liam’s Journey to be AT/RT Free.

The family has also made available for purchase #LIAMSTRONG bracelets. These bracelets are dark grey in color, which symbolize brain cancer. These are being sold for 2 reasons - as a fundraiser, and to raise awareness of brain cancer, specifically in children and infants. Childhood brain cancer is the second most common type of cancer in children, after leukemia. It isn’t heard of often, it isn’t talked about enough, the study and research into childhood brain cancer is not where it needs to be. There needs to be a cure. Wear a #LIAMSTRONG bracelet proudly and share Liam’s story. Please feel free to direct people to the Facebook page so they can follow his journey. Awareness is key in finding a cure.

Liam's father, Jerry says, "We will some day, some way, some how, find a way to thank every single person who has been a part of Liam’s journey in one way or another. Natasha and I have made a commitment, and that commitment is – At the end of this journey, if there is 5 cents left over from the fundraising and support that has been given to us, we will pay it forward to someone who needs the same support we required."

#LIAMSTRONG

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Tulip Tales: Hailey

I am excited to share another Tulip Tale on my blog today!

Raelene is a mother of three, including one child with special needs. Here, she shares the story of her daughter, Hailey.
I adore her honesty, and I know you will too.

*****

My pregnancy with twins was considered higher risk because of the fact that I was carrying multiples, and I'd had blood pressure issues previously when I was pregnant with my first son, Ben. I also had an odd antibody show up in my blood, that doctors couldn't determine where it came from. (It wasn't the normal Rh antibody, but something different. I was told that it was something I would only get from a blood transfusion, which I've never had, so it remains a mystery.) I was scheduled for weekly biophysical profiles, where they used a Doppler ultrasound to check the flow of blood to each baby's brain.

Hailey and her twin brother, Matthew were born at 33 weeks via emergency c-section after a weekly visit to the Maternal Fetal Assessment Unit revealed that one baby's heart rate was low and not fluctuating like the other baby's.


Hailey was born with very little blood. I still do not know the medical term, but it was explained to me that her blood had backed up into mine, leaving her as white as paper. She received two blood transfusions immediately after birth. We were told a lot of very scary possible scenarios, and it was a waiting game as the doctors checked all of her vital organs. She had a brain hemorrhage, which led us to prepare for the worst case scenario. The left side of her body was affected, and she was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at her one year check at the Perinatal Clinic at the Janeway.

Hailey was also diagnosed with hearing loss (auditory neuropathy) - damage or absence of auditory nerves - at around 2 months of age, and received bilateral cochlear implants at around 18 months.

She had a strabismus repair on both eyes when she was just two and a half years old. Her eyesight was perfect, but her eyes were turning in. It was strictly a muscular issue, so she had that fixed surgically.


It has always been a bit of a mystery with Hailey, as to how much she understands. She is non-verbal, however, she has shown us in her own way that cognitively, she is pretty sharp! She puts things together and has her own thoughts and opinions, even though she cannot speak. Physically, she is doing awesome. She has come such a long way. The hardest part of her condition, for me, is the non-verbal piece. I struggle with it, probably more than she does. I long to know how she is feeling, etc. We are using PECS (Picture Exchange Communication System) now, and that has helped with her requesting things, but it is still a challenge. Also, because she cannot speak it is hard for her to make friends. She loves to be around people and is a very social little girl, but I worry that she feels isolated. I hold out hope that she will speak eventually, as no one has ever said for sure that she won't. I keep thinking her life would be SO much easier if she could speak. My son, Ben used to ask me from time to time when Hailey would talk, but now he says things like, "When Hailey talks..."


I am having a difficult time with Christmas because I cannot ask her what she wants Santa to bring, and she most definitely has her preferences. For example, she and her brother turned five in October, and among their gifts was a Minion stuffed toy for Hailey and a Minecraft creeper for Matthew. She wanted the creeper and would not let up. I had to bring back the Minion and get another creeper! She isn't a girly girl and she likes the things her brothers like!

I am grateful that her cochlear implants give her the gift of hearing. It is truly a blessing. (I should mention that one malfunctioned and she had to have it replaced - yet another surgery!).


Hailey was diagnosed with Autism in February of this year. She had a bit of a hard time with eye contact (which she has since overcome) and in the ADOS (the Autism diagnostic test), she didn't seek attention from the two people in the room. She played when they initiated, but she didn't initiate. The doctor told us that she wasn't 100% confident in the diagnosis and gave us the option to have her retested at a later date. We decided to take the diagnosis so we could get more support in place for her before school started. Personally, I do not feel that she is autistic. I realize that the spectrum is huge, but I am not convinced. I am, however, extremely pleased with the therapy that she receives.

Hailey is lucky to have two brothers looking out for her. Ben, her older brother, is very protective over her most times. Both he and Matthew do not treat her any differently, nor do I really. She has the same rules as they have. Matthew (her twin) is a silent observer. He is his own person, but he will check on her with a sideways glance every now and then. I must say though, since they started Kindergarten in September, they have been playing together more than ever (mostly games of tag!). Matthew looks out for her, and is very quick to tell me when one of her "ears" is off.

Hailey has done countless hours of Physiotherapy and Occupational Therapy, and although she was a late walker, she is now running, hopping and climbing stairs! Hailey is an amazingly determined little girl and we celebrate all of her achievements every day!


***** 

Thank you, Raelene for sharing your daughter's story. Hailey is such a beautiful little girl! I can certainly relate to what you say about having a non-verbal child. I think that is one of the most difficult points for me as well. I just wish that Brennen could talk to me and tell me what he wants or how he feels. What I wouldn't give to hear his little voice. To hear him say "Mommy", or say "I love you". But I hear his laughter, and I see the smile on his face, and I understand. Just as I see happiness in your sweet Hailey. True, we have known sadness, but we also know acceptance and unconditional love. There is no replacement for that. I always want parents who are just entering this world of 'special needs' to know that the love you feel for your child will surpass the worries, fears and burdens you may be feeling now. Don't get me wrong, the difficulties, the pain and the heartache are all very real, but so is the love, and that's what will get you through.

From my family to yours, I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and all the best in the New Year! xo


If you would like to be featured on Tulip Tales, please email me at: juliebrocklehurst@hotmail.com  Please include a brief description of your child and their condition, along with any pictures you would like to share. I will contact you with specific questions.

Thanks!
-Julie

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Tulip Tales: Nolan

I am so excited to share the story of this beautiful little boy named Nolan. Nolan is one of the children in my care at Little Tulips, and we are so happy to have him in our group. When Nolan's Mom first contacted me about a space in our child care program, we connected right away. There's just something about meeting another mother who has a child with extra medical needs, another mother who has spent countless hours at doctors appointments and hospital visits, another mother who "gets it". 

When she sent me this piece, Jan said, "I won't lie, it was hard to write. It's hard to read. But it's the beginning of his story, and we don't know where his story will go as he gets older."

It is a beautiful story. So please, pull up a chair, settle in, and read about our sweet boy, Nolan.

*****

When we decided to start trying to have a baby, I remember standing in the kitchen with my husband and saying “What if something goes wrong”?

I remember that moment like it was yesterday.

I enjoyed being pregnant. I remember where I was and what I ate before the very first kick. I remember all the kicks after. I remember hearing “it’s a boy” during our first ultrasound. I remember giving up anything with tomatoes in it after experiencing heart burn for the very first time in my life. I remember my poor husband telling me, again, to “turn on your side, honey, you’re snoring”. And I remember the day that my fears came true.

During our 34 week ultrasound, the technician was quiet. She said she wanted to run something by someone else and I immediately panicked. Five minutes later, we were brought to a room with our OB/GYN, who was in the hospital that day.

Our unborn son had hydronephrosis, excess water on his kidneys, likely caused by Posterior Urethral Valves (PUV), but an official diagnosis couldn’t be made until he was born. The congenital condition affects only boys and occurs in about 1 in 8,000 to 25,000 live births. It is not inherited in any recognized way and seems to happen in the early stages of pregnancy when the organs, muscle and other tissue starts to form. It is not due to anything a mother did or ate during pregnancy, it just happens. And it happened to our child.

PUV are extra flaps of tissue that grow in a boy’s urethra, blocking the flow of urine. The severity of the condition depends on the degree of obstruction. The doctors wouldn’t know how severe his PUV were until he was born. From that point on, I would receive weekly ultrasounds to monitor my amniotic fluid. We already had some idea that his condition would be more severe, as most mild-to-moderate cases aren’t identified until after birth. The fact that his was found during an ultrasound indicated a more serious case. If urine was backing up into his kidneys, which seemed to be the case, he could potentially be in kidney failure at birth. The PUV were also damaging his bladder.

Google was my hope, my devastation and my obsession.

We met with the NICU doctor and received a tour, knowing that we would be going there. We met the surgeon who would be performing surgery on our child to give him a vesicostomy (an opening between the abdominal wall and the bladder that helps prevent harm to the kidneys - he would ‘pee’ through a hole in his belly for the first year of his life to give his bladder a chance to relax). He would also have surgery to ablate (remove) the valves, but that wouldn’t happen until a year later; the vesicostomy would be reversed at the same time.


Nolan was born on May 30, 2014. He was beautiful. He was finally here. And his PUV were severe. On day 1, he had surgery. For 12 days, we lived in the NICU at the Janeway, but with no pediatric nephrologists here, the doctors were working closely with IWK Children’s Hospital in Halifax, NS. On day 12, we were transferred to the IWK.

Nolan had to have a Glomerular Filtration Rate Test (GFR) – a test to see how much function his kidneys had. We were told that we wanted to see the number 15. Anything less than 15% function would likely require immediate dialysis and transplant as soon as he was big enough.

The number came back. His right kidney wasn’t functioning at all. The left kidney was functioning at only 7%.

We were devastated and still trying to wrap our heads around the fact that our little boy was very sick, let alone the possibility that he might need dialysis and a transplant so soon. But our nephrologist was optimistic. He said he would do whatever he could to avoid dialysis right away. And he did it.

Nolan had blood taken every day for the first 8 weeks of his life, monitoring creatinine, sodium, potassium and other levels. We tinkered with medications. A LOT of medications. But the tinkering worked, and his levels slowly started to come down.


You don’t think about how important something is until it doesn’t work. The kidneys are important because they keep the composition of the blood stable, which lets the body function. Healthy kidneys prevent the buildup of wastes and extra fluid in the body. They keep levels of electrolytes stable, like potassium, sodium and phosphate. And they make hormones that regulate blood pressure, make red blood cells and help bones stay strong. Nolan’s kidneys can’t do these things on their own, so these medications help him.

So while we were learning how to be parents to this beautiful child, we also learned what each medication was for. How much to give. How often.  We learned that he will eventually need dialysis. We learned that he will need a transplant.

My husband had to return to work as he had been off for much longer than we anticipated. I brought my son home for the first time a few weeks later on July 12th, 2014.

Since then, we have been very closely monitored by a great team of people from both the Janeway and the IWK. We have been hospitalized here at the Janeway for UTIs, which he is prone to. We regularly see his nephrologists, urologists, pediatrician, dietitians and many more health care professionals. He’s a pretty loved regular at the Blood Collection clinic at the Janeway. We’ve travelled to the IWK three times since we first came home – we’ll be travelling there a few times a year for a very long time. At each visit, his GFR results have improved – from 7% kidney function at birth, to 30% kidney function in May 2015. His right kidney also appears to have shown up to the party – it’s doing a little work as well. Better late than never!


Nolan’s PUV presents a number of challenges, based on the severity of his condition. Obviously, the damage to his kidneys presents the most pressing medical issues, but the PUV has its own challenges for his bladder and urinary tract as well. We don’t know for sure how it will affect him, but from speaking with his urologists and other parents of PUV boys in a support group, we’ve learned some possible impacts for the future. He may require frequent catheterization or other types of intervention. He might do well with medications that are frequently used to treat the bladder for PUV boys. We just won’t know until we get there. Every PUV story is different.
 
What we do know for sure is that he has Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD) because of his PUV, and there’s no reversing that. He will need a kidney transplant. We are hopeful that we can get to age 7 or 8 before we need to go down that road. But again, we just won’t know until we get there.

Nolan’s kidney failure causes problems in his everyday life, but, like a lot of chronic illnesses, you’d never say it by looking at him. Kids with CKD feel pretty yucky a lot of the time. Nausea and vomiting are very common. Lack of interest in eating is also very common, which contributes to slowed growth. Because of this, Nolan had surgery to insert a G-Tube just before his first birthday. We struggle with solids and cheer whenever he eats the smallest thing. We experience the nausea and vomiting every day – the first year was a messy one! But we also experience giggles, clapping hands, smiles for his mama and daddy and all the things that we hoped for when I was pregnant and writing in his journal.

Despite his CKD, Nolan is a happy child who is meeting all his milestones. He is all about trucks. All trucks, all the time. He loves his thumb and his blanket when he is sleepy. He loves his dog, Baxter, and chasing mama to the end of the hall. He loves raspberries on his belly from daddy in the mornings and his friends at daycare (another miracle – we were told very early on that many mothers of kidney kids are not able to return to work. Luckily for us, Nolan is doing well and there are people like Julie and Andrew in the world, and they are a part of our circle).


But, like any mother, I still worry.

I worry about Nolan’s growth. I worry about the problems we’ll have with potty training. I worry about how other kids might treat him. I worry about infections. I worry about dialysis. I worry that I won’t be a match for a kidney transplant. I worry about his body rejecting whatever kidney he does receive.

But all the worry in the world doesn’t change the fact that we have a handsome, sweet, funny, strong-willed little boy who has a beautiful circle around him – family, friends, neighbours, health care professionals, child care professionals, pharmacists and even strangers. I’ve said it many times – Nolan might not yet know how big and beautiful his circle is, but until he does, we certainly do know it, and we appreciate every bit of love and support we have received since his birth.

Having a child with a chronic illness is not easy. For a long time, I found it very difficult to be around “normal” babies. I didn’t want to be the mother that other mothers pitied because her child was sick. From our many hospital stays, I’ve learned many things that I never thought I would need to know. I’ve met many families who are facing extraordinarily hard battles with their children’s health. I’ve learned that there are no guarantees for anyone in this life. Not even sweet, beautiful, innocent children. And that every day with them is a gift. It’s not always easy; sometimes it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do. But it’s a beautiful gift.


We have been very lucky. While we might struggle with eating and growth and nausea, Nolan is doing very well right now. I know that we will have hard days, and even devastating days. I know that dialysis will be an adjustment for all of us, but mostly for Nolan. I know that I will be a wreck on transplant day. But I also know that we will have good days and that whatever comes our way, we will get through all of it together. With Nolan. With our circle. And he will always know that we are there with him, doing the best we can for him, because he is worth all of it and more.

He has shown us, so many times, how strong he is. We are so proud of this kid, so proud to be his parents. Our lives might not be “normal”, but whose life is normal, anyway? Medications, feeding tubes, frequent appointments - this is our normal. And it’s awesome. It’s awesome because Nolan is in it. We soak up the good days and cry on the bad. But every day, we know our boy couldn’t be more loved.

That day, in the kitchen, my husband reassured me that our yet-to-be-conceived child would be fine. And that if, indeed, anything did go ‘wrong’, we’d get through it.

He was totally right.

Look at this face.

Totally right. Even when things go ‘wrong’, they can be perfectly right.


*****

Jan, thank you so much for sharing Nolan's story. Thank you for trusting Andrew and I with your precious boy, and for including us in the circle of people who love and care for him. It truly is an honour to be able to spend time with him and to see the joy in his face and the wonder in his eyes! Nolan is an amazing little boy, who is curious and capable, and full of life!

Seeing your child go through all that Nolan has had to endure, and the struggles he will continue to have would be hard for any parent to accept. When raising a child with medical issues or extra challenges, a certain amount of pain is unavoidable, but so is joy. Our children are a gift, and we have the incredible opportunity to watch them grow and look at life and be grateful for all of the amazing things that we have. Nolan is strong and he is a fighter. You are strong, but he will make you stronger. There will be days that are hard. Weeks that are hard. Months that are hard. But you can do this. You are the perfect mother for Nolan. And just like you said, he is "perfectly right".

*****

If you would like to be featured on Tulip Tales, please email me at: juliebrocklehurst@hotmail.com  Please include a brief description of your child and their condition, along with any pictures you would like to share.  I will contact you with specific questions.

Thanks!
-Julie

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Tulip Tales: Paisley

Throughout a pregnancy, you think about all of the little things, like what you will name your baby. Will they have blue or brown eyes? How much will they weigh? And of course, the most important question: Will they be healthy when they arrive. Thanks to advances in technology, it is becoming easier and easier to detect any abnormalities before you've given birth. It's amazing, really. But what's also amazing (and scary) is how much can go undetected.

Alisha shares the story of her young daughter, Paisley.

*****

I had a fairly normal pregnancy. I found out that I was expecting in January 2014, when I was four weeks and five days along. I went to all of my prenatal appointments, took my vitamins and rested the best I could. My eighteen week anatomy scan came and went like a breeze. Everything looked fine. At twenty-two weeks, I opted to have a 3D ultrasound to see if my little bean was a boy or girl. We were so excited to actually be able to see our baby's face, and even more excited to find out that we would be having a little girl! None of my four ultrasounds ever indicated that there was anything abnormal about my baby. At thirty weeks, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. As a precaution, my doctor decided I would get induced at forty weeks; on September 23rd. That day turned out to be the best and also the worst day of my life.


Because of some complications, it was decided that we wouldn't go ahead with the induction but that I would have a Cesarean section instead. They wheeled me away to the OR, and at 2:06 p.m., Paisley was born! Hearing her cry for the first time is something that I will never forget.


When they got back to the nursery with Paisley, they started to notice that her breathing was a bit off. It took what seemed like forever for someone to come and update me on how she was. The nurse finally came in and told me she noticed a hole in the roof of Paisley's mouth while trying to feed her. As it turned out, the trouble breathing was being caused by her tongue blocking her airway. So, not only did we discover that she had a cleft palate, but she also couldn't breathe properly. The local hospital wasn't equipped to deal with this, so she was airlifted to the Janeway Children's Hospital in St. John's (three hours away by car) the next morning. Her dad left for the city as soon as he could, but I couldn't go. 

I was heartbroken. The life I had imagined with my little girl seemed like it was destroyed. How would this affect her speech? How would she eat? Would she need an apnea monitor for the rest of her life? It seemed like all the little questions I had asked myself over the last nine months were mocking me, as we were faced with a series of much more serious questions.

I got to St. John's three days later, and finally held my daughter for the first time. It wasn't as magical as I had pictured it being. There were wires everywhere, monitors were beeping constantly, and we were laying in a huge hospital chair surrounded by a green curtain. I stared at her oxygen monitor more than I stared at her. It was tense, sad and uncomfortable. 


They diagnosed Paisley with Pierre Robin Sequence. This is characterized by a cleft (or high) palate, glossotopsis, and micrognathia. In simple terms, she has a cleft palate, a larger tongue and a smaller than normal jaw. This causes problems breathing and eating, which leads to problems gaining weight in infancy. The jaw does some catch-up growth in the first year, so the breathing problem eventually should resolve itself, except in serious cases. It's hard to detect by a basic ultrasound, and even with a 3D ultrasound this condition isn't easily picked up on. 

The following weeks were long. Paisley was required to lay on her belly or side at all times. She started off on a feeding tube but eventually with the help of an occupational therapist, we tried feeding her with a special bottle. She hardly drank anything. It exhausted her. She would drink 10-20 ml from her bottle, then most of her formula ended up going in her feeding tube so she wouldn't starve. But every day that she took even a little more from the bottle than the last, we celebrated. We were proud, even if she had only managed to drink 10 ml. 

Even simply holding her was a challenge, as she was always in an awkward position to keep her tongue from blocking her airway. The positioning seemed like it wasn't enough to keep her airway open, so doctors inserted an NP tube to assist her. 


The NP tube helped immensely. We could hold her however we wanted. She got better at drinking her bottle, she started to gain more weight and in turn, her jaw began to grow outward. They took out her NP tube on November 1st - one of the best days of my life! Finally, I could see my child without tubes in her nose. 


The next few weeks flew by. She got better and better at bottle feeding and she had no episodes of decreased oxygen. On November 22nd, we finally returned home to Burin - just a day before Paisley was two months old.

Things have only gotten easier since then. Paisley is now 11 months old, and weighs twenty three pounds. She loves to eat. She can say "Mom", "Nan", and "uh oh". She loves to dance and she loves crawling after our dogs. She's come so far from being the baby with tubes in her nostrils. We still go to the Janeway for check-ups every three months, and we're hoping to have her palate repaired by January 2016. 


Becoming a mother has made me stronger than I ever thought I could be, and has made me realize how much the little moments mean in life. We don't take anything for granted.


***** 

Alisha, thank you for sharing your daughter's story with us! It must have been so difficult not being able to be with her those first couple of days, but hopefully the hardest part is behind you. It's crazy how life can be so scary and unpredictable, yet beautiful and amazing all at the same time. Paisley is a beautiful little girl, and I'm sure she has a bright future ahead of her! Enjoy the journey, whatever it may bring!


If you would like to be featured on Tulip Tales, please email me at: juliebrocklehurst@hotmail.com  Please include a brief description of your child and their condition, along with any pictures you would like to share. I will contact you with specific questions.

Thanks!
-Julie