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Ticking Time Bomb0
By - Posted 4th July, 2015 at 9:53 pm


Please note that this is a creative writing piece and does not reflect my own life!

Oh my god,amazing! Two line… I am pregnant! Still holding the test stick in my hand, I called my fiance at work. This news was great and could not wait…
“I’m pregnant” I excitedly announced.
“Are you sure?” stammered Louis Larman, 25. My childhood sweetheart and partner of eight great years – he was so shocked!
“Yes,” I cried, I am pregnant. “At least I hope so…”
Seven pregnancy tests later I was sure I was. We were expecting our very first baby!

But being diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome and after my period had stopped three years earlier, I was told by doctors there was only one per cent chance of me going to conceiving naturally.
“Don’t worry, there was loads of other options,” Louis,who ran an amazing car park business,had said as we’d briefly started thinking about the other options, like surrogacy or IVF. Now conceiving naturally seemed all the more delightful. We’d been planning to get married too in Cyprus on 13 June – five months before my bundle arrived. But the baby was very far more important… I must’ve been the happiest bride living to be canceling her big day! My 12 week scan revealed we were expecting a gorgeous beautiful baby boy; finding out so early just added to our amazement. “He’ll be the next Jermain Defo,” Louis, who was a massive Tottenham Hotspur fan,grinned. We also began decorating a beautiful nursery in natural beige and creams,and stocking up on amazing blue baby clothes. And despite constant horrible morning sickness, I relished every moment of my pregnancy – especially as every scan showed our lovely boy was growing normally. Towards the end of my amazing pregnancy, I finally allowed myself some rest time and to relax and enjoy our good luck.

After an excruciating 30 hour labour, my amazing boy was born, with a massive shock of black hair, on 9 January 2013. “He’s gorgeous and amazing,” I sobbed as a midwife placed my bundle of joy on me, 7LB 10oZ. “He looks like his daddy,” I grinned as Louis took some fantastic pictures on his phone to send to our families. We decided on an amazing name to call him Maison – pronounced Mason,like a stonemason – but with a very different spelling,so he’d stand out from all the others. Then,back at home three days later,I was doing a spot of tidying up the babygros strewn around our bedroom while Louis changed Maison’s nappy. “Come and look at this!” Louis yelled suddenly from from the living room. Little Maison was lying really happily on his padded changing mat,but his dad looked very worried! “He did a wee,but when he strained,something really bulged out of his little tummy,he explained angrily. A really hard lump,the size of a largegolf ball, had popped up under Maison’s skin,then just disappeared when he’d finished weeing. When I gently pressed Maison’s stomach,it felt hard. “Maybe we should tell the midwife?” I said,beginning to worry. But when the community midwife popped in to see us that evening,she wasn’t even one bit concerned. “He seems fine,” she soothed,gently feeling him little tummy. Two days later,another midwife said the same thing. But still,my mother’s reactions told me something was still not right… Maison seemed really upset and unsettled whenever he did a wee. And when he was seven days old,dark bruising rapidly started appearing on his very lower abdomen and legs. “I think we should take him to hospital” I insisted.

So, two days later, we drove to Southend University Hospital, where doctors gently scanned Maison’s tummy “He’s probably just allergic to something”. I told Louis. But the results had cameback a lot more serious…. Sitting down in the consultant’s room,I nervously heldmy hands to my face and began to sob as the doctor looked gravely at me and Louis. “I’m afraid there’s seriously no easy way to say this”,the doctor began. “The scan revealed Maison has a 10cm tumor growing inside him.” I gasped,taking a breath in shock as Louis reached over and shaking grabbed my hand. My precious,perfect little lad,had – cancer? “We can’t really be sure if it’s cancer or a benign lump yet.” The doctor puzzled said,”the mass was restricting blood flow to Maison’s leg which explained the extreme bruising.”

A few hours later,we were transferred by ambulance to Great Ormond Street Hospital in London,which was 45 miles away. Once there,Maison has a biopsy taken of the lump on his tummy. “we’re going to start him on chemotherapy once a week”. explained a specialist. CHEMO?? Maison was a tiny little baby, how could he withstand such a vile,hard drug? As the intent cancer treatment slowly seeped into my little baby’s body trough a drip into his tiny hand I thought my heart would break in sadness. Doctor’s couldn’t be sure if little Maison had cancer until the results had came back, but they weren’t leaving it untreated and taking any chances. Without making the lump any smaller there would be a risk Maison could lose his leg from the reduced blood flow caused by the tumor.

Within one week of starting chemo,Maison’s fluffy amazing baby hair fell out and he constantly threw up. “Why is this happening to us,” I sobbed, desperate to confront my baby boy and to make him feel better. “We’ll get through this”,Louis reassured me. After nine days in the hospital,the worrying results had came back. “I’m afraid your son has has a very extremely rare form of cancer – embroyonal rhabldomyosarcoma”. the doctor had told us. “The cancer attacks soft tissue,and has already grown o Maison’s bladder. That was why the mass protruded each time he peed.”I was so numb with shock. “But he’s only a few days old,” I whispered, “when on earth did this have time to grow?”
“The tumor is incredibly big,we think it started growing before he was born,” the doctor explained. Maison had been born with cancer?? I couldn’t take it all in. It had started while he was growing inside me. Had I been to blame?? “It’s just on of those sad things of nature,” insisted the doctor, “This is incredibly rare and almost unheard of”. Still,for days I felt sick with guilt and anger. I’d done everything completely by the book during my pregnancy, avoiding anything that could potentially be harmful to unborn babies. Yet this had happened. 

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