The Most Precious Rubie...

There was no-one braver, no-one more ready for the fight...

Before we set off for the hospital, I took a selfie and uploaded it to Facebook. Straightaway, my mates started hitting Like. 

Fab photo! one wrote. 

None of them could tell how terrified I was.

Because as soon as we’d dropped our little girl Lillie, 5, at nursery, me and my partner Kent, 27, would be making our way to Newcastle’s Royal Victoria Infirmary.

There, I’d be induced.

It was 21 July 2014, and although I was 11 days shy of my due date, 1 August, doctors couldn’t risk waiting any longer. 

Four months earlier, at our 20-week scan, the midwife said we were having a little girl.

But there was something wrong with her legs and spine.

Tests confirmed she had spina bifida. Basically, the bones in our baby’s spine hadn’t closed properly. Fluid had built up around it, and caused damage to her nervous system.

It was unlikely she’d ever walk or use the toilet normally, and she’d need a catheter.

More scans

It wasn’t what we wanted for our daughter. We wanted her to be able to run, jump, climb trees… I started to cry.

‘It’s OK,’ the doctor said. ‘Many people with spina bifida have normal lives.’

After that, I had scans every month, in case more fluid built up.

We tried to explain it to Lillie, too. So she’d be prepared.

‘Your baby sister’s a bit poorly,’ I said. ‘She’s going to need an operation.’

‘I’ll hug her better,’ Lillie promised.

How I wished it would be that easy.