As doctors prepared me for surgery, I turned to my husband Craig, then 33, sobbing. ‘It’s too early,’ I wept, gently cradling my baby bump. It was August 2013 and I was supposed to be a bridesmaid at my sister Emmie’s wedding, but my waters had broken six weeks early and instead of walking down the aisle I was being prepared for an emergency caesarean at hospital.
My panic turned to pure joy and relief when doctors delivered our baby daughter, Edie, and placed her on my chest. Despite being early, and a small 4lb 9oz, Edie was perfectly healthy and I revelled in my first cuddle.
That evening, as I sent pictures of Edie to the family, Emmie forgave her for crashing her big day. ‘She’s too cute to be angry,’ she texted back.
Edie had to stay in hospital for two weeks while she got bigger, but then we brought her home to her excited big brother, Charlie, then three.
Edie’s entrance into the world had been dramatic, so it followed that she became an outgoing little girl. ‘Mummy, one day I’m going to be on The X Factor,’ she told me when she was four, and she was always singing, doing ballet or playing football with Charlie. Life was busy, but I adored being a mum and working part-time as a fashion account manager. I juggled childcare with Craig, a self-employed heating engineer.
But last November, Craig and I noticed Edie was struggling with her eyesight. ‘My eyes are blurry,’ she told me one morning, and then I realised her left eye had started to turn inwards. She seemed to be squinting.
Something wasn’t right
‘We’re going to see if you need glasses, darling,’ I told her a few days later, taking her to the optician. I assumed that was all it was, but the optician referred us to our GP, and when I got home, I noticed the word ‘urgent’ stamped on the referral letter.
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Esta historia es de la edición March 16, 2020 de WOMAN'S OWN.
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