MY GIRL'S PROMISE

Lucy Preston, 49, couldn't be prouder of Liberty and her quest to help others

- LOUISE BATY

Cradling my daughter Liberty, I gazed at her wide blue eyes, blonde locks and cheeky smile. It was 29 December 2015 and, while 18-month-old Liberty looked like me, the person she resembled most was my mum Jane, who’d been a real ball of energy with the kindest nature.

Tragically, they’d never got to meet because Mum had died of breast cancer, aged 56, in 2002, when I was 27, which had left me feeling lost and alone for years.

Thankfully, that changed when Liberty arrived, in June 2014. Raising her as a single parent, we were inseparable and she’d toddle after me wherever I went. I still did a nightly breastfeed, which neither of us wanted to give up. Only now, as I adjusted my bra after feeding Liberty, I froze when my fingertips grazed the outline of a lump in my right breast.

PREVIOUS SCARES

I’d had two previous breast cancer scares, aged 21 and 31, with lumps that had turned out to be benign, but this felt different. Tucking Liberty into bed, I thought: ‘Is this third time unlucky?’

Unable to see my GP over Christmas, I found a breast cancer specialist based at a private hospital in Nottinghamshire, two hours’ drive from my home in Shrewsbury.

I had the initial appointment on 30 December 2015 and, on 6 January 2016, the results brought the worst news imaginable. ‘It’s cancer,’ the specialist said, gently, and I sobbed with despair that history was repeating itself.

As the specialist explained I’d need surgery and chemotherapy, I just seemed to go into autopilot thinking about Liberty. The thought of leaving her without a mum was unfathomable. I needed urgent treatment and was so worried about dying. I had no idea who would look after her, and I was determined to survive.