Nothing can prepare you for the moment a doctor tells you that your baby is unlikely to survive. One minute, you’re imagining the first cry, the first skin-to-skin, the first time seeing their face looking up at you. The next? You’re sitting in a small hospital room watching a team of doctors rush your newborn away while your world implodes. That was the moment motherhood truly began for me.
Growing up, I thought I would meet someone, settle down, and, when the time was right, start a family. I imagined my first pregnancy would involve shared giddiness over first scans, endless discussion about who the baby would look like and light-hearted disagreements over potential names. I thought I would step into parenthood alongside someone I loved, ready to begin this new chapter together. What I didn’t expect was that I would be doing this alone. Unfortunately, months after finding out I was pregnant, my relationship broke down as my partner struggled with the life changes having a baby meant. There were no shared appointments or late-night conversations about baby names. Every milestone – every flutter, every scan, every worry – was mine to carry. Pregnancy is emotional at the best of times, but doing it alone brings a different weight. There were many long nights when the questions felt endless: Will I manage? Will my baby miss out because it’s just the two of us? Will I be enough?
Like so many single mothers, I pushed those fears down and focused on the little miracle growing inside me. I told myself that love, determination and support from the people around me would be enough.
My daughter arrived five weeks early, and what should have been the happiest moment of my life quickly descended into the most frightening. Within moments of her birth, it was clear something was wrong. There was no cry, just tiny grunts as she fought for every breath. The room became full of doctors and nurses working around my tiny baby. In the hours that followed, I was told words no parent is ever prepared to hear: that she was unlikely to survive. In that moment, they could not give me any clear answers; all they knew was that her heart and lungs were not working as they should, and she was unable to breathe for herself. They explained that her heart kept stopping, and they had to sedate her as they took over her breathing on a ventilation machine. In an instant, the excitement of welcoming my baby turned into fear unlike anything I had ever known.
Courtesy of Ellie Kitching
