The Story of Miracles,Hope and Determination

Born 19th September 2020, 26 Weeks – 14 Weeks Early

In the early hours of September 7th, 2020, my wife Jess started to bleed—not a lot, but enough that we had to take her to the hospital. She was observed for 4 days. During her stay, she went deaf in her right ear,and to this day,she is still deaf. She was released on Thursday, still bleeding. During this stay, the doctors told us it was placenta previa.On Sunday, September 13th, we had to take her in again due to continued bleeding. This time, we were told the placenta was irritating the fibroid.She was released again on September 13th, still bleeding, and was advised—much to our shock—that she should exercise.So my wife followed the advice and became more active.On Saturday, September 19th, Jess woke up, and when I helped her out of bed and pulled back the covers, there was a river of blood—that’s the only way I can describe it. I got Jess to the toilet, where she passed a fibroid that was lodged in her birth canal, essentially blocking *Hope* from being born.During these days, we had called the midwife on call and explained what the doctors had said. She was shocked and couldn’t understand why they would suggest exercising. The panic I felt that morning, seeing the amount of blood, was horrific, and I mean that in the truest sense of the word. I immediately called 999. It took the fast-response team 11 minutes to arrive. When the paramedic arrived, he was very relaxed—which I couldn’t understand, because myself, my wife, and several others could see what was happening, and it wasn’t the time for relaxing at all.Jess was on the floor, on her knees, trying to lift herself up as she could feel Hope coming. My neighbor sat behind her, rubbing her back and talking her through it, trying to keep her as calm as possible. Then something amazing happened. My 14-year-old son walked in, sat beside his mom, and began helping her, talking to her, and doing whatever he could for her. I positioned myself in front of her, holding her head, reassuring her that everything would be all right.The paramedic then asked Jess to check if she was wet. About 20 minutes passed, and then the ambulance arrived. Two female paramedics came in and casually began chatting with the male paramedic on the couch, all the while telling us not to panic, so we didn’t need to panic—even though Jess was scheduled for a C-section due to significant blood loss. We couldn’t believe what we were hearing.The next thing that happened was the paramedic asked Jess to get into the wheelchair by herself—not with their help, but on her own. Jess couldn’t walk, so my son and I had to help her into the wheelchair. She was then moved to the end of our path, walked to the ambulance, and helped inside. The ambulance didn’t leave the cul-de-sac for another 10 minutes, at which point my neighbor rushed over to take our other two kids so they didn’t see anything.Eventually, what felt like an eternity later, they left. I called Jess’s aunt to let her know she was on the way to the hospital. About 20 minutes later, her aunt messaged me, saying Jess hadn’t arrived yet. At that exact moment, an ambulance helicopter flew over our estate. My mind went into overdrive because, just days before, I had been having a meltdown.Hope was born on the motorway, on the way to the hospital. She was without oxygen for just under 20 minutes, and was *dead on arrival at the hospital. She was ice-cold when they finally got her there, which may have helped slow the brain damage she could have suffered.Upon my arrival at neonatal doors there was no answer i started to panic,im not a religious man but at that moment i prayed like never before told god to take my life and to save hope i was frantic then the door buzzed open.When we got to Hope in neonatal care, we had to start being medically trained ourselves.She weighed 870 grams and was smaller than an Xbox controller—so small and delicate.Hope was suffocating on her sac during labor. She was classified as a "mermaid baby" because of this. She had no oxygen for around 20 minutes, and her brain, lungs, and heart were damaged because of it. She was born on the motorway, just 2-3 minutes away from the neonatal unit. If the paramedics hadn’t been so slow at our house in the cul-de-sac, or taken her to A&E, or even tried pediatrics, Hope would have been in a much better condition.The neonatal unit was amazing in many aspects. They talked us through everything that had happened, from the hole in her heart to meningitis, lung disease, bleeding on the brain—everything, down to the measurements of her milk. On September 29th, 2020, we were told Hope had taken a turn for the worst. She was baptised in her incubator by a Roman Catholic priest, and arrangements were made for her hands and feet to be moulded. We were even offered to visit a room where babies are laid to rest before their funerals.During Hope’s baptism, the priest drew a cross on her chest with holy water, and Hope started twitching. I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling completely overwhelmed, and I joked with the priest, saying, "That’s just the devil in her, fighting back." We all, including the neonatal nurses, laughed, which broke the gloom in the room for a brief moment.Hope started fighting. I’ve always told her, just like I tell my other kids, that if she gives 100% but still fails, I’ll be fine with it, because at least I know she’s tried with everything she has. As others have said, she is *#Hope* for a reason.That night was one of the longest of our lives, as two days later was the anniversary of our son’s passing. We needed her to fight; she wasn’t ready to go yet, and we certainly weren’t ready for that. I told her numerous times that she was just taking the mick out of me and her mum.The following month, Hope was injured in the neonatal unit by a medical professional. All hell broke loose as we worried about whether she could be hurt again while we weren’t there. This made us more anxious and distraught, but she kept fighting. Hope was discharged on December 19th, 2020, and we brought her home on oxygen, never leaving her side in her cocoon, with oxygen wires running throughout the house from oxygen tanks. She came off oxygen in late 2022.As she grows, we see strange movements, tiptoe walking, stimming, and unusual reactions to noises, but overall, she’s the most amazing young girl you could ever meet. She is now four and thriving, so clever. The battles we’ve faced as a family have been hard, but we keep going every day. This is one of the main reasons I get out of bed every day,working as hard as I can for people to keep Hope ahead of the curve and shield myself from the carnage that followed with my son.In December 2020. my son ran away from home because of what he went through and witnessed he is type 1 diabetic and was classed as High Risk Complications and Sudden Death,people with diabeties have a blood range of 4-7 my sons was 142.we tried everything to get him home even moved out of area and left our family home of 13 years in 2022 to try change things but to no avail.What followed was four years of carnage for us as a family, full of turmoil and emotional strain and heart ache.It was a constant struggle, one that added to the already difficult situation we were facing with Hope’s health. Despite everything, we never gave up. We had to keep fighting for her, and for all of our children. We dealt with the immense pressure, the heartbreak, and the uncertainty of what the future would hold.My wife is amazing—I couldn’t ask for a better mother to our kids. Seventeen years together, but the last four years have really bonded us together as a unit of strength and love.

Always be hopeful and grateful in life. Miracles can happen right in front of your eyes. 

HopefulofNFTs