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Don't die, our baby needs you

As a new life grew in my tummy, was another one slipping away?


Published by: Jean Jollands
Published on: 28 February 2013

Rushing in the door from work, my boyfriend Jason waved a carrier bag under my nose and beamed as he produced a tiny pink romper suit.
‘This baby is going to have a bigger wardrobe than me!' I groaned.
Jason could hardly wait for our baby girl to arrive. He was constantly coming home with little outfits. I was just 18 and worried that people would think we were just another young couple doing too much, too soon. But knowing what a brilliant daddy Jason would be made my fears melt away.
Sure enough, when our daughter Libby came along, he was besotted. Every day he rushed home from his window-cleaning job, desperate to cuddle her.
Often, I'd catch him standing over her crib.
‘I was just checking that she was breathing,' he'd say.
‘There's no need to fret so much,' I teased.
‘I just want to make sure my princess is okay,' he smiled.
He loved taking us to the park for picnics or treating us to days out at the zoo. He really was the perfect daddy.
Then, when Libby was six months old, I missed a period.
I did a test and two unmistakable blue lines flashed up.
It can't be, I thought. How are we going to manage?
I'd given up my job as a carer to be a full-time mum and we were only just getting by. Not wanting to worry Jason, I waited a few days before telling him.
‘Another baby?' he said, anxiously. ‘How will we cope?'
‘I've been wondering the same thing,' I sighed.
But as the news sunk in, we started to get excited.
‘With such a small age gap, at least they'll be close,' Jason said as he cuddled Libby.
He made me realise we didn't have to worry so much.
‘This baby is already loved,' I said. ‘That matters more than having loads of money.'
Weeks went by and my bump started to show. With Libby to look after, I was relieved not to have morning sickness. In fact, it was Jason who seemed under the weather. One morning when his alarm went off at 6am, he groaned and put his head under the pillow.
‘I've got a blinding headache,' he croaked.
He dragged himself to work but, two hours later, he was back.
‘I feel really bad,' he sighed, sleepily.
Over the next few weeks, I grew really worried. His headaches got so bad that he decided to go to A&E. But when the CT scan came back, it was clear.
Then, one night, I was woken by a strange gurgling noise.
‘Jason?' I gasped.
His eyes were wide open and his body was jerking violently. I screamed and scrambled to him as he fell off the bed. Blood was dribbling from his mouth. Terrified, I rang 999. Paramedics arrived and rushed him to hospital. I paced up and down all night while doctors did tests.
Next morning, a consultant came to Jason's bedside with the results of the latest scan.
‘We think you have a brain tumour,' she explained. ‘But I really don't think that it could be cancerous.'
I just sat there silently weeping as Jason took a tight hold of my hand.
‘It's probably not cancer,' he soothed. ‘Let's hope for the best.'
The doctors gave Jason an MRI scan and a biopsy.
A week later, me, Jason, his brother Darren and his parents crowded into the consultant's office to hear the results. As soon as I saw her shocked face, my heart started thudding.
‘You have a rare brain tumour called a glioma,' she said gently. ‘And I'm afraid it's cancerous.'
I was so overwhelmed, it felt as if I was struggling to breathe.
But you said it wasn't cancer. He's only 24. We have a baby on the way...
‘We'll do our best to help him with radiotherapy and chemo,' she continued. ‘But, I'm sorry to say, it's incurable.'
The room filled with the sound of me and Jason's mum crying. My hand instinctively went to my small bump. I was 15 weeks pregnant and as one life was about to begin, it seemed that another was ending. How long did he have? Would this little mite growing inside me ever meet its daddy?
I was too scared to ask these questions out loud.
As we waited for treatment to begin, Jason kept a brave face. ‘I'm going to fight this,' he promised. ‘I'll be there at the birth.'
I desperately wanted to believe him as he spoke about taking us fishing and to the zoo, but I was too sick with fear.
At 20 weeks, my scan revealed that I was having a girl, but there was no time for celebration. Four days later, we were back at hospital for Jason to begin his six weeks
of radiotherapy.
My little sister Gemma, 15, did a sponsored head shave in Jason's honour. Shaving her beautiful blonde hair off raised £2,940 for Macmillan Cancer Support. We were both so proud of her. And as Jason chuckled with Gemma over her new hairdo, it was hard to believe how poorly he was.
Soon, though, the side-effects of his treatment began to take hold. He struggled to walk or lift Libby and his body became so bloated from medication he gained 3st.
Now, Jason has started 10 months of intensive chemo and I'm due to give birth in five weeks. My greatest wish is that he's there by my side.
Every moment we have is precious. When he leaves his socks on the bathroom floor these days, I don't nag. I cherish the normality that will one day be ripped away from me.
He doesn't talk about the future, the fishing trips and the outings to the zoo anymore. But we don't speak about funerals or death either because we can't bear that. And although I know it's against all odds, I am praying that we don't ever have to. I'm just hoping for a miracle.

We will be updating Jason and Charlotte's story in an April issue.

• You don't have to face cancer alone. The Macmillan team is here to support you every step of the way. For more information or to donate, visit www.macmillan.org.uk or call 0808 808 0000.


Charlotte Driver, 19, Soham, Cambridgeshire