One Hour At A Time

Day 6 of Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

by guest blogger Fatima Badri  (London, England)IMG_5356

I had a pretty normal pregnancy; all of our scans and tests showed that our beautiful boy was growing normally and we had nothing to worry about.

Our 36-week scan would be our last chance to see our boy before he made his big entrance into the world, so we were very excited. Little did we know that November 13, 2014 would be the day that our world would come crashing down.

“I see a tumour in the baby’s heart. I am going to ask a doctor to come in to double check,” said the sonographer. Within 10 minutes I had four doctors in the room, confirmation of several tumours and a probable diagnosis of tuberous sclerosis. I had the legal right to terminate, mental retardation, epilepsy all thrown at me by the doctors and I couldn’t utter a word. But inside I was screaming. This wasn’t happening to me; any minute now someone will say a mistake has been made, but unfortunately that minute never came.

The following week a fetal MRI showed brain tumours and a tuberous sclerosis diagnosis was confirmed.

I spent the next four weeks reading everything I found on the internet IMG_3640about TSC and I cried like I had never cried before. My heart ached for my baby, and it ached for my husband for losing the normal healthy son he was so looking forward to having. I resented every healthy baby and all the mothers that would never experience this overwhelming pain. Most of all I hated myself for being healthy but carrying a baby that had a disease that had no cure.

Eli was born on December 15. We had accepted his diagnosis and had great hope that we might be one of the lucky ones and his case would be a mild one. Once again God had other plans for us. Eli started having seizures from birth. Doctors gave us worst case scenarios and told us that the likelihood of Eli being a severe case was high as he presented with seizures so early on. That night I begged God that whatever Eli ends up with, please don’t take him away from me. To this day I refuse to ask the question about his life expectancy.

IMG_2762Eli is now 4 and half months old, we are at the beginning of our journey and the road ahead of us is long , there are many uncertainties that lie ahead.My heart breaks a little more with every test Eli has. People tell me that I’m strong but I don’t see what other choice I have. My son needs me to be strong for him. He needs me to fight this disease and not give up.

With every milestone that Eli meets my heart soars with happiness, but at the same time a crippling fear overtakes me; one big seizure and he could lose it all.

One night when I felt nothing but despair, a mother of a TSC child told me to take it an hour at a time and not think too far ahead. At times I catch myself looking at young boys out and about and wonder if my Eli will be like them? Will he ever talk, walk or have friends, but then I have to stop myself and come back to the here and now.

My boy smiles at me when he wakes up in the mornings and for that I am eternally grateful.

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3 thoughts on “One Hour At A Time”

  1. He’s so cute! If I could meet you I would give you a big hug and cry with you bc I know how you feel. He’s a precious gift, I pray his seizures get under control!

  2. Mashallah such a beautiful boy and amazing mum. I pray that all your prayers for this beautiful boy be answered and you have a long happy life together xxx

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