Hello. My name is Sienna

Grandpa Ted Ansell, from Rockingham WA, tells Sienna’s story

I was taken from Mum’s tummy around 1.30 am on Sunday December 18, 2005 because my private space was becoming crowded. I weighed in at 880 gm. The fourteen medical staff standing around only allowed me a couple of soft whimpers before pushing tubes up my nose, in my mouth and tiny belly button. I’m just a little tired after what I’ve gone through in my short experience to date. Let me think, now –

• Over my first thirteen weeks, several of Mum’s hugely distended ova exploded very close by. I snuggled deep in my watery world, quite unaware Mum was in acute agony.

• At week 12, Mum’s doctor in Karratha advised her to visit Perth for testing as to whether I could be suffering from Down’s Syndrome. He was told this test was very delicate, and very risky.

• During our flight back home, Mum started bleeding heavily, and we were rushed to Karratha Hospital from the airport. The doctor told Mum we were in the high-risk category, and sadly, I would soon be leaving my cosy bed.

• In week 15, the doctor discovered that a sack of blood was sitting right on top of me, making it impossible for me to access Mum’s placenta=pantry. He didn’t need to say my case was hopeless – his face said it all. My early departure was now certain, just a matter of time. But fortunately I was not consulted. God and I had other plans. My Nana and Grandpa talked to Him about it.

• Week 18 and everyone was surprised and happy, because my umbilical cord had found a sneaky way around that sack of blood, and attached itself to Mum’s placenta to deliver my meals. But I couldn’t see anything to get excited about. If God feeds the birds, surely He would feed me. After all, He said I’m more important that they are.

• Doctor told Mum and Dad that if I can hang in for a further four weeks, I should go to Perth where experts can keep a close eye on my progress. Of course, Mum can come with me for company.

• Panic stations in week twenty. Something pulled my bathplug out, leaving me high and dry. Everyone was devastated, but I was just happy that heavy sack of blood had also gone. A minute later, doctor said my built-in pantry was coming away for the wall. Now that IS a worry! The kind obstetrician told Grandpa that night he was certain I would be leaving for the big outside world, but I knew I could never survive there – not at my age, anyway. So, I lay flat on my back, refusing to budge. Grandpa was told to try and keep Mum’s spirits up.

• Mum got to her lowest point emotionally, seriously wondering what she should do, particularly after being told what most other mothers would do. But Dad said, ‘No way! We must give God and me a chance. There is no other option’. Whew! Now that was close.

• October 7, Nana and Grandpa were due to leave for Perth, but were told the flight was cancelled until tomorrow. So my smart Mum organized for them to help Dad hang new curtains in my room, which I intend to occupy before long.

• Doctor told Mum I had not grown over the past two weeks, and that’s a bad sign. Well, what do they expect after all I’ve gone through? And besides, I’m not planning on being a ten-pounder like Mum when she was born. Anyway, Nana’s just arrived for her third stay with us, and her cooking will put weight on all three of us.

• It’s week 21, and I’m woken up again by that noisy ultrasound. Mum and Nana saw my heart-beat. I’ve gained a little weight, and there is some fluid in my stomach. After all, I don’t need a bathful just to have a drink. They all giggled at the way I moved my eyes under my eyelids. Even Grandpa in Perth was singing, ‘ … suffering children are safe in Your arms; there is none like you.’

• I’m in Perth again, week 22. Prof Newnham told Mum and Dad that I have had an unusually rough ride since Day 1, and should have put down my foot long ago and quit. But he generously gave me about 20% chance of surviving. A few days later, another doctor told Mum my lungs had failed to develop, and I would not be able to breathe air in the big people’s world. He was not quite so generous, giving me only a 1% chance. Now, that IS reassuring for me. He said my ribcage was depressed too. That’s not the only part of me that’s depressed. But God and I know better.

• Mum took me to hospital again in week 23 for a check-up. A new doctor examined us both, and broke the exciting news – wait for it – either Mum would evict me shortly, or if she doesn’t, I will finally come ‘dead on arrival’. Mum, Nana and Grandpa drove home from Subiaco without saying a word. I wasn’t game to open my mouth either. Next week he said the same thing, but that’s only his opinion .We all know that after all the hurdles I’ve been through, God has some very special purpose for me in that big people’s world, and I’m hanging in to find out.

• Beginning week 25, Mum had urgent need to get to hospital ASAP. After six hours the hospital sent her home. Minutes after getting home, Mum had an even more urgent need to get to hospital, They admitted her, and told her to stay put until I decided it was time to make my debut.

• Week 26, and Prof Newnham holds out good hope for Mum, but little for me. Apparently, I’m supposed to be standing on my head, but I find it far more comfortable flat on my back. He says that’s a real problem.

• Mum carted me off to Labour Ward twice in week 27, thinking I wanted to leave. But no-one asked me, and I wasn’t budging. Nana said to Grandpa, ‘Surely this is the beginning of the end for baby’. But he said he believed that it was merely the end of my beginning, and that God is still calling the shots. I agree with Grandpa, who reassured Nana that ‘ … although weeping may endure for the long night, joy comes in the morning.’

• Beginning of week 29, Mum got Nana and Grandpa out of bed, phoning them to say that my heart was racing, and doctor has declared they are not waiting around any longer – I am coming, ready or not!

• So I was rudely awakened and dumped down in front of fourteen big people wearing green gowns. It was quite emotional for me seeing Mum’s face for the first time, although her voice was very familiar. But I didn’t realize the person wearing a blue gown was my Nan, who melted in tears at my tiny form. She said my barely audible whimper was the most beautiful sound she has ever heard. There we were – we three girls. Dad was desperately arranging a flight to Perth, and Grandpa was snoring on some hospital lounge.

I really hope I haven’t bored you with my story, but it’s very important to me (and Mum, of course). I have been told on good authority that you also have felt it is important, because you have been speaking many times with God about it, asking him to take good care of me, and for peace and strength for my family, specially on those many scary occasions the doctors had given up any hope for me. Thank you so much for your interest, your love and your prayers for the five of us.

I really would like to meet you all one day, just so you can see for yourself that, ‘Our God is able – in spite of every obstacle and discouragement.’

PS. I’ve been told to stay here for another eight weeks until I’m big enough to go home with Mum.

		Update on Sienna:  After three months in hospital, with Mum by my side, I was allowed to fly back to Karratha. However, I picked up some nasty virus on the plane, and so after a few days at home, I was rushed to Port Hedland hospital by the Royal Flying Doctor.
Two weeks there and another five days back at Karratha hospital got me right again, although it was tough on Mum. Luckily Nana was there to help us all. Nana says that I have grown into a bright and alert little girl, even though I am still not very large. Now that I am over one year old, I have gone to visit my relatives in Switzerland!

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