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What I Discovered After Nearly Losing My Daughter
by Emily Carter
July 10, 2023
“Mama! Mama!” My 1-year-old daughter wailed through the baby monitor.
“Coming!” I replied, setting down my freshly brewed coffee.
As I made my way to her room, my lips curled into a cheerful “Good morning!” But as I pushed open the door, a chilling sight met my eyes. Instead of standing up, eagerly awaiting my arrival with outstretched arms, she was sitting on her bed, partially obscured by the crib railing.
And then I saw it.
My daughter sat there, frozen in place, a horrifying blanket of blood enveloping her. A thin stream flowed from her nose, staining her pajamas and skin, while her blonde hair was matted and darkened with blood. When I reached for her, her head drooped to one side like a lifeless doll.
“Something’s wrong with the baby!” I screeched to my husband in the next room.
In mere moments, he rushed into the nursery, his face reflecting my own panic. He tilted her head back and pinched her nose to halt the relentless flow of blood, but it continued to pour unchecked.
“We need to get her to the ER,” he urged, wrapping her blood-drenched blanket around her protectively.
I inhaled deeply and nodded, following him to the car. My shirt pressed against her little heart, which raced against my body, thumping a frantic rhythm that filled the silence all the way to the hospital.
Upon arrival, we were quickly ushered into a private room, where we awaited the attending physician. He entered moments later, accompanied by his assistant, both visibly shaken by our daughter’s condition. Every inch of her, and mine, was stained in varying shades of red. After a quick examination, we were informed she required immediate transfer to Texas Children’s Hospital.
Inside the ambulance, I anxiously scanned her small frame, praying for signs of life. Clutching her limp hand, I voiced my fears. Suddenly, her body convulsed, and a torrent of bloody vomit surged from her mouth. It felt as if invisible threads were tightening around my throat, stealing the breath from my lungs. I was paralyzed, unable to think or move, only able to scream in anguish.
When we arrived at the hospital 30 minutes later, a flurry of medical professionals surrounded her, connecting her to machines and tubes. A cacophony of urgent voices filled the room.
My husband and I stood frozen, gripped by fear, silently urging her to stay strong.
“Excuse me, Sir/Ma’am?” a nurse broke through our shock. “Please follow me.”
We complied, trailing her to the back of the ICU.
At Texas Children’s, doctors discovered our daughter’s platelet count was alarmingly low. To put it in perspective, a typical platelet count for children ranges from 150,000 to 300,000. Our daughter’s count? A mere 3,000. This was concerning because low platelet counts elevate the risk of severe bleeding, as blood cannot clot normally.
When she experienced a nosebleed, her platelets should have formed a seal over the injury, but that didn’t happen. As a result, she suffered significant blood loss, developed anemia, and required a blood transfusion. Just the day before, she had seemed perfectly healthy, and now she was getting an IV line inserted to receive lifesaving donor blood.
Over the following hours, various specialists visited our hospital room, checking her vitals and reassuring us she was stable under the circumstances. They mentioned terms like leukemia and thrombocytopenia (ITP), indicating further tests were necessary before they could provide clarity.
“What’s happening now?” I asked repeatedly. “We will have answers soon,” our doctor would reply.
By early the next morning, we were relieved to learn our daughter did not have blood cancer but had instead developed a condition known as idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP). The doctor speculated that she had contracted a viral infection the previous month that led her immune system to mistakenly attack her platelets.
The prescribed treatment was intravenous immunoglobulin (IVIG) infusion therapy, aimed at resetting her immune system so it would cease attacking itself. Thankfully, the treatment worked; within 24 hours, her platelets returned to a normal level of 150,000, and 24 hours after that, we were able to take her home.
A year has elapsed since our daughter faced ITP. We still don’t know what triggered her condition. However, we do know that approximately 4 out of 100,000 children develop ITP each year; symptoms can vary from petechiae and excessive bruising to severe bleeding and, in some cases, death. Fortunately, for most children, it does not become chronic — and it didn’t for our daughter.
Yet, the experience left a lasting impact.
Our daughter’s hospital stay taught me that unexpected tragedies can strike at any moment, and that I cannot prevent them. What I’ve learned over the past year is that I cannot live in a constant state of dread. I can’t run to the doctor every time she gets a bruise, fearing that ITP might return. I refuse to let the trauma of that event overshadow our lives.
Instead, I focus on the positive aspects of her life. I celebrate that I was able to bring her home. I express gratitude for her life, made possible by the dedicated doctors who worked tirelessly to save her.
That’s what I can do, and that’s my resolve.
Being a parent means setting aside my own worries and fears to be a source of comfort for my child. I must believe, for both of our sakes, that we will be just fine.
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Summary:
In this reflective post, a mother recounts the harrowing experience of nearly losing her daughter due to a severe drop in platelet count, resulting in a life-threatening condition known as ITP. Through the ordeal, she learns valuable lessons about the unpredictability of life and the importance of focusing on the positive aspects of parenting. Her story emphasizes the need to balance worry with gratitude and the strength found in the support of medical professionals.