It took 1904 days for Tilly to be diagnosed with the rare metabolic disorder called GAMT deficiency. 1722 days of waiting from when I realised she wasn’t quite right at six ish months old.
Almost 2000 sleepless nights. Almost 2000 days wondering what the hell I did to cause this. Almost 2000 days of holding my breath. Waiting for them to tell me the neurologists were right and it was degenerative, that it would leave her quadriplegic and unable to do any of the things she loved. Waiting for them to tell me it would kill her. That I’d have to live my life without her one day. I can’t tell you about the nightmares I’ve had. The words won’t come. Just know that they were the type of nightmares that woke me in the middle of the night sobbing and struggling to breathe. All I ever wanted in life was a daughter, I couldn’t let myself think about losing her. My subconscious thought about it for me, I drowned in my dreams instead.
Drowning. Who knew you could feel like you were drowning whilst sat in a hospital room a few miles away from the sea. You can. You can sit there and feel the air leave your body as the professionals tell you that your child’s EEGs look bad, that the medications aren’t working, that things are getting worse. I have sat and silently drowned more times than I let myself recall. The pain is unbearable, the searing heat that rips down the back of your throat whilst you try to sit there and look composed and nod in all the right places…
Two weeks ago I had a call from Tilly’s geneticist. They had found a diagnosis. GAMT deficiency. She wasn’t going to regress, she wasn’t going to live in her wheelchair, she wasn’t going to die.
Because there is treatment for her condition.
My girl may well be able to talk, run, sing, jump, shout and do all the things she wants to do.
Again, I can’t describe how I feel about that. The joy is so pure and so unbelievably amazing that there aren’t the words. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think she could be treated. Never.
Never did I dare to believe I could go on to have more children. But I can now if I want to.
It took me approximately 48 hours to realise the full extent of Tilly’s diagnosis. I was and am so happy about treatment options that I glossed straight over one glaring fact.
If it had been diagnosed at birth, she would have been saved from all this.
Treatment from birth has led to children being either unaffected or only mildly mentally “impaired”.
The sheer fucking unfairness that my child didn’t have to be like this. That she could’ve been the girl she was meant to be. That hurts. That hurts like a knife to the stomach. One blood test at a few days old and I could have saved her from all of this. She didn’t have to be locked into the prison that is her mind for all these years. She could’ve been free.
Dwelling on that will kill me. So my focus is on gearing up ready to start her on treatment and look forward to all the improvements she will hopefully make on it. She will never be “cured”. She will never not have severe learning difficulties but she will achieve everything she wants to. I feel unbelievably lucky that my child’s diagnosis has given her a very exciting, new future. I know full well that 99.99% of the time, this isn’t the case. In the back of my mind I am thinking of the parents who didn’t get this news. Who were told their worst nightmares were coming to life. I only wish I could share this with them. No parent deserves to go through that.
I have always said my girl would rule the world and she will, in her own wonderful way.
Bring on the future.