As most of you know Kaycee Brooks is 18 months old (corrected age 14 months, meaning if she was born on her due date this would be her age now) She is a surviving twin and was born at 25 weeks and 2 days. Her sister, Corrie (said like the boy’s name Corey, not after my favourite soap … ha) sadly passed away in the womb at 25 weeks.



Kaycee has spent most of her life in hospital. In total she has spent a mere 9 weeks at home on and off, the longest stretch being 10 days without a Hospital admission. She has given the hardest strongest fight of survival and still to this day (01.03.2012) Kaycee is still fighting and literally living life on the edge.



I thought it would be nice to let people know her full background and share her life experience properly, just for future reference for Kaycee to read back on when she’s a big girl and also to help or guide, anyone who will either experience any part of this situation.



The reason for me publishing a blog, with a donation button on is not out of pure cheek, not us being a charity case but simply to raise a bit of money for Kaycee, her future, her care (if we need to seek quicker care privately) travelling and living expenses whilst we hold vigil besides Kaycee. I do not want anyone to think we are begging, I just feel with all the support we have people will understand, and not take pity but want to support us. We are hospitalised and we aren’t living in “real life” and people are always always asking what can we do to help. So I spoke to a support worker and she suggested this and to be honest it has took me a good number of months to actually do this, to sit down and re-live Kaycee’s life and to relive my experience with my other daughter Corrie.



It does bring back a lot of painful but happy memories but also angers me at the same time because I do see it from other peoples points of view, when I sit down and think of our situation and see that we have and are in such a bad position in life. But we have been dealt with these cards in life and we have to deal with that.



I am only as strong as I am because I have the most amazing daughter anyone could ever dream of having and I think this applies to most premmie parents or long term sick children. You truly are blessed to have a special child. I totally believe that we are blessed and I do not wish to change anything in my life. I just wish better health for Kaycee and may be one day be that in 1 month’s time or 10 years we will live a normal happy life as a family at home. But in the meantime I will make sure every 24 hours of my daughter’s life has a special memory. Not only does she inspire her army of fans but she is a true inspiration to us as parents. And the most warmest thought is I have two of these girls, and although Corrie isn’t here, I know she is exactly the same as Kaycee and wherever she is she is being a cheeky girl and making everyone love her just as much as Kaycee is doing down here with us.



I am truly truly blessed to be her mummy.



About Me

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There are no classes in life for beginners: right away you are always asked to deal with what is most difficult.

The real nightmare begins … February 16th 2011

It was a Wednesday morning about 7am Michael rang me.  He always rang me that time before work as he rings Kaycee in morning to see how she has done overnight.   He told me she wasn’t the best and that overnight she had gone on to bipap (yet again Oldham failed to ring me to notify me) Michael wanted me to go up to just check on her before I made a start on her bedroom ready for Kaycee coming home.   
I jumped out of bed cause my phone rang again, I thought it was Michel forgetting to tell me something but wait …    “SCBU OLDHAM” on my phone screen, that was odd why are Oldham ringing me now, normally I would let it ring a few times but something was telling me to answer quicker, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I don’t remember much from the conversation just the words “Kaycee is not good, come quick”   I knew this was bad because Oldham never rung us ever to update on phone. 
I remember frantically trying to get back in touch with Michael and when he eventually answered all I could say was “My baby is not good, she needs us!”  I made contact with my parents and I could hardly speak to them the words just wouldn’t come out at all.   I remember getting dressed and thinking, I can’t wear this I look stupid (I had my Pj’s on, Ugg boots and a scruffy top) but I knew wasting time wasn’t an option.    
It had been snowing too which made life so much harder because everything was icy and trying to de-ice a banger was not the easiest or quickest of tasks at the best of times never mind when you need to be there like half an hour ago.   In the end I just cleared the driver’s side of the car and set off.  
I don’t remember much of the car journey up there other than jumping plenty of red lights and Bruno Mars Grenade playing on the radio.   I was crying loads because I just needed to get up there quickly and safely and I was doing none.   I dumped my car on the main road on double yellows and ran up to the unit.  
On arriving at the unit one of the nurses was waiting at the door for me, she opened it and her face said it all.  I just remember feeling very faint and was hysterical screaming “please don’t tell me my baby has left me before I could say bye”.  It was horrible, I remember thinking I need to see her, but do I want to see her.  What am I going to do?  What am I going to tell people? How can this be happening?  Too many things were going round in my head. 
I got up to the room and my eyes were hurting from the tears, my heart was pounding inside.   I felt this hand on my shoulder and voice say “I’m sorry!” … I thought that was it, I thought she has left.   Then the doctor spoke.  Everything she said didn’t really go in.  I just heard “unwell, critical, died, vented”  I just couldn’t take everything in that I was seeing or hearing.
Kaycee didn’t look like my baby, she looked terrible.  Like something you see out of a scary film (only way I can describe it and want to describe it to be honest)   Kaycee had needed her heart starting twice, drugs to keep her sedated as she was very critical and she was vented.   I touched her hand and her oxygen saturations plummeted.  I was told off the doctor not to touch her as she was VERY unstable and the slightest thing could rock the boat in a big way.   By this time Michael had arrived, I hadn’t noticed he had been there for half an hour getting the low down of what has happened.  I felt like I was stood in a room all alone with my poorly baby screaming for help.  It was horrible. 
Kaycee’s consultant explained that she was getting transferred to a hospital where they could deal with her more and put her on a vent that would aid her a bit more.  Her words after that were every parent’s worst nightmare.  “She won’t survive this though, she’s very poorly” she seemed to repeat it and repeat it and told us she has to keep telling us because she knew it wasn’t going in and we needed to prepare for the worse.   I just felt numb.
It took several hours to sort Kaycee out and get her stable enough for transport.  I remember driving down me and Michael in the car, not speaking just in total shock. 

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