At her 20-week scan, Laura was told her unborn baby had multiple heart defects. Here, she shares their journey — and how Tiny Tickers offered support along the way:
(The photos in this story were taken by and belong to the author, depicting their family’s personal journey.)
On the day of my 20-week scan, I sat eagerly waiting, with only two things on my mind: I can’t wait to see my baby again, and I can’t wait to find out their gender.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be told, “There’s something wrong with the baby’s heart, and you need to go for an urgent scan at a specialist hospital tomorrow.”
The following day, my baby—my little Noah—was diagnosed with a large VSD, tetralogy of Fallot (ToF), and a right aortic arch (RAA).
From that point on, my pregnancy was a whirlwind of appointments—growth scans, an amniocentesis, detailed heart scans, blood tests, and more tests on top of tests. With every appointment came more and more medical jargon that I had to try and wrap my head around.
I was under the care of three different hospitals, sometimes attending up to three separate appointments a week in different locations. It was completely overwhelming. I was a first-time mum, had just made the decision to become a single parent, and had recently moved hundreds of miles away from all my friends and family.
Then, in July 2024, my beautiful baby Noah was born via C-section.
He was taken straight to the NICU, where he was monitored around the clock. He remained under observation for a week, and then we were finally allowed to go home, under the close supervision of weekly appointments at the hospital.
Over the following weeks and months, Noah had several hospital stays—sometimes because I’d had to call an ambulance due to breathing difficulties, other times because he struggled to feed due to his high heart rate (it reached as high as 205 at one point while he was feeding).
Eventually, he was admitted to hospital, where he was fitted with an NG tube and started on diuretics to support his heart. After that stay, it was confirmed that Noah would need emergency surgery. He was placed on the urgent surgical waiting list, while we continued weekly hospital visits and were supported at home by community nurses.
Then came the hardest day of all.
In October 2024, Noah had his life-saving surgery. I carried my little soldier down to the theatre, trying my absolute best to stay strong for him. He was laughing, smiling, and showing off his beautiful personality to all the staff right up until the moment he was put to sleep. Then I was asked to leave. It felt like a part of me had been torn away.
For over eight hours, my mum and I walked around the city centre, doing everything we could to avoid stopping and letting our thoughts take over. We cried, we laughed, and we just kept walking.
Then came the call—he was out of surgery and in paediatric intensive care.
We ran through the hospital corridors to be with him. And there he was—my little boy—intubated, with wires everywhere, tubes coming from all parts of his tiny body, and a single tear falling from his left eye.
Noah spent three days in the PICU. At first, he struggled—his potassium levels kept dropping, and he developed pulmonary stenosis. He was placed on an external pacemaker to support him. Gradually, things began to stabilise.
He was transferred back to the ward. The pacemaker was removed, and within six days they took out his chest drain, arterial lines from both his neck and groin, and the pacemaker wires attached to his heart.
Finally, I was able to hold him properly again. I could give him a real cuddle—and it meant everything.
Noah still struggles with narrowed arteries, and there may be further medical interventions down the line if things worsen. But for now, we’re soaking up every second of having a happy, healthy, and adventurous little boy. He is the happiest, most cheerful baby—and he shows off his incredible personality to the world every day.
We are so thankful to everyone who has helped us on this journey—from the sonographer who first spotted the issue, to the team at Tiny Tickers who sent support packs and ran online groups, to the surgeons and staff who cared for our little boy. You are all real-life superheroes.
To anyone going through something similar: These little soldiers are stronger than you could ever imagine, the medical teams are heroes, and you—yes, you—are so much stronger than you believe.
Thank you for reading.
With love, Laura and Noah xx
Find out how Tiny Tickers can support you here.
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