When Callan was born, everything changed in an instant. What began as a routine pregnancy soon revealed a heart condition: coarctation of the aorta. At just 10 days old, Callan underwent life-saving surgery, leaving his family holding onto hope. Now, 15 weeks later, he’s thriving, a testament to resilience and early detection. Callan’s story underscores the importance of listening to your instincts and advocating for your child. His journey is far from over, but every day is a victory.

Our journey with Callan began long before he took his first breath. Looking back, it’s still hard to process all that we’ve been through, but here it is—our story, one of anxiety, fear, hope, and strength. It’s a story that is, at its core, about trusting your instincts and the power of early detection, a journey that, for us, meant facing some of the most harrowing moments of our lives.

It all started at my 20-week anomaly scan. I had been looking forward to this scan, the one that would reᴀssure me everything was going as it should. For the most part, it did. However, when the sonographer reached the part of the scan where they check the heart, I could see her pause. I’ll never forget the way she looked at the screen, her brow furrowing in concern. She said she thought there was an extra vein visible, which prompted a referral to Fetal Medicine. I tried not to panic, but of course, I did. I spent a week in anxious limbo before we attended the appointment at Fetal Medicine. They told us that Callan had a condition called bilateral superior vena cava (SVC). They reᴀssured us that everything else looked fine and that there was no need for concern. I wish I could have believed them.

The following months were filled with more scans and appointments. We were seen by Fetal Medicine two more times during my pregnancy, and each time, we were told everything was fine and that once Callan was born, he would have a simple scan, and everything would be checked. The medical team said they would know the specifics once he was born and that they would arrange a scan then. But when Callan arrived, the scan never happened, and I now know that this oversight would be the first of many that would haunt us later.

Callan was born via cesarean section on June 4th. His big brothers were overjoyed to welcome him into the world, and we were filled with excitement and relief. We were discharged from the hospital a few days later, thinking everything was fine. However, just ten days later, everything changed. I began to notice something wasn’t quite right. His breathing seemed fast, and he was sick after almost every feed. Worse still, he hardly drank any milk at all. I immediately called the cardiac nurse specialist and requested an echo, but in the meantime, we decided to take Callan to the children’s A&E for a check.

We were told everything was fine and that it was just a minor issue. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. Something in my gut told me to push harder. I’m so glad I didn’t listen to the initial reᴀssurance and took him back the next day. What happened next is something I will never forget—it felt like a scene from Casualty.

At the hospital, they performed an echo on Callan. As they did, Callan’s dad and I anxiously waited. Then, the doctor gave us the news that would change our lives forever: Callan was in heart failure. The team immediately began stabilizing him in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). The consultant didn’t yet know exactly what was wrong, but they told us to prepare ourselves for a long and uncertain road. I felt as though I was suffocating—how could this be happening? How had we missed something so serious, especially after being seen by Fetal Medicine three times?

The next day, after more tests and observations, the consultant came to us with a definitive diagnosis: Coarctation of the Aorta (COA). Callan also had a bicuspid valve, though they reᴀssured us that it seemed to be functioning okay for the time being. The consultant explained that Callan would need surgery in two days, but he had stabilized enough to be prepared for the operation. That was a small comfort, but the gravity of the situation was overwhelming. My tiny baby, just ten days old, was about to undergo open-heart surgery.

The day of the operation was the longest and most terrifying day of my life. I vividly remember feeling completely helpless as I waited. I screamed in frustration, fear, and anguish. When we got the call that the surgeon wanted to speak to us, we ran to the ICU, hearts pounding. Thankfully, the surgery was a success. We breathed a collective sigh of relief, but we knew the hardest part was far from over.

Callan’s recovery in the ICU was a delicate balancing act. For the next six days, we stayed by his side, watching as he fought to recover from the surgery. I’ll never forget walking into the ICU and seeing my baby boy, lying there with his chest open and surrounded by machines. It was the most overwhelming fear I’ve ever felt. There is no way to describe the pain, the helplessness, and the sheer terror of seeing your child in that state. But as the days went by, I started to see small signs of progress, and I clung to them with all my might.

Eventually, Callan was stable enough to leave the ICU and move to the ward, where he continued to recover. We had been told he would likely be in the hospital for months, but the recovery was much quicker than expected. The consultant who had initially seen us and was unsure of Callan’s prognosis came to us and apologized, admitting that he had been wrong about Callan. That was a bittersweet moment—knowing how close we had come to losing him made everything feel even more precious.

Now, 15 weeks post-operation, Callan is thriving. He has been through so much, yet you would never know by looking at him. He’s a happy, lively baby, and despite ongoing cardiology check-ups, the doctors have told us that Callan is likely to live a normal, healthy life. That is all we could have ever hoped for, and we’re grateful every day for the miracle that is our son.

Throughout this journey, I have become incredibly pᴀssionate about the importance of early detection of heart defects. Callan’s case was traumatic, and the entire experience has been emotionally and mentally challenging. If we had known about his condition earlier, we could have been better prepared, both mentally and emotionally. Early detection could have meant that Callan’s surgery was more controlled, and it might have saved us from so many sleepless nights and months of worry.

I’ve learned that pulse oximetry screening in every hospital is critical. It’s a simple, non-invasive test that can save lives. That’s why I’m taking part in The 125 Challenge to raise funds and awareness for this crucial cause. I want to ensure that every baby born has the chance for early detection, so no parent has to go through what we did.

During Callan’s recovery, I found solace in the stories shared by Tiny Tickers, an organization that provides support for families facing heart conditions. Their positive stories about COA were my lifeline during some of the darkest moments. Knowing that there were families who had walked a similar path and come out the other side gave me hope, and I hope Callan’s story can do the same for others.

To any parent facing a similar journey, know that you are not alone. Callan’s story is a testament to the strength of our little ones, and the power of trusting your instincts, no matter how much you’re told to dismiss your concerns. Early detection saves lives—never doubt your intuition, and always advocate for your child. Our journey is far from over, but with each day, we are more hopeful than ever for Callan’s future.