Every day, Ceri Christie counts her blessings. She

is grateful for the love
and support of her family and
friends.
But, most of all, she is grateful
for her beloved daughter,
Franceska.
Both Ceri and her daughter
were seriously ill when Franceska
was born and it was touch and
go whether they would survive.
Franceska, who is now 13, was
left with a catalogue of medical
conditions and for her and her
family life is a series of daily
struggles.
But Ceri is in no doubt. She
feels lucky to be alive and treasures
every day with her daughter.
She said: “What I had was
extremely rare, it was amniotic
fluid embolism.”
It means fluid, fetal cells, hair
or other debris enters the mother’s
bloodstream and can trigger
lung and heart collapse.
Ceri survived and she said: “I
think I was one of the lucky
ones.”
And that is Ceri’s attitude to
life. She does not waste time and
energy thinking ‘Why me?’ or
‘Why my daughter?’
Instead, she is warmed by the
love she shares with her daughter,
she considers her life
enriched and is repeatedly overwhelmed
by Franceska’s astonishing
fighting spirit.
She said: “I had to have an
emergency Caesarean because
my immune system was failing.
“Franceska did not breathe for
eight minutes. It was no one’s
fault. What I had was extremely
rare.
“We were both taken to intensive
care units. I was on a ventilator
and was in there for three
days.
“Franceska was also ventilated
and was in the baby intensive
care unit.
“I remember waking up and
thinking ‘where is my baby?’
“It was 50/50 if she was gong to
make it because she was so poorly.
I was told they
did not know if she
was going to live or
die.
“I was so glad to
see her when I did.
People were worried
I would not
bond because of
what had happened,
but I just
remember being
overwhelmed with
love for her.
“I was just willing
her to get better.
I could not wait to
get her home.”
After five weeks,
Franceska was discharged
from Colchester
General
Hospital.
When she was
five months old,
doctors gave Ceri
and her husband, Alistair, their
diagnosis – Franceska had quadriplegic
cerebral palsy.
She also has a number of other
complications, including scoliosis,
a curvature of the spine.
Her condition is severe. One
lung has been flattened and other
organs are being crushed as she
grows.
The hospital admissions are
becoming more frequent and
more life-threatening as her body
struggles to cope.
Add to that a perforated bowel
and lung disease.
Franceska has to be nourished
with milk through a tube into her
bowel and with fluids through
another line.
She is constantly on oxygen
and, at night, she has a ventilator
which helps her to breathe.
Ceri has not had an unbroken
night’s sleep since Franceska was
born.
She gets up three or four times
a night when the alarm tells her
Franceska’s oxygen levels have
dropped too low.
Franceska cannot speak,
although Ceri says she gets her
attention through noises.
She admits to having low times
when Franceska is given a bad
diagnosis or is re-admitted to hospital.
But Ceri is defiantly happy. She
smiles warmly as she talks about
Franceska, her favourite TV programme
– Mr Tumble – and how
her cousins Gemma, 13, and
Rosie, ten, read to her.
She said: “I think it is an
absolute privilege to have her.
“She has made me a better person,
a much stronger person.
“She has brought lots of love to
the family.
“I am so lucky to have such a
close family. My parents, Lyn and
Mick, live next door and her
cousins are so close to her.
“Franceska has taught the
other children to be more under

standing. My niece, Abigail,
is now a paediatric nurse at
the Royal Brompton Hospital
in London and works in the
paediatric intensive care
unit.”
There is joy to be found,
too, at the Little Havens children’s
hospice.
Ceri takes Franceska there
from their home in Alresford
for respite care about four
times a year.
She said: “When someone
first said about going to the
hospice, I thought ‘Oh, no’.
“I thought everyone would
be sat around there looking
miserable. I could not have
been more wrong.”
Ceri stays with Franceska
and gets medical support
from the specialist nurses –
and plenty of cake.
“The cake is great,” she
joked. “I just sit there and
eat!”
Franceska, meanwhile,
enjoys music therapy and
the sensory room.
Her cousins, Gemma and
Rosie, are invited, too, and
attend Krafty Kids and VIP
groups for the family of hospice
visitors.
As times goes on, Franceska’s
condition is deteriorating.
Her admissions to Great
Ormond Street Hospital in
London have increased.
One, when she contracted
pneumonia, was featured on
a TV documentary.
The programme, called
Delicate Balance, followed
her while she was in the
intensive care unit for three
weeks and was watched by
2.5million viewers.
Ceri said: “She was very
ill. I was given ‘the talk’
about keeping her alive, but
she proved them wrong. One
day, she woke up, she
bounced back. How, I don’t
know.
“I sobbed when I saw the
programme afterwards but
at the time I was strong. You
just are.”
When you enter Ceri’s
home, it feels warm. There is
humour, life and love.
Ceri said: “Franceska is
too poorly for surgery.
“She would not get
through a 12-hour operation.
“What is most important
now is to keep her comfortable,
to keep her quality of
life. I feel she still has that.”
That and an awful lot of love.