Miracle mum Merisa shares Amina's story:

At 25 weeks pregnant, I walked into the birthing unit with a quiet fear I couldn’t explain. I had noticed decreased fetal movement. It was my first pregnancy, and a million thoughts were rushing through my mind. So many people told me not to worry, that it was still too early to feel consistent movement, that it was probably nothing. But I had learned my baby’s rhythm, and something deep inside me whispered that this was not something to ignore. I chose to trust my instincts.

On the 6th of March 2025, our world changed forever. We were told our baby girl had suffered a massive foetal–maternal haemorrhage. She had lost nearly all of her blood. The obstetricians told us plainly that if I hadn’t come in when I did, our baby would not be here today.

Options were discussed that no parent ever imagines having to face. Delivering her immediately was one possibility, but the chances of survival were heartbreakingly slim. Termination was also discussed, out of fear for her quality of life with her tiny body having to work a million times harder to pump what little blood she had left. As first-time parents, and being so young, our pregnancy instantly transformed from excitement and dreams into fear, uncertainty, and unimaginable weight.

In that darkness, we held tightly to our faith in God and to the incredible Foetal Medicine Unit team at Liverpool Hospital, Professor Jon Hyett, Dr Evelyn, and Professor Smoleniec. With their guidance and care, we chose hope.

We underwent an intrauterine blood transfusion, praying with every breath that our baby would be strong enough to endure it. The days and hours that followed were filled with tension and fear, because we truly didn’t know what could happen next.

But by the grace of God and the skill of her medical team, the procedure was a success.

From that moment on, my pregnancy became a high risk journey. There were countless appointments, scans, and anxious waits, all to ensure there would be no further complications. Each scan carried both fear and hope.

At 34 weeks, we were told there were potential growth concerns and fear of another foetal-maternal haemorrhage happening. And then, at 35 weeks and 5 days, our beautiful baby girl, Amina, was born.

While her birth was the moment we had waited for, it was followed by one of the most daunting experience of all, having to go home without my baby. Leaving the hospital with empty arms felt unnatural and heartbreaking. I still remember every morning and night, walking through the hospital, making my way back into the NICU to see her. Those walks were heavy with exhaustion, fear, and hope all at once, yet they became a routine filled with love, strength, and determination to keep going for her.

Amina spent 14 days in the NICU. She was on and off CPAP, fighting in the quiet, brave way only tiny warriors do. Slowly, she grew stronger. She came off respiratory support. We began establishing feeds. Every small milestone felt like a miracle.

Today, Amina is 7 months old, healthy, strong, and as happy as ever. She is living proof that instinct, faith, medicine, and perseverance can come together to create miracles.

To the NICU nurses, doctors, specialists, and staff, thank you will never be enough. Thank you for your patience, your compassion, your skill, and the way you cared not only for our baby, but for us as parents when we were at our most vulnerable. You hold families together in their darkest hours, and your work changes lives forever.

And to the families currently walking the NICU journey: even in calamity, there is still hope. Even when the road is terrifying and uncertain, miracles do happen. Hold on. Trust your instincts. Lean on your faith, your medical teams, and each other. Your story is still being written.

Ours certainly was, and it led us to Amina.