And this is Jackson James Charlesworth, the newest addition to my little tribe—baby number 3. As a counsellor who often holds space for trauma in my clients, I can say that Jackson’s entry into this world was one that I truly felt could break me. I was traumatised. Finally, almost one year on, I am ready to write about his story.
Jackson woke me up in ways I never even knew I needed. I practise gratitude daily that our story is one that has a happy ending. I know that there are many families out there that do not. I want to share Jackson’s story because not only has it shown me firsthand that connection is the life raft that leads us through trauma, but it also helped me realise that everything can change in an instant. I thought I was going from 3 babies to 2. I thought I would never come out the other side. I questioned everything. But ultimately, I am here. I am a mom of 3. I am blessed in abundance. Jackson has given me the purest love. It is something I commit to daily, never taking for granted. Each day is a gift that I cherish as if it’s my last.
Within 24 hours, I went from the happiest moment of my life—when my 3 kids met in the hospital and instantly connected. Truly, I can’t say how elated that made me feel. Seeing the love in my 6 and 7-year-olds’ eyes, their tears of joy, was the best moment of my life.
Later that evening, however, everything changed. Jackson started having seizures. He was rushed to the NICU. The first month of his life was not what we had hoped for. The dream of nesting at home with him as a healthy little baby and settling into our new routine was not to be. We spent his first month in a high-care paediatrics ward. Our poor little boy was poked and prodded nonstop. From multiple lumbar punctures, EEGs, MRIs, ultrasounds, copious amounts of blood tests, to surgery to insert a port because his veins couldn’t cope with the amount of antibiotics—the list goes on.
Ten days in, we realised that our perfect little baby boy had brain damage due to suffering multiple strokes. I will never forget that day of the MRI. My limp 10-day-old baby had to go under general anaesthetic. Ten days old, and they put him to sleep so they could get a scan of his brain. That day, the doctors floored us with the news that he had had multiple strokes. They told us he had brain damage as a result of these strokes. They said it could happen again at any moment. That day he was limp from all the anaesthesia. I can still vividly hear all the warning bells on the hospital machines showing his poor vitals. On top of all of this, he was also positive for COVID. That day was horrifying, the 3rd of November 2023. That day, we thought he wouldn’t make it through the night 😭
One of the things I remember most was the mixture of fear and sympathy I saw in the paediatricians’ eyes. He had no words. He could not explain what was happening to Jackson. No tests could explain it. The doctors’ helplessness was palpable. His exhaustion due to sleepless nights scanning articles to try to find some semblance of hope or treatment was evident. Passing the nurses and resident doctors in the hospital, they looked at us with such sympathy. They all knew Jackson’s story. They were all connecting, trying to find a solution. They knew the confusion and had no words. They knew he could have another stroke at any minute that could be fatal. The next step was to run endless tests on every possible cause of stroke.
Jackson James, our little warrior, was in the hospital for 4 weeks. All he knew was a hospital room with different specialists interacting with him daily. He couldn’t even go outside as he had to be connected to monitors and tubes running antibiotics through his system. The trauma of watching this tiny newborn baby screaming due to constantly being poked and prodded was unreal. I was helpless and had never felt so disempowered. I was scared. There were constant “what ifs” and “should haves” replaying every decision I had made during pregnancy and labour with him.
Being separated from my other kids, who were also traumatised by the overwhelm of what was happening around them, killed me on such a deep level. They are my babies too, and they needed their mother for comfort and safety, but I could not be there. Never had they seen their parents so overwhelmed with fear and sadness. They experienced our emotions, no matter how much we tried to shelter them from it. We had support from our loved ones, who we are forever grateful for, but even our friends and family were overwhelmed by the fear and what-ifs.
Each time a test came back, there continued to be no explanation. Apart from the seizures, Jackson did not present as a baby who had strokes or brain damage. A few days after the MRI, his vitals all became stable. He was feeding and responding well. His seizures had stopped. The way he presented did not make sense. The doctors were amazed. Finally, we started to breathe. When no tests determined the cause, we could accept that possibly these strokes were random and might not happen again.
Although this is scary and anything can still happen, I can gladly say that we live in the moment with Jackson. Almost one year in, and he is achieving all his milestones. He still goes for his checkups, and every time we are reassured that our boy is healthy. There is still the possibility that the consequences of the brain damage will show as he grows, but we will cross whatever bridge we have to when we get there. We have been blessed with our boy being here, and however that may look in the future is exactly as it should be.
What I learned through this experience is that whatever we go through, we go through it together. When the kids would ask me about Jackson, so innocently, if he was going to die, I would tell them with tears streaming down my face that I do not know, but we have to pray that is not the case and that if it is, we have each other, and whatever happens, we will face it together. We are stronger together, and when we unite, magic happens—miracles happen. That is my experience. The family, friends, and community that rallied around us all lifted us up. They gave us strength to breathe life into our little boy, and it is that love that I believe healed him.
I learned that I am powerful. When the seizures started happening, I blamed myself. Did the decisions I made in pregnancy or labour cause these strokes? Did I stress too much, exercise too hard, have too much caffeine or sushi? Again, the what-ifs could drive me insane. I consciously had to call myself out on that thinking. I shared it with my husband and the doctors, who could reassure me. That attitude is defeating, and if I was going to give anything of myself to carry Jackson through, it was going to be light and positive energy. I was his lifeline. I was the only nourishment he was receiving, so I had to consciously shift my energy so I could show up for him.
I learned that I can be both strong and broken in one day. The shifts of the rollercoaster were overwhelming. One minute I would feel positive and like I could get through whatever was coming, and the next, I was a ball of tears, shaking and bargaining in disbelief. Eventually, I was able to allow the waves. I was afraid of them at first, but I realised every feeling is teaching me something. To experience such grief and fear for a loved one is to know true love, and through each wave, I was healing.
I learned that there is nothing that could make me feel more out of control than being a mother. No matter if I do everything right (which I don’t, by the way), I still do not have complete control over their well-being. All I can do is my best for them. I often say that good things happen to good people, but bad things also happen to good people. No one is exempt from pain, trauma, loss, or mourning. Accepting that is easier as time passes. Time heals.
I learned that angels are everywhere. This one really hits home for me. All I can say is wow. To the doctors, nurses, surgeons, specialists, friends, family, and strangers who showed us their kindness in a time we needed it most—a simple compliment from a nurse felt like absolute sunshine, a cooked meal for the family at home, a playdate for the kids to keep their minds off the realities of the situation. People shared their time and love with us, and although I’ve always known angels are on earth, this was a condensed month where I experienced them intensely. I feel blessed to have experienced that kind of love.
Jackson’s story is our miracle. Although I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, I am grateful for it. This is part of our family’s tapestry now. We are more connected because of it. I often wonder if the kids would be as obsessed with their little brother if they hadn’t had that experience of waiting excitedly every night to come to the hospital to visit and counting down the days until Jackson and mommy got home. I don’t know the alternative, but I know what we have now is pure perfection. It has united my husband and me in a way that is otherworldly. We have a little motto inspired by Avatar: “Charlesworths stick together.” I know this will not be the last time in our lives we will need to call on this motto.
Life is full of highs and lows. Right now, we are in a beautiful season, and we are basking in it together
