Leanne shares their personal journey of her and her daughter, Freya-Jane. From a difficult pregnancy and premature birth to navigating complex medical needs, Leanne opens up about the challenges they've faced and the unexpected comfort they found at Charlton Farm.
In her own words, she reflects on what it means to simply be “mum” while the care team takes over, creating a safe and joyful space for both her and Freya-Jane.
I’m Leanne, and my daughter is Freya-Jane.
She is 2 years old, and she is the light of my life.
Freya-Jane’s dad and I had been trying for Freya-Jane for two and a half years.
We went to the 20-week scan, and they told us that she had an enlarged third ventricle on her brain.
My waters broke at 28 weeks, and they kept me in hospital for two weeks. She was then born via a semi-emergency c-section.
She was 1 pound 8, and she was measuring the size of a 25-weeker. I could fit her in my hand.
They can’t really tell us much in regards to how Freya is going to develop.
She has low muscle tone, she’s short-sighted, she has a bone-conducting hearing aid, but the biggest personality that you could ever imagine.
So we went to a consultation appointment, myself and Freya’s dad. At the end of the appointment, they said, “Freya meets the criteria to go to the Charlton Farm Children’s Hospice.”
Initially, I was like, “For what?”
Why do you think that is the way we are heading? Because she was doing amazingly in our eyes.
Once they had said it was for respite, I was very much like, “Yeah, let’s go for it.”
When we arrived, I had that instant... relax.
It was just like all the stress had melted away.
When we are here, there is none of that, “You’re in our environment now, and you must play by our rules.”
To have that freedom of the care team being able to deal with the medical stuff, and I can just be Mum, is everything.
When people ask me about Charlton Farm, I always tell them it is my little piece of heaven on earth.
Whenever we visit, they never exclude Freya from anything.
Even though she is nil by mouth, the team still bring her up to the dining area to give her her feeds, so that she is technically eating whilst everyone else is eating.
She is full of laughs whenever I go down, and she is always doing something different.
I can’t think of a time that we have been here where I have come down and she isn’t smiling.
The photos and the videos that the care team send me make me think she is more interactive with them than she is with me, and I just think that is so beautiful.
Every time I leave here, I do a countdown on when we are coming back.
Not just for me, but also for her.
After spending three months in hospital with Freya, and me being a frazzled mum, I had to ring and cancel our stay at the hospice.
Shortly after, they offered us a four-day stay so that I could decompress from hospital before going home to face everyday life as Freya’s full-time carer.
To have that break here, and the fact that they kept checking in on us throughout that time, meant everything.
We don’t feel that we’re just a family who comes to stay. We are treated like family.
You can’t put a price on that.
And that means everything.
