When Ally and Jacob welcomed their baby girl into the world, everything felt complete. Mackenzie was their first child — longed for, dreamed of, and loved even before she took her first breath.
“Ever since we’ve known each other, we wanted to have kids,” Ally recalls with a smile. “By the end of the pregnancy, we just couldn’t wait for her to be here. We were so excited.”
As a midwife, Ally knew the rhythms of childbirth, the small uncertainties that come with new life. Her pregnancy was smooth, and the birth went perfectly. But in the days that followed, small worries began to creep in.
Mackenzie was jaundiced and lethargic, and breastfeeding was a struggle. “We had to stay an extra night in hospital and go back twice that first week,” Ally says. “It was a challenge right from the beginning.”
Still, they chalked it up to newborn adjustments. They were new parents, and despite the exhaustion, their hearts were full.
Then, they began to notice something they couldn’t ignore.
The Signs They Couldn’t Explain
At first, it was subtle — Mackenzie’s belly seemed a bit bigger than it should be. “She was a small baby, but her tummy was huge,” Ally recalls. “We thought maybe it was gas.”
But as days passed, her stomach grew more distended, the skin veiny and purplish. “It was scary looking,” Jacob says quietly. “It almost looked bruised.”
They took her to a community nurse, who suggested they might be overfeeding her. But Ally’s instincts said otherwise. “She’d put on 600 grams in five days,” she says. “That’s way too much for a newborn.”
A few days later, Ally texted her GP a photo of Mackenzie’s swollen belly. “The doctor said she was sure everything was fine, but that the Children’s Hospital could check her just to be safe.”
It was advice that would change everything.
“Tumour” and “Oncology” — Two Words No Parent Should Hear
At the Children’s Hospital, Mackenzie was rushed through Emergency. Doctors first suspected a bowel blockage, but X-rays ruled that out. Then came the ultrasound.
Moments later, a nurse led Ally and Jacob into a small room and closed the door.
“We just looked at each other — we knew it wasn’t good,” Ally says. “And then I heard the words ‘tumour’ and ‘oncology.’ You never think you’ll hear those words about your own baby.”
Doctors explained that they had found tumours and were calling the oncology team. “It was probably only half an hour,” Ally says softly. “But when your world has just been turned upside down, half an hour feels like an eternity.”
That night, Mackenzie was admitted to the oncology ward. “We had nothing with us,” Ally remembers. “We thought we’d be home by dinner — instead, we stayed two weeks.”
A Heartbreaking Diagnosis
Two days later, the results confirmed their worst fear: Stage 4S neuroblastoma — a rare cancer that develops in the adrenal glands and can spread to the liver and bone marrow.
“The doctors told us to look up ‘neuroblastoma in the neonate,’” Ally says. “Because if you’re under six months, the survival rate is completely different. They told us Mackenzie’s prognosis was good — about 97%.”
Still, the word “cancer” hung heavy. Telling their parents was one of the hardest things they’d ever done. “I’ll always remember that call,” Ally says, her voice breaking. “How do you tell your parents their first grandchild has cancer?”
The Fight Begins
With her tiny stomach growing daily, Mackenzie needed immediate chemotherapy. A central line was inserted. A catheter followed. “She had cords coming from everywhere,” Ally recalls. “Even holding her was difficult.”
Feeding had to be done by bottle with expressed breastmilk to carefully track fluid intake. “It broke my heart,” Ally admits. “I wanted that closeness of breastfeeding — but we just had to focus on keeping her safe.”
Through the fear and exhaustion, Ally and Jacob stood united. “We coped by working as a team,” Ally says. “We stayed positive, one step at a time.”
The Power of ZERO
Their oncologist suggested enrolling Mackenzie in the Zero Childhood Cancer Program (ZERO) — a research initiative that uses genomic testing to tailor treatment for each child.
“We didn’t even hesitate,” says Ally. “We wanted to know everything — especially if it could be genetic.”
The ZERO results brought relief: Mackenzie didn’t carry any high-risk genetic mutations, and her cancer wasn’t inherited. “We were super glad we did that,” Ally says. “It gave us peace of mind.”
Glimmers of Hope
After the first round of chemotherapy, there was little change. “That was really hard,” Ally admits. “We just couldn’t believe she had to go through it all again.”
But after two more rounds, they finally received good news — the tumour had shrunk by 50%. No more chemotherapy was needed. “Her liver and bone marrow were clear,” Ally says, smiling. “The main tumour’s still there, but it’s dormant. They said it could take years to disappear completely.”
A Bell, A New Beginning
In November 2024 — almost one year after diagnosis, and just a week before Mackenzie’s first birthday — the family gathered for a moment they had dreamed of: the end-of-treatment bell ceremony.
“It was so emotional,” Ally says. “You never think you’ll get to that point. Seeing her smile, hearing that bell — it was everything.”
Today, Mackenzie returns to the hospital every three months for scans and checkups. At home, she’s a whirlwind of laughter and curiosity. “She’s making up for lost time,” Ally laughs. “She’s so cheeky and full of energy. We’re just so thankful.”
A Family Forever Changed
Looking back, Ally admits there’s sadness too — grief for the early days they lost. “We missed that newborn bubble,” she says quietly. “Two weeks into parenthood, we were living in a hospital.”
But with that loss came resilience — a deeper bond that nothing can shake. “Now, we’ve gone through the hardest thing parents can face,” she says. “We know we can get through anything.”
As Mackenzie toddles through the house — giggling, fearless, her big blue eyes full of life — her parents watch with awe.
“She’s our miracle,” Jacob says simply.
And every night, when Ally tucks her daughter into bed, she whispers the same words she said the day the fear began:
“We’re here, baby girl. We’re not going anywhere.”
