"We’re Not Going Anywhere": Mackenzie’s Brave Fight Through Her First Year

When Ally and Jacob welcomed their baby girl into the world, everything felt complete. Mackenzie was their first child — long hoped for, long dreamed of, and deeply loved, even before she took her very first breath.

“Ever since we met, we always talked about having kids,” Ally recalls with a warm smile. “By the end of my pregnancy, we were counting down the days. We were so ready to meet her. The excitement was overwhelming.”

As a midwife, Ally was familiar with the highs and lows that can accompany pregnancy and childbirth. Her own pregnancy had been smooth, and the birth went exactly as planned. Everything seemed perfect. But in the days that followed, small concerns began to creep in — quiet at first, then louder.

Mackenzie appeared unusually tired and jaundiced, and breastfeeding proved to be an uphill battle. “We had to stay an extra night in hospital, then we were back twice more that first week,” Ally says. “From the very beginning, it was challenging. Nothing was going the way we imagined.”

Still, they chalked it up to the ups and downs of being new parents. Despite the worry and the exhaustion, their hearts were full. They were finally a family.

But soon, something changed — something they couldn’t explain away.

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The Signs They Couldn’t Ignore

At first, it was subtle. Mackenzie’s belly looked a little larger than it should for such a tiny newborn. “She was small everywhere else — arms, legs, face — but her tummy just didn’t look right,” Ally remembers. “We thought maybe it was just gas or bloating. Something normal.”

But her belly kept growing. The swelling became more pronounced. The skin across her abdomen turned purplish, almost veiny — alarming and unnatural. “It was scary-looking,” Jacob says quietly. “Her tummy almost looked bruised. We didn’t want to panic, but deep down, we knew something wasn’t right.”

They took her to a community nurse, who suggested the swelling could be from overfeeding. But Ally’s instincts — sharpened by her medical experience and maternal intuition — told her otherwise. “She had gained 600 grams in five days,” she says. “That’s an enormous jump for a newborn. Too much, too fast.”

Trusting her gut, Ally sent a photo of Mackenzie’s swollen belly to her GP. The response was cautious: the doctor reassured her it was likely nothing serious, but advised a visit to the Children’s Hospital — just to be safe.

That advice would change their lives.

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Two Words No Parent Ever Expects to Hear

At the Children’s Hospital, Mackenzie was rushed through the emergency department. Doctors initially suspected a bowel obstruction, a relatively common issue in infants. But X-rays quickly ruled that out. An ultrasound followed.

Then came the moment Ally and Jacob will never forget.

A nurse guided them into a small private room and gently closed the door behind them.

“We looked at each other and just knew it wasn’t good news,” Ally says. “And then came the words no parent is prepared to hear: ‘tumour’ and ‘oncology.’”

It felt like the floor dropped out from under them. Doctors explained that they had discovered abnormal masses and were bringing in the oncology team for further evaluation.

“Everything moved so fast,” Ally says. “But when you’re in that moment — when your entire world has just been turned upside down — even 30 minutes feels like forever.”

That night, Mackenzie was admitted to the oncology ward. “We thought we’d be home by dinner,” Ally says. “Instead, we stayed for two weeks. We had no clothes, no toothbrushes — nothing but fear.”

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A Devastating Diagnosis

Two days later, the diagnosis was confirmed: Stage 4S neuroblastoma, a rare form of cancer that starts in the adrenal glands and can spread to organs like the liver and bone marrow.

“The doctors told us to specifically look up ‘neuroblastoma in the neonate,’” Ally recalls. “Because if diagnosed under six months of age, the survival rate is much higher — around 97%. That was a huge relief in some ways.”

But no number could soften the blow. The word “cancer” alone was crushing. Telling their families was one of the hardest things they had ever done.

“I’ll never forget that phone call,” Ally says, her voice breaking. “How do you tell your parents their first grandchild has cancer? It’s not something you ever imagine having to say.”

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The Fight Begins

With her tiny belly still expanding, Mackenzie needed urgent chemotherapy. A central line was inserted into her chest. A catheter was placed. Monitors and cords surrounded her.

“She had tubes coming out everywhere,” Ally says. “Even holding her felt like a medical procedure.”

Breastfeeding — something Ally had dreamed of — had to stop. Mackenzie’s feeds were now measured, bottle-fed breastmilk, carefully monitored for volume and intake.

“It was heartbreaking,” Ally says. “I wanted that closeness, that bond. But we had to put her health and survival above everything.”

Amid the chaos and fear, Ally and Jacob leaned on each other. “We just took it one day at a time,” Jacob says. “We worked as a team, and that’s how we got through it.”

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The Hope in Genomics: Joining the ZERO Program

One of Mackenzie’s doctors suggested enrolling in the Zero Childhood Cancer Program (ZERO) — an innovative research initiative that uses genomic testing to tailor treatments to a child’s specific cancer type.

“We didn’t hesitate for a second,” Ally says. “We wanted every piece of information we could get. And if it could tell us whether this was genetic, even better.”

The results brought comfort. Mackenzie did not carry any high-risk genetic mutations, and her cancer was not inherited. “That gave us peace of mind,” Ally says. “It answered some of our biggest fears.”

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Steps Toward Healing

After the first round of chemotherapy, progress was slow. “That was really discouraging,” Ally admits. “You keep hoping for a miracle turnaround, and it didn’t come right away.”

But after two more rounds, their persistence was rewarded: the tumour had shrunk by 50%. Better still, her liver and bone marrow were now clear. No further chemo was required.

“The main tumour is still there,” Ally explains. “But it’s dormant. They told us it might take years to disappear completely. And that’s okay. She’s okay.”

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Ringing the Bell: A Moment of Joy

In November 2024, nearly one year after that terrifying diagnosis, and just a week before Mackenzie’s first birthday, the family gathered for the day they’d dreamed of: Mackenzie’s end-of-treatment bell ceremony.

“It was so emotional,” Ally says. “It felt like we’d climbed a mountain. Watching her smile, hearing that bell ring — it meant everything.”

Today, Mackenzie returns to the hospital every three months for checkups. At home, she’s a bundle of joy — crawling, climbing, laughing, exploring every corner with wild curiosity.

“She’s full of life,” Jacob says. “She’s cheeky, fearless, and she keeps us on our toes. She’s making up for lost time.”

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A Family Forever Changed

Looking back, Ally carries both gratitude and grief. Gratitude for her daughter’s survival. Grief for the early moments that were taken.

“We lost those sweet newborn weeks,” she says quietly. “While other families were adjusting to parenthood at home, we were learning how to navigate a cancer diagnosis. Our first memories as parents were in a hospital ward.”

But they also gained something profound — a strength and resilience few ever experience.

“We’ve been through the hardest thing you can imagine,” Ally says. “And we came out stronger. We know now — whatever happens in life — we can face it together.”

As Mackenzie toddles across the room, full of energy and light, her parents watch in awe. She’s no longer the fragile newborn in the hospital crib — she’s a thriving, fearless little girl.

“She’s our miracle,” Jacob says simply.

And every night, when Ally tucks her daughter in, she whispers the same promise she made on the darkest day of their lives:

“We’re here, baby girl. We’re not going anywhere.”