When Úna entered the world on a quiet Scottish morning on October 7, 2021, she weighed just 6 pounds 8 ounces—tiny, perfect, and adored. Her parents held her close, kissed her forehead, and whispered promises that all new parents make. Home was far away, but distance didn’t matter. They had their daughter, and life felt complete.

But beneath the softness of her newborn skin, something dangerous was unfolding—something no one saw coming.

Early Days That Didn’t Feel Quite Right

The first weeks of her life should have been full of sleepy smiles and gentle cuddles. Instead, worry began creeping into her parents’ hearts.

Feeding became a daily struggle.
Her bottles were measured in milliliters—5, 10, maybe 12.
Much too little. Much too slow.

Every swallow became a battle. Her heart and lungs were working far harder than they should. Blood meant for her lungs was mixing with blood meant for the rest of her body, placing unimaginable strain on her fragile system.

But no one knew.
Not yet.

Her parents went to the GP again and again. Each visit ended with another explanation that didn’t feel right:

“It’s colic.”
“It’s reflux.”
“Maybe oral thrush.”

But a mother knows. And Erin knew something was wrong.

The Day Everything Changed

On December 9, when Úna was just nine weeks old, a new doctor listened carefully—really listened—to her parents’ concerns.

Within minutes, he heard it: a loud rush of blood through her tiny heart.

A 9mm ventricular septal defect.
A large VSD.
A literal hole between the heart’s ventricles.

The diagnosis hit like a storm:

Heart failure.
Emergency transfer.
Open-heart surgery.

No parent is ever ready to hear those words.

Her father would never forget the nurse who looked at her and quietly said,
“She is a very poorly baby.”

A Lifeline in the Form of a PA Band

Úna arrived at the children’s cardiac ward unable to hold herself upright. She was fitted with an NG tube so she could receive the nutrients her body desperately needed. Every drop of fortified milk became fuel for the fight ahead.

On December 22, weighing just 7 pounds 8 ounces, she was taken into surgery.

Doctors placed a pulmonary artery (PA) band—a small but lifesaving ring that slowed the flow of blood to her lungs. It wasn’t a cure, but it gave her something priceless:

Time.
Time to breathe.
Time to grow.
Time to strengthen before the next stage of treatment.

Ten days in intensive care.
Five weeks in the hospital.
Every day she fought.
Every day she proved how badly she wanted to live.

Slow Healing, Quiet Triumphs

Over the next months, Úna began to transform.

A little more milk each day.
A few more grams gained each week.
Tiny victories—each one a miracle.

Four months later, her NG tube was finally removed. Her parents watched in awe as she began to thrive, her personality emerging in smiles and squeals.

But the VSD was still there, waiting to be closed when she was stronger.

The Second Surgery: A Miracle of Modern Medicine

At 19 months old, the time had come.

This time, surgeons used a minimally invasive keyhole procedure. Instead of opening her chest, they guided a small device through her vessels and placed it directly over the hole in her heart.

No major incision.
No long recovery.
No PICU stay.

Just hours later, the defect was fully sealed.

For the first time since her birth, her heart beat the way it was always meant to.

A Life That Almost Never Happened

Today, Úna is a thriving toddler celebrating her second birthday. She runs, dances, laughs, and loves with a heart stronger than anyone could have imagined.

Her scars are small.
Her spirit is enormous.

Each giggle.
Each step.
Each spoonful of food.
Everything she does is a reminder that she survived what should have ended her life.

Her story is not only a medical triumph—it is a testament to parental intuition and advocacy. Without that one doctor who finally listened, without the PA banding that gave her lungs time to rest, her story could have ended before it truly began.

Why Her Story Matters

Ventricular septal defects are among the most common congenital heart defects, but early signs can be subtle:

• Struggling to feed

• Fatigue during or after feeding

• Poor weight gain

• Rapid or labored breathing

Too often, these symptoms are dismissed or mistaken for mild infant issues. Úna’s journey underscores how critical early recognition can be.

Organizations like Tiny Tickers and Ronald McDonald House played a vital role in supporting her family through the darkest days. Their impact shows how community, compassion, and knowledge save lives every single day.

A Message for Every Parent

For Erin and Malachey, the psychological toll was immense—weeks of fear, sleepless nights, endless appointments, and the agony of feeling unheard. But their persistence kept their daughter alive.

Their message is simple but powerful:

Trust your instincts.
Fight for your child.
Don’t accept “nothing is wrong” when your heart tells you otherwise.

A Story of Courage, Hope, and a Tiny Heart That Refused to Quit

Today, Úna’s life looks beautifully ordinary:

Playdates.
Trips to the park.
Little shoes scattered by the door.
Laughter echoing through her home.

But behind every ordinary moment is an extraordinary story of survival.

Her scars—barely visible—mark a fight she never chose but bravely won. Her heartbeat, once fragile, is now the steady rhythm of a life filled with joy, promise, and second chances.

Úna is not just a survivor.
She is proof—living, breathing proof—that even the smallest hearts can carry unimaginable strength.

And her story will continue to inspire families, doctors, and communities for years to come.