Hello, I'm Anna's mum and I want to tell you about my beautiful daughter, Anna, who just celebrated her 14th birthday.

The day after we sang happy birthday and she blew out her candles, Anna had an Intracranial Pressure Monitor inserted into her brain. It broke my heart. Her medical team has diagnosed her with Papilledema and Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension (IIH), but despite all their expertise and care, no one can tell us why this is happening to our little girl.

Multiple specialist teams are caring for Anna, and while I'm grateful for every single one of them, they still don't understand why her brain is producing too much cerebrospinal fluid. The pressure inside her skull can become dangerously high, threatening her eyes and brain. I watch her vision blur, see her struggle through headaches that she rates as 13 out of 10—a number that haunts me as a parent.

The medications we've tried haven't helped. She gets dizzy, nauseous, and sometimes faints, even when she's just lying in bed trying to rest. She's endured three lumbar punctures in just 8 weeks. I hold her hand through each one, and it's been absolutely terrifying for both of us.

Anna has spent far too much of her young life in hospital rooms instead of in her own bedroom. The doctors monitor the pressure in her brain constantly, and when it spikes too high, she needs another lumbar puncture to bring relief. If it happens again, they'll need to insert a permanent shunt to drain the fluid from her brain to her abdomen. It's not a perfect solution, and I know it will be another mountain for her to climb—but it could save her vision and possibly her life. As a parent, that's all that matters.

This journey has been more than I ever imagined we'd have to face. On top of everything else, Anna lives with Level 3 Autism (requiring very substantial support), ADHD, and PTSD with dissociative features. But you need to understand—it wasn't always this severe.

When Anna was 7, she had a Level 1 Autism diagnosis. She was doing so well. Then came a whole term of severe bullying at school by another student, and my baby didn't know how to tell me. I wish every day that I had known, that I could have protected her. That experience changed everything.

After the bullying, Anna's brain and body essentially shut down as a protective response. Now, whenever she feels scared, overwhelmed, or confused—which happens so often—she freezes. It tears me apart watching her struggle to understand what's happening around her, or even within her own body. Everything becomes too much. She tells me she misses her friends. She misses playing outside. Those simple childhood joys feel like a distant memory.

Eating and drinking have also become a daily battle. Last year, Anna developed ARFID (a type of disordered eating), and in August, we made the difficult decision to have a PEG tube placed in her stomach to help keep her nourished. She's been hospitalized 16 times in the last year alone. Sixteen times I've packed a bag, and in an ambulance, gone to hopsital and watched my child suffer.

But there are moments of light that give us hope. The therapy dogs that visit Anna in hospital have become precious to us both. Watching her face light up when they arrive makes my heart swell. These incredible animals have helped her in ways I sometimes cannot, especially when she can't find words to express her pain or fear. They just know what she needs. Sometimes they lie across her legs or near her head, finding exactly the right spot. They bring pure joy and calm into her life every single time, and for that, I'm endlessly grateful.

Now, we're reaching out with hope in our hearts to raise funds for an Autism Assistance Dog for Anna.

I truly believe a dog like this could be life-changing for her. They could help her feel safer, calmer, and less frightened of a world that has been so overwhelming. They could help prevent dissociative episodes, stay with her if she faints, or provide deep pressure when everything feels like too much. She could rub their ears to self-soothe, or cuddle them when fear takes over. With this support,

I dare to dream that one day my daughter might feel brave enough to return to school and rebuild the friendships she's lost.

I believe with everything in me that an Assistance Dog could help Anna reclaim her childhood and build a life filled with possibilities instead of limitations. This wouldn't just be a pet—it would be a friend, a guardian, a constant source of support when I can't always be there. With a dog by her side, maybe Anna can work up the courage to go to the shops with me, or even return to school someday. She dreams of working with her hands, creating things, having a future.

Thank you for taking the time to read Anna's story—our story. It means more than you could know. These are Anna's words, her truth, and I helped her put them on paper because she deserves to be heard.

With hope and gratitude,

♥ Anna's Mum/Dad