I asked her sister if she had seen Bennemie, and when she said no, I knew my worst nightmare had just started. A mere 13 feet from where I had been sitting, Bennemie lay, face-down in the indoor water feature. I jumped into the pond and pulled Bennemie out, but my baby was lifeless. Her father, Ben immediately started CPR, which he continued as we rushed to the nearest hospital. It was only when the paramedics pulled him away, that Ben stopped his attempts to revive our precious baby. Bennemie had no pulse, heartbeat or pupil-reaction. She was effectively dead. For 20 minutes the team worked non-stop on her little body, finally getting some signs of life. She was stabilized and placed on a ventilator. We were warned not to expect a miracle – Bennemie would be deaf, blind and severely brain damaged. We asked for a second opinion and a top pediatric neurosurgeon was called in. He reiterated the other doctor’s opinion. He also added that Bennemie will never be able to swallow food or liquids and that she will be clustered to a bed until she eventually dies of pneumonia. He suggested we concentrate on our other 3 daughters and put Bennemie in a home as not to disrupt the rest of the family. I absolutely refused to believe that my happy, laughing redhead would never be the same again. So, we started on this very long, mostly lonely, road of faith in our Almighty God.

In August 2005, a gastrostomy feeding tube was implanted in Bennemie’s tummy. Her sight and hearing were also tested via brain waves, which both proved that she could see and hear 100%, although we do not know what her brain interprets. God was working in a fast way!!! Before she was released from the hospital, after being in ICU for 9 weeks, Ben and I was pressured to decide whether to put her in a home or give her round-the-clock care at home. There was absolutely no choice in the matter according to me. We took her home with us and with the power of our love and determination, a lot of faith and a brilliant team of therapists, each day brings Bennemie a step closer to the child she once was. We praised God when we were able to take out the gastrostomy feeding tube at the end of August 2006. She now eats and drinks as well as any other 6 year old – although with assistance.

When she first came home, her little body was spastic, and her eyes glazed. Now, 5 years later, she is making remarkable progress. Like a newborn, she slowly had to relearn everything she lost. Her speech is still way behind her age. She is more or less on the average of a 15-18 month old baby. I enrolled Bennemie at a playgroup 2 times a week. She enjoys the interaction with the other children tremendously. She has a very busy schedule every week, going to Physio, Occupational, Speech, Swimming and Horse therapy.

We had splints made for Bennemie in December 2005 which helps in keeping her feet flat to enable her to start walking again. She also sleeps with hand splints to force her hands to open up when reaching out for something.

Our Medical Aid told us that we can pay for Bennemie’s therapy and aids out of our day-to-day funds, but in doing so we will have no funds left after paying the therapists for 2 months, leaving the family without medical funds for the rest of the year. This means that we have to generate at least R115 000 per year to ensure that she receives the therapy and care she so desperately needs to heal. We are doing this by means of fundraising events and we also get occasional donations from angels. I am a single mother with a minimum monthly income. Bennemie has 3 older sisters, ages 13, 14 and 15. We are now entering the stage where Bennemie is starting to make use of different kinds of aids to get her walking again (like the splints) and is therefore in need of a specialized walking ring.

In May 2009 I took her for a MRI scan - the second one since her accident. The news was devastating. Bennemie’s brain is not growing in size. But although the outcome of the scan was like cold water to the face, I also know that God has bigger plans for her. Her progress is astonishing, taking into account her bleak medical expectations.