- Ebony Mitchell, 34, from Illawarra, NSW, was determined to marry the love of her life, Jake
- When he began vomiting blood in 2023, it led to a shock diagnosis
- With the future uncertain, the pair said ‘I do’ in the ICU
Here Ebony shares her story in her own words
Scrolling through Facebook marketplace with my partner, Jake, then 24, we searched for things for our girl’s nursery.
It was April 2022 and recently having discovered I was pregnant with our first bub, we were excitedly preparing for her arrival.
Jake and I had first met at the pub where I worked as a gaming attendant in October 2021. I quickly fell for his gorgeous smile and charming personality.
We moved in together just a month later, and life seemed perfect.
Having been diagnosed at age 16 with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) – a hormonal disorder characterised by cysts on the ovaries – I always knew there was a chance I couldn’t have children.
‘I get to have you all to myself,’ Jake smiled.
So when we learned I was pregnant, it was a shock, but we felt blessed.
That December, our baby girl, Lilly, arrived and we couldn’t have been happier.
Around six months later, Jake began feeling unwell, with unusual stomach pains and vomiting.
We assumed he’d picked up a virus from work at a battery recycling plant. Visiting his GP, he was given antibiotics for a stomach bug and sent home.
A week later, his condition worsened and he struggled to keep any food or water down.
‘He was vomiting blood.’
Leaving our girl with Jake’s mum, Clare, I rushed him to Wollongong Hospital, where a series of tests revealed the sinister reason behind his illness.
‘Jake has a blood clot in his main portal vein – a vital blood vessel that carries blood around the body,’ his doctor said.
By now Jake was vomiting blood.
Placing Jake in an induced coma, doctors worked to control the internal bleeding, and gave him high dose blood thinners in an attempt to break down the clot. But it didn’t work.
‘Gather Jake’s friends and family to say goodbye,’ a doctor said gently.
”I’m not going anywhere,’ Jake vowed.’
Less than 24 hours later, Jake came to, but I felt my world crumbling. We listened in shock as the doctor explained blood was pooling in Jake’s stomach, as part of his intestine and liver had died. He’d need surgery to remove them, but it was incredibly risky.
‘There’s a 50-50 chance he won’t survive,’ the doctor warned.
‘I finally find my person, and he’s about to be ripped away from me,’ I cried, fearing the worst.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Jake vowed.
‘I want to be a Mitchell,’ I confided.
‘Let’s make it official then,’ Jake agreed, lacing his fingers through mine.
With Jake’s surgery three days away and him too fragile to leave hospital, we’d have to wed there.
We had no dress, no suit, and no-one to marry us.
Not wanting to leave Jake’s bedside, I reached out to my local community group on Facebook.
I’m getting married in the ICU, does anyone have a dress I can borrow? I typed.
Within minutes, dozens of generous people offered dresses, as well as hair, make-up and nail services, all for free. A baker messaged with the offer of making a wedding cake, and donated flowers for a bouquet.
I also reached out to a celebrant and was granted special circumstances to receive our marriage licence on the spot.
Sadly, the dresses so generously donated didn’t fit, but a local bridal boutique, Lilies and Lace, came to my rescue.
Stepping into my ivory sweetheart wedding gown on the morning of August 25, 2023, I felt so lucky.
Walking through the double swing doors, as my gown brushed the sterile floor of the ICU, I locked eyes with my dream man waiting at the makeshift altar in the ICU ward.
For our hospital wedding, Jake was sitting in a hospital chair wearing a T-shirt with a tuxedo printed on the front, that his ICU nurse Bernie found for him.
Lilly was dressed in a gorgeous little white dress to match mine.
‘I was grateful to be Mrs Mitchell.’
Another nurse, Joe, was also there to capture photos of our special hospital wedding.
Skipping straight to the vows, we sealed the deal with a kiss, and signed the marriage certificate in front of 15 of our closest family and friends.
It wasn’t the big day we’d dreamed of, but I was grateful to be Mrs Mitchell.
While we were celebrating with our loved ones in Jake’s room afterwards, he suddenly took a turn for the worst.
Scans showed his condition was worsening and his stomach was filling with fluid. Placed on high-flow oxygen and bed rest, his surgery was brought forward to the next morning.
During the 10-hour op, surgeons removed 50cm of Jake’s dead small intestine and a portion of liver, as well as 95 per cent of the clot.
He had 42 staples down the centre of his chest and abdomen.
Intubated, he couldn’t talk afterwards. Instead, he pointed to his eyes, his heart, then me.
‘I love you too,’ I smiled, tearfully.
After 10 weeks recovering in hospital, Jake was discharged.
While he was on bed rest at home, Lilly took her first steps, aged 10 months, and made it her mission to bring slippers and snacks to her daddy.
Two years on, his scars are fading, and watching as he runs around after Lilly, now two and a half, you’d never know Jake was once fighting for life.
He’ll remain on blood thinners forever, and need regular check-ups to monitor blood levels plus yearly scans to ensure the clot is reducing as it should be.
I’m so thankful he defied the odds and fought to stay with his girls.
