In a small corner of Northern Ireland, a three year old girl is gearing up for her second major organ transplant before she has even started school. The child, Etta Cartmill, and her younger brother both live with a rare genetic condition that has already reshaped every part of their family’s daily life. Her story is at once brutally specific and painfully familiar to anyone who has watched a child fight through long hospital stays and uncertain test results.
What makes Etta’s case stand out is not just the medical complexity, but the way her parents have had to learn a crash course in genetics, organ failure and transplant logistics while still trying to give their kids a normal childhood. Their reality is a mix of feeding tubes and cartoons, of waiting lists and birthday parties, of clinical language and very ordinary hopes.
The toddler at the center of it all
Etta Cartmill is three years old, chatty and, in her mother’s words, “thriving” when she feels well enough, yet her life has been defined by hospital corridors more than playgrounds. She lives in Northern Ireland and has already spent long stretches on children’s wards, where staff know her by name and where her parents have learned to read monitors as easily as other parents read storybooks. Earlier this year, reporting described how Etta had been much more comfortable since her first liver transplant, a procedure that eased symptoms that had left her exhausted and unwell for much of her short life, and that improvement is what makes the prospect of another major surgery feel both hopeful and daunting at the same time.
The family’s story first reached a wider audience when coverage from Newry highlighted a “thriving” three year old facing a second life changing transplant, with Etta’s parents explaining how their daughter had spent much of her young life in hospital beds instead of at home. That same reporting noted that her brother also lives with the same rare condition, which means the family’s medical challenges are doubled and every decision about Etta’s care is made in the shadow of what it might mean for him too. In that context, the description of her as “thriving” is less a casual compliment and more a hard won status, backed by months of treatment that have kept her stable enough to even be considered for another transplant, as detailed in coverage from Newry.
A rare diagnosis that hit twice
Behind the medical drama is a genetic twist that most parents never have to think about. Etta and her brother were both diagnosed with a rare inherited condition that quietly damages vital organs, only revealing itself when symptoms become too serious to ignore. For their parents, the diagnosis landed not once but twice, first with Etta and then again with her younger child, turning what might have been a single medical crisis into a long term family reality. The condition affects how their bodies manage key functions, including the liver and kidneys, and it has already forced doctors to consider transplant options for both children.
Accounts of the family’s journey explain that the same rare genetic issue has left Etta in need of a second transplant and her brother reliant on careful monitoring and medication to keep his own organs stable. One detailed report noted that her brother’s treatment includes specific medication to help control his electrolytes, a reminder that even when he is not in surgery, his health is never on autopilot. The fact that two siblings share this diagnosis has pushed their parents into conversations about genetics, inheritance and future planning that most families never face, as outlined in coverage that framed the story under a “NEED TO KNOW” banner and described how both children’s care is shaped by the same underlying mutation, including the brother’s need for medication to manage his electrolytes.
Life before and after the first transplant
Before surgeons operated on Etta’s liver, everyday life was shrinking around her. Her parents have described how she had no energy to play, how simple activities that should have been automatic for a toddler became exhausting tasks that left her wiped out. Mealtimes were a struggle, sleep was disrupted and the family’s schedule revolved around appointments, blood tests and the constant calculation of what she could handle on any given day. It is the kind of slow, grinding decline that can be hard to see from the outside, but for the people living it, every week brings a new compromise.
That is why the first transplant is often described by her mother as “life changing.” After the surgery, Etta’s comfort improved, her energy picked up and she could finally enjoy more of the ordinary things that three year olds are supposed to love, including watching Peppa Pig and playing when she felt up to it. One account of her recovery painted a picture of a little girl who, once she was stable, could sit up in bed, chat with staff and focus on cartoons instead of pain. Her mother, Dionne, has been quoted explaining that before the operation Etta had no energy to do anything, while after it she could finally engage with the world again, a shift captured in coverage that described how she went from barely moving to happily watching Peppa Pig in her hospital bed.
Why a second transplant is on the horizon
Even with that progress, doctors have warned that Etta’s journey is not over. The same rare genetic condition that damaged her liver in the first place continues to shape how her organs function, and specialists have concluded that she now needs another major transplant to protect her long term health. For a three year old, that means facing another round of pre operative assessments, another wait for a suitable organ and another stretch of intensive recovery that will test both her resilience and her family’s stamina. It is a reminder that in complex genetic cases, one successful surgery does not always close the book.
Reports on her case explain that Etta will receive a second transplant at a specialist center, with her parents preparing for another extended stay away from home while she recovers. The same coverage notes that her first liver transplant was described by Dionne as life changing, but also makes clear that the underlying condition means her medical team has to keep looking ahead to the next risk. In one detailed profile, the “NEED TO KNOW” section spelled out that Etta is preparing for her second major organ transplant and that her journey is still not over, language that underlines how this next operation is part of a longer arc rather than a sudden twist, as highlighted in reporting that set out why the three year old in Northern Ireland is facing a second transplant.
Growing up in hospital corridors
For Etta, hospitals are not scary, unfamiliar places, they are where she has grown up. Staff know her routines, she knows the layout of the wards and her parents have turned bedside tables into makeshift toy shelves more times than they can count. Earlier coverage noted that she has spent much of her young life in hospital, a phrase that sounds almost casual until you picture birthdays marked with paper banners taped to medical equipment and siblings visiting between school and bedtime. That kind of childhood shapes everything from how a child understands their own body to how they think about home.
Her parents have had to become part time nurses and full time advocates, learning to manage feeding tubes, medications and post operative care while still trying to keep some sense of normal family life. They have also watched their son navigate his own appointments and treatments, which means juggling two sets of medical needs with the same limited time and emotional bandwidth. One report on Etta’s story described how she has spent much of her life in hospital and how her brother’s treatment has included a kidney transplant from his grandmother Michelle, a detail that shows just how deeply the wider family has been pulled into this medical orbit, as set out in coverage noting that Etta has spent much of her young life in hospital and that her brother received a kidney donation from Michelle.
The brother’s parallel battle
While Etta prepares for another transplant, her brother is fighting his own version of the same condition. He has already undergone a kidney transplant, with their grandmother Michelle stepping in as the living donor, a decision that speaks volumes about how far relatives will go when a child’s life is on the line. That operation has given him a better chance at stable health, but like his sister, he is not simply “fixed” and sent home. His care involves regular monitoring, blood work and a careful balance of medications to keep his new kidney functioning properly.
Accounts of the family’s situation stress that the brother’s treatment includes medication to control his electrolytes, a detail that might sound technical but in practice means daily routines built around pill schedules and lab results. His transplant from Michelle is a reminder that organ donation is not an abstract concept for this family, it is literally written into their family tree. Coverage of the siblings’ story has described how the brother’s kidney transplant and ongoing medication are part of the same rare genetic condition that has pushed Etta toward a second major surgery, with one report noting that his electrolytes are managed through specific medication and that his kidney came from his grandmother Michelle.
How their parents are holding it together
In the middle of all this medical detail are two parents trying to keep their family afloat. Dionne has been the public voice for much of Etta’s story, explaining how her daughter went from having no energy to play to enjoying simple pleasures again after the first transplant. She has also been clear that the journey is emotionally draining, with every improvement shadowed by the knowledge that more procedures are coming. For parents in this position, hope and fear sit side by side, and planning for the future means thinking in terms of test results and surgical slots as much as school terms and holidays.
Reports that follow the family’s story describe Dionne as both fiercely protective and remarkably open about what they are facing, sharing details of Etta’s recovery and the impact on their son so that other families in similar situations feel less alone. One profile noted that she called the first transplant life changing but also acknowledged that the journey is still not over, a line that captures the mix of gratitude and exhaustion that comes with long term pediatric illness. That same coverage invited readers to stay up to date on the family’s progress, underscoring how invested people have become in Etta’s story and how her parents have turned their private ordeal into a kind of public education about rare genetic conditions, as reflected in a feature that urged readers to never miss a story and emphasized that Etta’s journey is still not over.
Community support and small wins
Around the Cartmill family, a wider circle of support has grown up, from relatives who step in with childcare and hospital visits to friends and strangers who follow updates and send messages. In Newry and beyond, people have rallied around the idea of a “thriving” three year old who just needs a fair shot at a healthier life. That community backing matters in practical ways, like helping with travel costs or childcare for the sibling who is not in hospital, but it also matters emotionally, reminding the parents that they are not carrying this alone.
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