Living in LA felt like a dream come true, a fresh start for our little family. Every morning, we woke up to the sight of blue skies and palm trees, and I had to pinch myself daily to believe it was real. It was a world away from the dark days of Lennox Hill Hospital. We found a charming house high up in the hills of Laurel Canyon, reminiscent of an English country cottage. Our girls delighted in the endless sunshine, splashing in the swimming pool, and chasing the dogs around the garden. It was pure heaven.
We had emerged from the darkness into light, filled with a new optimism for the future. Finding an exceptional physical therapist and a highly respected neurologist brought us a sense of relief, and life began to fall into place. Reconnecting with friends from the UK who worked in the film industry finally gave us a sense of community we had missed. Debbie, our physical therapist, was a miracle worker focusing on building Molly’s balance and strength. She would spend hours getting Molly to stand against the wall, fostering her stability. I will never forget the moment Molly took her first steps at 2 1/2 years old, just as the neurologist had predicted. Once Molly learnt to walk, there was no stopping her as she danced and pranced around the garden, filling us with immeasurable joy and a renewed hope. Soon, both girls were enrolled in a fantastic Montessori school called Wagon Wheel, where they thrived in a world of art, singing, dancing, and putting on shows. It was a magical time for our family.
However, our journey took an unexpected turn when Scarlett graduated from Wagon Wheel and moved to the French Lycée with a few friends. We hoped Molly could join her, longing to keep the sisters together as they had grown so close. Despite explaining Molly’s learning challenges to the school, they accepted her enrollment without meeting her. In hindsight, this was a mistake. Shockingly, a few weeks later, we were called into the school and asked to remove Molly due to an incident where she had attacked a boy with a pencil. We discovered that Molly had reacted defensively, after being teased mercilessly by a classmate. It was clear the environment wasn’t right for Molly and we quickly removed both girls. Miraculously, the headmistress at Wagon Wheel, welcomed them back with open arms. While Scarlett needed a new school as she was older than all the other kids, we were grateful for the temporary refuge. Molly found a dear friend in Emma Roberts (Julia Roberts’ niece), and they became inseparable, enjoying sleepovers and playful activities and she soon forgot the trauma of what had happened.
Through all the ups and downs our family learned resilience, the importance of community and the incredible strength that comes with unconditional love and support. LA became more than just a place to live, it became the backdrop to our story of healing, growth and unbreakable bonds.
With the girls at school all day, our beloved helper, Julie, moved on to a new family, although we stayed in close contact and to this day we are in touch through Facebook.
My journey into the workforce began at 17, but even before that, I was doing paper rounds and Saturday jobs, driven by my love for earning my own money and being financially independent. When I moved to the US, I left behind a successful career in advertising. With the girls at school all day, I found myself growing restless and eager to find a new purpose.
We thought about returning to production, but my husband and I decided to invest in a new venture instead. Often, we would visit a charming English tea shop on La Cienega, and one day, while enjoying scones and jam we noticed the shop next door was for lease. Within weeks, and with the help of a top art director who worked in commercials with my husband, Willi, we brought Sarah Patterson & Co to life.
The space was magnificent, featuring top European designer clothes, with a play area in the back and a submarine boat doubling as a hairdressing station. The grand opening was a smashing success, attracting celebrities and garnering attention in magazines. I partnered with two great friends who helped source the clothes from London and Paris and to our surprise, we completely sold out of merchandise within a few months. Unfortunately, we couldn’t re-stock for months, so I decided the only option was to design my own clothes and establish production lines in LA. It was a crazy, utterly impulsive idea especially as I had no training in design, but somehow, I managed to source some great fabrics, find a pattern maker and factory that brought my vision to life, and we were up and running within a few months.
It was a tremendous amount of work, and I found myself driving downtown daily. Nothing would deter my enthusiasm for this new venture not even after being attacked by a group of kids who slashed my bag off my shoulder and threw me against the car as I was lifting the clothing out of the truck.
The girls absolutely loved visiting the shop, eagerly modelling the clothes for magazines and fashion shows. Dana, a sweet and versatile member of our team, doubled up as both the hairstylist and a model. Her presence added a special charm as I created matching adult and kid’s dresses. It was fun times especially when customers like Arnold Schwarzenegger would come into the shop to buy clothes for his kids. He would park his hummer outside the shop, ring the bell, and enter our safe space where he would spend hours chatting with us. However, one day we asked him to stay until my stepson arrived from the airport, we explained he was a huge fan of The Terminator, but he politely laughed and left and never came back. For a while various celebs would come in on a daily basis, and I remember those days as happy and carefree even though it was quite stressful running a shop and designing my own line of clothes.
We had found new schools for the girls and now they were split up I suddenly found myself spending a lot more time driving them back and forth as everything was so spread out in LA. Our life seemed to be constantly changing, much like being on a roller coaster ride. One minute everything was great, and then events transpired, and we had to navigate troubled waters again. A few years after opening the shop, the LA riots happened on our doorstep and forced us to close the shop as Hollywood was a ghost-town and overnight our beautiful shop was abandoned. We had to do something radical to survive so we decided to relocate to Montana Avenue, which was close to Santa Monica. We chose it as it seemed a safe family area with the type of clientele that would be interested in our designs. However, it was a few months later when the Northridge earthquake dealt another blow to our business. Half the street collapsed and with the threat of aftershocks and the big one looming business slowed dramatically. I was struggling with the long commute, as I hated being so far away from the girls who went to different schools now, and took part in daily earthquake drills. I kept imagining if there was another earthquake how I would get to the kids. I was also increasingly nervous going downtown as it felt a frightening place after the past few years, and I had a fear of being stuck in one of the factory elevators if another earthquake happened. We tried to stay optimistic and keep the shop afloat, but the Nicole Simpson murder and subsequent OJ Simpson trial, which unfolded nearby, had a huge impact on local customers. Glued to their TV’s, they became more focused on the unfolding drama than on shopping, exacerbating our struggles and leading to the inevitable closure of the shop. Despite this, Willi had poured a significant amount of money into the business, and rather than shutting it down entirely, I continued designing clothes. Orders continued to pour in from shops across the US giving us a glimmer of hope amongst the turmoil.
Molly was a delightful, funny and beautiful little girl, who charmed everyone she met. She was so confident and outgoing and would go up to complete strangers in shops and restaurants and start conversations. Her infectious smile, and adorable brightly colored glasses always attracted attention. At her new school we were asked to meet with her class and explain her uniqueness, and unlike the French lycée they accepted her with open arms. Since moving to Los Angeles, Molly had thrived, and for a while we almost forgot she had medical issues as the visits to the doctor’s office dwindled to just a few check-ups a year. Though there was the occasional drama, it was nothing like our experience during her first year.
One night, I was woken in the middle of the night by Gus, my stepson, who had recently moved in with us. He had found Molly wondering around at 2am with a gash on her face and blood dripping onto the floor. She had somehow climbed out of her crib and fallen onto a plastic picture frame, causing a nasty cut. I immediately called our doctor who recommended we wait an hour and then contact a plastic surgeon he trusted. Shortly afterwards, Molly was getting strapped into a strait jacket to ensure precise stitches. Thankfully, she healed perfectly, with no scars to remind her of the incident.
When life is on the upswing, it’s easy to forget about the shadows that once lingered. For years Willi had been enjoying a period of remarkable success, with hardly a problem in sight. He was riding high with a nomination from the Directors Guild of America for Best Director in the commercial category. A testament to his talent and hard work. We had just purchased a stunning Craftsman’s house in Hollywood, the kind of place that felt like a dream come true. But as is often the case, the story took an unexpected turn. Nothing lasts for forever, and the very dream we were living began to unravel.
When Molly was just 5 years old, our world was shaken once more during a familyholiday in Anguilla, in the Caribbean. One evening at dinner she began screaming, clutching her head and vomiting violently. Instinctively we knew this was a shunt issue requiring immediate medical attention and the Island had no facilities to handle such emergencies. Despite having travel insurance, we were advised that a commercial flight to Miami would be faster than a private plane. So Scarlett, Molly and I set out ahead, with Willi, Gus and Ed following later.
With no direct flights available, we had to change planes in San Juan. The journey was A whirlwind made even more stressful by the holiday season rush. When we arrived at San Juan airport, the crowds were overwhelming. I was in full survival mode, holding Molly, who had gone limp, while Scarlett clung to me for support. In a moment of desperation I stood in the middle of the concourse and screamed for help. Miraculously, an airline staff member came running to our rescue, guiding us through the chaos and ensuring we made our connecting flight on time. By the time we boarded the plane, Molly was nearly unconscious, writhing in pain.
Though the flight was short, it felt like an eternity. I was at a loss at what we would do when we arrived and in the days before mobile phones, communication was a lot more challenging. Fortunately, Willi had arranged for an ambulance to meet us upon landing in Miami which was a tremendous relief. Molly was given oxygen immediately, as her breathing had grown faint. As the ambulance raced to the hospital with alarms blaring and swerving through traffic, Scarlett caught up in excitement of the emergency, laughed, oblivious to the severity of the situation.
Once at the hospital, Molly was quickly attended to by the neurosurgeon. Despite my Concerns about his appearance - he seemed high or just severely exhausted- there was no time to second guess. Molly’s situation was critical, and she needed immediate surgery to save her life. It was a heart wrenching decision, but we placed our faith in the medical team and moved ahead with the operation. Thankfully, Molly survived, but complications emerged the following day, requiring additional surgery. With a new doctor on duty, Molly underwent another brain operation and was safely returned to the ward. Her recovery was remarkable and she was soon running around the ward and chatting with the Power Rangers who were visiting as a Christmas surprise for the children. Once Molly was stable, Willi and the boys joined us in Miami, and we flew back to LA as quickly as possible, profoundly relived to leave the tumultuous few weeks behind us.
After 3-4 years of relative stability, our experience in Miami served as a stark reminder never to take Molly’s health for granted. Unfortunately, the incident triggered seizures, which soon became a regular challenge, bringing a new set of difficulties to navigate. Experiencing a grand mal seizure for the first time was both dramatic and utterly terrifying. We felt powerless as we watched Molly go through these episodes. Seizures quickly became a part of her life. Sometimes she would get a warning sign, like an aura, but other times there was no forewarning at all. We would witness her losing consciousness, her muscles suddenly contracting and becoming rigid. It was horrifying to see her eyes would roll back and hear the frightening sounds as air was forced from her lungs. This initial phase typically lasted 20-30seconds, often culminating with her falling to the ground as her body stiffened. The subsequent phase involved rhythmic, jerking muscle contractions, which would last for several minutes and involve her arms, legs and head. At times, Molly would lose the control, of her bladder and bowels, and on one occasion, she even turned blue. We typically managed these episodes at home, but occasionally, when they persisted, we sought help at the hospital. Although medication offered some relief, it couldn’t entirely prevent them, leaving us unable to predict when they would strike. Each seizure was a reminder of the constant uncertainty we faced in managing her condition. I was relieved I no longer had the shop to distract me, as we were entering into anew phase with Molly, and it was crucial for me to be present and vigilant. After returning from Miami we scheduled an appointment with her neurosurgeon at Cedars-Sinai, who promptly admitted her for another shunt revision. Each time she was wheeled into the operating theatre, our hearts felt as though they were breaking into a million pieces. Despite our efforts to remain hopeful, a persistent worry lingered that something might go wrong. After hours of anxious waiting, the surgeon emerged, holding a jar with a large piece of metal he had discovered in Molly’s neck, something the Miami surgeon had inadvertently left behind.
Molly was an incredibly brave and resilient little girl, but after countless IV’s and surgeries, she began to develop a phobia of needles. It often took two or three nurses to hold her still just to find a vein. Following these surgeries and the seizures, we became concerned that additional brain damage may have occurred, as she seemed more reserved than before. At times it felt as though her spirit had been crushed, but she would always manage to bounce back. Throughout it all, we clung to the hope that our prayers and perseverance would help us navigate through the darkest days.
I had always dreamed of having a large family, so when I found out I was pregnant with a baby boy, I was overjoyed, especially after the miscarriage I had suffered the previous year. However, the pregnancy came with its own set of challenges, requiring bed rest for the final three months due to episodes of bleeding. Being confined to bed was incredibly frustrating and it forced me to put my clothing line on hold, ultimately leading to the closure of the business. Fortunately, we had an amazing au pair from Hungary, named Viki, who was adored by the children. She kept them entertained while I spend days listening to audio books.
My doctor was incredibly well-loved by all his patients, who all had a bit of a crush on him. We had a few late-night trips to the hospital due to heavy bleeding. Viki and the girls were by my side. Dr Crane was always there, making me feel safe and reassuring me that everything would be fine. With Willi often away filming in different locations, I was grateful I was in such good hands.
The baby was very active, and I loved feeling his tiny hands and feet pressing against my stomach. The girls were mesmerized by the movements and would sit beside me captivated. My doctor decided to induce me a few weeks before my due date, and I eagerly counted down the days until my little boy’s arrival.
When the day finally came, after hours of attempting a natural delivery, I was informed I would need a C -section as I had a low-lying placenta. A few hours later, our beautiful baby boy, Ossian (named after a mythical Irish poet) , was born at 6lb 13oz on Aug 23rd.
The labor room was filled with emotion, and as soon as he was delivered, I burst into tears. The mix of relief, morphine and the overwhelming joy at having a healthy baby was too much.
As soon as we walked through the door with Osh, the girls smothered him with kisses and love, and our family felt complete. Always incredibly active, and not great at resting I was eager to get back to my routine. Within days I was driving myself to doctors’ appointments and visiting friends, which may not have been the wisest decision, but I was determined to return to normalcy.
Meanwhile, I had been somewhat sheltered from the reality of Willi’s business troubles due to bed rest. The past few months had been tough for him – his production company had to close due a dramatic downturn in the commercial industry following the earthquake. The film Industry in Los Angeles had collapsed overnight, with many agencies and clients no longer wanting to film in the city, and insurance for productions had become almost impossible to obtain.
Willi had recently left a major production company to start his own business, and now he was deep in debt. Determined to pay all the crew and vendors he owed; our finances had swiftly deteriorated from a substantial income to serious financial troubles.
After finding out I was pregnant, we had sold our beautiful craftsman house In Hollywood (a decision we later regretted) and moved into a rental in the hills, which had more space for our growing family. A few weeks after Osh’s birth, we received a notice from the mortgage company stating our landlords were in serious default and the house would be repossessed
Suddenly, we faced tough decisions. After seven years and with heavy hearts, we realized we would need to return to the UK, where we had the support of family and friends. The move happened quickly, with Osh just a few months old, we packed up our belongings, held a massive yard sale, and, with our dogs, cats, and children in tow, boarded a plane back to London.
Despite, having only a few possessions, no winter clothes, and an uncertain future, we were filled with hope and optimism as we embarked on this new chapter of our lives.
Sarah another heartbreaking episode xx
So good mum