Srusht and Dlan's hemangioma story

My Strawberry Baby:

I live in Kurdistan, Iraq. Before this journey, I had never heard the word hemangioma. I had no idea what it was, what it looked like, or what it meant.

My third baby girl  (Dlan ) my beautiful, delicate daughter—was born a little early, but healthy and strong. We were so grateful. We did every check-up, every genetic test, every newborn screening, and everything came back normal. I held her in my arms, thankful, unaware of what was ahead.

Three weeks later, I noticed a small purple blister on her lip. At first, I checked with her pediatrician. He told me it was nothing to worry about, that it would fade with time. So I waited.

When guests came to meet her, some of the older women whispered, “It’s from breastfeeding too strongly. That’s why her lip looks like that.” It didn’t feel right to me. I knew I needed to understand it better.

I began showing it to more doctors—pediatricians, skin specialists, even cosmetic doctors. The answers were the same: “It’s fine.” “It’ll go away.” “It’s normal.”

But by the time she turned two months old, it changed. That small blister turned into a bright red spot—like a drop of blood sitting on her lip. It was so noticeable. People started asking questions, and I had no answers.

One quiet night, I was breastfeeding her and couldn’t sleep. I picked up my phone and began searching, typing symptoms into Google. And then… the first word that appeared was tumor.

I don’t remember what happened next. I only remember the tears—so many tears—that made it hard to breathe. My chest tightened. My heart was so loud I could hear it in my ears. Fear wrapped around me like a storm. My mind raced through every possibility, every way I could protect her, save her, fix this.

The next morning, I sent messages to every doctor I knew—from dentists to gynecologists. I sent photos, test results—anything I could. Some said it was still nothing to worry about. But a few mentioned the word hemangioma and gave me the name of a specialist.

We went to a well-known doctor in Sulaymaniyah. He diagnosed it as hemangioma and prescribed propranolol—a heart medication used for adults. Giving such a strong medicine to a baby felt terrifying. I was scared. I didn’t understand how this could be the treatment.

So I searched further. I consulted three doctors in Turkey, two in Jordan, and four in Iran. All of them—every single one—confirmed the same treatment plan. So we started propranolol when she turned six months old.

Now, she is 13 months. And alhamdulillah, the hemangioma is much smaller. It’s no longer raised, just a soft red mark now. But the medicine hasn’t been easy. She cries at night, talks in her sleep, loses her appetite. The side effects are real, and I see them in her.

But most importantly—it wasn’t the nightmare I imagined on that sleepless nights.

It’s something treatable. And inshallah, it will fade completely in the next couple of years. She still has nine months of medicine to go, but I already see the results.

I share this story because in our region, many mothers still don’t know what hemangioma is. We’re not aware, and so when it shows up, we panic—just like I did. But you are not alone. We are many. Many of us learned the hard way, when it became part of our life.

Today, I don’t fear that red mark. I love it. It’s a part of her. It makes her even more unique. She is my cherry baby, my strawberry baby. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Thanks to this page and to all the awareness groups worldwide who share real stories and support. Because of you, I learned, I understood, and I felt seen.

Srusht Shaswar

Dlan’s mother 

IG: @srusht.shaswary