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We were called in and the scan started, it wasn’t long before we were told that the baby was lying awkwardly and it may be an idea to have a walk. We were both now worried, the wait was unbearable. When we were called in, everything was now different, the monitors were bigger and we were now with a team of consultants and a specialist midwife. Our world gradually fell apart, we couldn’t believe what they were telling us, our baby had no kidneys and the bladder wasn’t functioning, basically the baby wouldn’t survive. I felt as if I was floating and it wasn’t really happening, we waited for the BUT.... hoping there was going to be a possible solution, it never came. We were shell shocked, this sort of thing doesn’t happen, we were just an average couple who wanted a family.
We arrived home early evening, Pete bravely made phone calls, everyone was devastated. We couldn’t sleep, we went shopping at Asda at 3am in the morning just for something to do, we watched the daylight appear sitting in a car park by the waterfront. Our lives had suddenly been ripped apart. Over the next few days, there were times we just sat outside our house in the car, we just couldn’t face the four walls. All this time the baby was moving around inside me.
We went back to the hospital and the baby was given an injection to stop the heartbeat, I was given a tablet to reduce my hormone levels ready for labour on New Years Day 1999. New Years Eve we sat at home, listening to fireworks and parties going on and we just cried. New Years Day was awful, I was induced and gave birth to Carla Daisy that evening, she was beautiful, at 20 weeks she was very pink but still gorgeous. I remember her blonde eyebrows, tiny finger nails and button nose.
Every day after that seemed grey, friends and family were wonderful but nothing else mattered, some people crossed the street from us and some friendships were lost because they didn’t know what to say. I struggled every day and my husband seemed strong and rallied round even though he was hurting so much.
Carla was cremated January 19th, it was a quiet ceremony with just Pete & Me, it rained hard all day. What the hell was going on, we were attending our child’s funeral, this wasn’t normal life! About a month after Carla’s funeral, I fell pregnant, we were both really scared. A few months later, Pete became very low and suddenly all the grief from Carla’s death and the pregnancy came out, luckily I was able to support him in the way he had supported me.
The pregnancy had many problems, I developed pre-eclampsia, was induced early, gave birth to a baby boy we named Matthew. Once at home, I was shocked to find that after all we had been through with Carla, that I wasn’t enjoying being a parent. I was very run down, in fact we both were, I had post natal depression, I’m sure Pete did too. We all survived and Matthew is now three years old.
We now felt it was a good time to try for a brother or sister for Matthew, I fell pregnant very quickly. The weeks seemed to go fast, life was great, and then the unthinkable happened. Our 20 week scan showed that the ventricules on the baby’s brain were a couple of millimetres bigger than what it should be, this can be consistent with the baby being a boy, we didn’t know at this stage what the sex was and we didn’t want to know. The feeling and emotions all came flooding back, we just could not believe what we were hearing, I just wanted to run and run, not again, this couldn’t be happening.
We were taken to the room ‘next door‘, here we were again, there was so much to take in, the swelling meant that the baby could have down syndrome or a viral infection. We chose to have an amnio that day plus blood tests. We came home, I led on the bed and just cried, what the hell was going on. Our family and friends were just so shocked.
We were due to go on holiday for 2 weeks to the Isle of Wight with my parents. We decided to go for Matthew’s sake. Before we went, the first test results came back negative, so far so good. We kept our mobile by us on holiday. On the Monday, it was hot day, we were at the swimming pool, the phone rang, more test results, they were negative too. All that was left now was another scan which we arranged for the Wednesday. We had a glimmer of hope, all this time the baby was moving around inside me, I wanted to hate the baby so I tried to detach myself but of course I couldn’t. We kissed Matthew goodbye on Wednesday, he stayed with mum and dad. My sister met us off the hydrofoil and took us to the hospital. We just prayed it would be ok, unfortunately my consultant was on holiday so I was scanned by a heavily pregnant consultant. Our hopes were lifted because as she was scanning she was pointing out the baby’s kidneys, heartbeat, hands etc. it makes me angry now wondering why she did that because unfortunately the baby had had a brain haemorrhage, life became very very grey again. We went back to the Isle of Wight, it may sound strange but I’m glad we did, we needed time to take it all in and we couldn’t bear going back to our house. It was agreed that I would go to hospital the Monday after we came home. I didn’t need to be told what was going to happen, I knew everything. The injection to stop the heartbeat, the tablet for my hormones, what to expect on the day, this was one thing in life I didn’t want to be an expert on. I gave birth to a baby boy who we named James on 14 August 2002, he was gorgeous and at 23 weeks was a big baby.
In 3 1/2 years how things change, this time Pete was able to choose the outfit for our baby at the hospital, we came away with a box containing so many photos and personal items of James’, the care we got was wonderful.
This time I have reacted so different, I have so much anger in me, to happen once is a complete tragedy, no-one should have to go through it, but a second time, and something totally unrelated, yes I feel very bitter and I admit that I resent people who have normal lives. I want to punish people who don’t have a clue. I won’t discuss James with many people, I feel very protective over him, and if I’m honest, I feel embarrassed, you almost hear people’s brains ticking over, understandable I suppose, they assume Carla & James’ problems are related. I feel very inadequate and a failure. As I’m writing this, I still cannot believe that all this has happened. Why us? Why anyone? I feel as though I made it happen because I was enjoying my pregnancy and I shouldn‘t have out of respect for Carla so I was bought down to earth with a massive blow. Naively I felt that as I had lost one baby, no way on earth could something happen again, but as the specialist told us, with each baby you go back to the beginning and mother nature is unable to take past experiences into account.
We had James cremated, the service was so different, we wanted no mention of anything religious, the weather was also different, the sun shone all day.
We have had tests for possible genetic problems, the outcome is not totally conclusive, but the specialists don’t see a true connection between Carla and James although they cannot totally rule this out. It could all come down to me picking up an infection during the pregnancy!
In my cupboard at home, I now have two ‘memory boxes‘, I have two funeral service sheets, two of everything. When we visit the Memorial room at the hospital, we see our two entries, we shouldn’t have one but instead we sit and cry for two little babies. The only nice thought is that Carla is looking after James.
There were complications with my pregnancy, and I was in and out of different hospitals, for various scans and tests. I was 20 years old, alone and very scared.
At 20 weeks, I guess I got cocky, I had felt her moving around, and thought that nothing could take her away from me now....I was wrong.
I was staying with a good friend, (who was the only one who offered the great support that I needed) when it happened. I woke up on the morning of January 17th 2000, (23 and a half weeks pregnant) to find my waters had broke. It was 3 am, I was in premature labour, and I was very frightened. I was rushed to Southampton General in a daze, 16 hours later, there she was in my arms, my beautiful daughter.
Lucy was born sleeping at 7.04pm, January 17th 2000. She was my millenium baby.
The pregnancy continued and we were so proud every time we told someone we were having twins.
At 17 weeks I went to the loo and saw blood, panicked I called the doctors and was advised to come in. After a brief check I was referred to the hospital for a scan and was told that my placenta was laying low and they would keep me in for observation. That was the Wednesday; on the Saturday I was sent home and told to take it easy. That afternoon we were getting ready to go to friends, before we left I went to the loo and saw lots of red blood, I called Mark who phoned the hospital, they said not to panic and monitor it but as he was talking to them I felt something solid pass, hysterical I called for Mark who informed the nurse and he was told to bring me up straight away. I couldn't look down the toilet convinced I would see one of my babies and at this point was screaming and desperate to get to the hospital. We arrived at the hospital and I was scanned and there were two babies quite active wriggling around on the screen. Huge relief! They decided to keep me in and there I stayed for the next 3 weeks.
As I hit 20 weeks I was moved to maternity, the bleeding was still severe at worst I would lose a pint including large clots. The twins however grew and were never concerned. After the worst bleed, which meant a night in delivery and talk of termination to stop me bleeding, I went 8 days with out bleeding. I had my 20 week scan and all was well the placenta had cleared the os and things were more hopeful. Again short-lived.
On several trips to the loo I noticed I was losing a funny discharge I consulted a midwife who called a colleague to have a look. A consultant was bought in and I was examined and told that my waters were ruptured, they could see a head and I was going to deliver very soon. Both Mark and me were devastated, sobbing and wondering what we had done to deserve this we were rushed over to delivery and there we waited. I had pain relief as the contractions picked up and after a while dozed off. The next time we woke up it was 7.30 in the morning and I was still pregnant. A scan revealed the twins were still alive and moving but had very little liquor. I was put on antibiotics, taken back to maternity and the wait continued. The next few weeks were so long, I was to be transferred to Addenbrookes when I reached 24 weeks and this was the goal. I was scanned regularly and amazingly the twins kept growing and were doing well. The Friday before my move to Addenbrookes I felt very unwell, I was uncomfortable and knew something wasn't right. That evening I sent Mark home and tried to settle down to sleep but the pain was growing worse only easing when I was up and walking. I knew what was happening but didn't want to admit it so kept taking the painkillers and tried to sleep. Eventually it all got too much so I went down to the midwife's station and said I felt sore and swollen and could they check me over. After that it was all a huge rush, the lower twins cord had prolapsed and I was taken over to delivery. Mark was phoned and there we waited it was 4am.
At just after 8 on Saturday the 12th October Connor William Nelson was born, he was put on a respirator and there he waited for 45 minutes until his brother Ethan Joshua Nelson arrived with a wriggle. They tried to help Ethan breathe but his lungs were so stiff and going on previous instruction from me and Mark they wrapped them up and handed the boys to us where for a few precious moments we felt our boys move and held them as they fell asleep. After that I was prepped for theatre as my placenta was stuck and Mark was to go and make what should have been the proudest phone calls off his life.
We left the hospital on the Sunday afternoon, it was the longest and hardest walk of my life and for the weeks leading up to the funeral I was purely existing, ending up in different places given endless cups of tea and shown so much love and support from my family but none of it was real, I tried to block it out and convince myself that the flutterings I felt where my uterus was contracting back was in fact my boys moving and growing. I never thought I could feel so much pain and still survive.
The day of the funeral was pure hell. We had a fantastic turn out so many people from Marks work, family and Claire one of the only people who treated me normally, cried with me and without me and wasn't afraid to ask questions all there to support us. The chaplain said everything we wanted and more and it was only when we stood for the internment that I cried, from all accounts I managed to start everyone off. After the service myself and Mark went to the pub with Dave and Karen who had looked after mark for me when I was in hospital, we drank a toast to the boys and set about rebuilding our dreams and planning for the next pregnancy.
At the hospital 6 weeks later we were told that there was no problem with the boys and that although they couldn't be sure they thought the loss was due to the amount of blood I lost irritating the waters causing them to go early. We were pleased that there was no real reason why we couldn't try again and left feeling more optimistic.
Grace Nelson
February 2003, I had inkling I was pregnant again. I went out one evening after work, mark was out, to buy a test walked home feeling both scared and excited and not sure whether it was a good idea to take the test when I was on my own. I decided to go ahead and wasn't surprised when it read positive. I phoned Mark in tears and told him, he was so stunned he had to hang up and ring me back.
Here we go again!!! I bled again in the first few weeks and found this most distressing, my work colleagues got very used to my hysterical sobbing and disappearing part way through the day to go for one of many scans. The bleeding did eventually stop and the pregnancy progressed. The day before the 20-week scan we went to the beach with Morwenna, one of the intended godmothers, and her son and had a lovely day in the sun except for some niggling pain on and off. My bump was starting to show more and I was the happiest, most frightened and proudest pregnant person ever. The Monday of the scan arrived and off we went accompanied by Morwenna. It was one of the longest days of my life but eventually we were ushered in. All was looking good, the baby was nice and active, growing nicely and the placenta was clear of the os. The consultant decided to do a vaginal scan, as there had been some concern about the length of my cervix at 15 weeks. One look at his face told us all we needed to know. My cervix was dilating. Shock wasn't the word. I was admitted for a stitch the next day; I slept surprisingly well that night.
The next day I was prepped for theatre, I was terrified but also reassured that it was a fairly common operation and although there were risks there was also a good chance all would go well. When I woke up Mark broke the news to me, they couldn't put the stitch in as my cervix had dilated more over night, I went back to sleep hoping that it might all go away. It didn't and we were faced with the option of aborting our baby. Mark took an instant dislike to the consultant that had performed the procedure for suggesting this and decided to wait for our regular consultant to come and see us. He decided to give it one more try, my bed was tilted over night to encourage the waters to push back and I was nil by mouth ready for surgery the next morning. At 5 the next morning I woke up to a wet feeling on my back, I knew what it was and a trip to the loo confirmed that my waters had broken. I called the midwife who called Mark and whilst I waited I sat in bed eating toast and drinking tea and wondering what the hell I had done which was so bad that I was losing my 3rd baby. A scan confirmed the baby had lost all of its fluid and it was now a waiting game, as I didn't want the drugs to induce. We were joined on most days by Morwenna who made us laugh, put up with me throwing things at her and looked after Mark when he went home which wasn't often, he had a hospital bed in the room due to putting his back out and was very happy to spend his days with me watching Wimbledon!!
A week later on the 3rd July after a great deal of pain I gave birth to a tiny girl who we named Grace. Once again my placenta was stuck so off I went to theatre for a manual removal and after several days in hospital and a few pints of blood I was allowed home once again with empty arms. I couldn't go to Grace's funeral, Mark and Morwenna went, I stayed at home and cleaned the house from top to bottom I even cleaned the windows!!
6 weeks after Grace we were back at the hospital and this time I was told I had an incompetent cervix and that was most likely what caused the boys to come early too. We discussed the options and it was decided that I would be referred to Leeds to talk to Professor Walker about a cervical suture. Lots of positive percentages were quoted and once again we left the hospital feeling like we had another chance.
We saw the Professor in September, he was very encouraging and we discussed the best course of treatment for me. I was told that I was a good candidate for a suture and although they wouldn't know whether it would be a vaginal or an abdominal until I was scanned at 11 weeks in to my next pregnancy the odds were very much in our favour. We left feeling very hopeful; all that was needed now was for me to get pregnant.
Charlie Nelson
12th October 2003, the boy's first anniversary and we headed off to Mark's cousins for the weekend. I once again had an inkling I was pregnant but a test before we set off proved me wrong. When we got home I did another test and still nothing. I decided to phone my GP as I was feeling very sick and had all my usual signs but no positive test. He said that I was probably testing too early and told me to wait a week. That was the Wednesday. On the Sunday morning I took a 3rd test and it was positive. Third time lucky?!
On the 11th December Me, Mark and Morwenna were in Leeds. Morwenna was such a big part of it all now, she was there minutes after Grace was born and had been through so much with us that it wouldn't have been right if she wasn't there for this important step. The suture went in and all was well, I was sent home with instructions for my consultant and told to go about life as normal but just take it easy when it came to lifting etc. I was really looking forward to Christmas and the lead up to it went well.
Christmas Eve I started to get some mild discomfort but assumed it was due to the operation, when I started bleeding I became more concerned but tried to push it to the back of my mind. Christmas Day was just what I needed nice and relaxed and the bleeding seemed to have stopped I was a happy person. I was due back to work on the 30th December and the day before myself and Mark went sale shopping. On the way back we decided to stop of for something to eat and then go over and see Dave and Karen. When I went to the loo I was horrified to see I had lost a fair amount of blood. We decided it would be down to the operation and carried on with our plans to see our friends. We didn't stay long. I was losing quite a lot of blood now and was getting mild cramps. We came home and I phoned the midwife who advised me to go straight up the hospital. I had a scan and all was well with the baby but the placenta looked low, the stitch was fine but they decided to keep me in over night. The following day my consultant scanned me and he confirmed that I had a low-lying placenta again and I was to stay one more night just to be sure.
I was home for New Years and we had friends over. The bleeding picked up and I felt awful, all I could think was that I was going to lose this baby too and racked my brains for all the evil things I must have done to deserve this again. I went back up the hospital on the Friday as I was losing more blood but all seemed well with the stitch and baby. Over the next few weeks I was scanned regularly and although the placenta remained low the stitch and the baby were doing well. The bleeding continued but I wasn't too worried until it started to get thinner. I thought about contacting someone but thought I was being overly sensitive so carried on. I had a very bad weekend were I felt lousy, I was hot and cold with a pounding headache and couldn't get out of bed, I was due a scan on the Wednesday so didn't do anything. On the Wednesday we went for the scan and I explained about the thinner loss, the scanner was put on my belly and the news that the baby had lost all its fluid was delivered! I was to be put on antibiotics and sent home to wait to see if it would re pool, returning on the 28th January, my birthday, for another scan. I sat waiting for my tablets in tears, why me, was I really such a bad person? The rest of the week was horrendous, I was up and down with my emotions and although people were trying to be positive I knew what was to come.
Monday 26th January, I woke up to take my antibiotic and go to the loo, I looked down and saw what I thought was a clot, it wasn't it was the cord. I called Mark to check and he stumbled in still half asleep and peered down, he didn't need to say anything the look on his face was enough. It was 7.15, I called my parents, Marks and work to let them know what was happening and off we went to the hospital. I was told to head for maternity and was glad of this because I had been through so much with them already. On arrival I was told I was to go to gynea instead as I was only 18 weeks. We sat in the now very familiar assessment room and waited for the doctor, he looked and confirmed it was the cord. He explained that I would need the suture removed and wanted to look to see what was happening inside, he scanned me and very kindly pointed out the lack of heartbeat. My last impression of my baby was dead and hunched over, that was to be the beginning of a truly awful day.
I was taken back over to maternity were a lovely female doctor attempted to remove the suture with me just using gas and air, the irony of the whole thing was that I ended up having to have an aesthetic because the stitch had done it's job so well it wouldn't come out!!!! Before they knocked me out I asked if they could remove the baby at the same time, they said they would see what my cervix did once the suture was removed. My cervix stayed shut and I was taken back to the gynea ward where I was put in a side room and told if I felt the need to push at any point to do so and buzz the nurses to let them know! Mark went and rang Jo a good friend of ours, who luckily for us had the day off and she came over to sit with us, I will always be grateful to her for not taking her cat to the vets! The day was slow and painful, the cord had dropped lower and I couldn't even get up to go to the loo as it was too upsetting to see it. The nurses were given me tablets at regular intervals and I assumed they were to help the contractions along. At about 4.30 Jo left and still nothing, the pain was worse now and I had injections to try and ease it but they didn't work. Mark went and rang his mum to ask her to bring up some fresh clothes and toiletries; I was terrified every time he left the room. At 7.00 ish I asked to see a doctor and asked her if I could be taken to theatre as I was tired, hungry and in incredible pain. I was told I had to have the full course of tablets first and they were due soon and if nothing happened after them then we would talk more.
At about 7.40 the pain was really bad, the nurse was in taking my obs and I felt the urge to push, Mark asked if this was ok and she said no and left. We sat there for a few minutes stunned and then Mark went to ask the senior nurse who said it was fine. Mark walked back into the room and seconds after I felt this immense pain and the most oddest of feelings that I cannot begin to describe. We buzzed for the nurse and when she arrived said we thought the baby was coming. She peered up the sheets and said yes, no encouragement, no words of comfort, and no physical contact. With one push Charlie Nelson arrived. I was hysterical at this point and had hold of Mark using him to block my view, as I didn't want to see the baby and wanted him taken away as I didn't want to feel him. The nurse said she had to get help but didn't hurry and when the other nurse arrived she cut the cord, put my baby in a bedpan and walked out. I was very concerned about my placenta especially after the last two experiences and literally seconds after Charlie was born I felt the need to push again. We buzzed the nurses and thankfully it came out in one piece. They cleared everything up and left me and Mark alone, no offer of tea, food or sympathy. Mark went and got some sandwiches from the canteen and we settled down for a very uncomfortable night. There was no bed for mark but one of the auxiliary's helped him set up some chairs and gave him some pillows and blankets and made me a cup of tea. At some ungodly hour of the morning I woke up needing the toilet, we buzzed and the lovely auxiliary came in, she took one look at the bedding and said she would change it and then made me another cup of tea, she was the only one who showed any concern.
The next morning I was in the shower when the consultant came round, he said how sorry he was to Mark and said I could go and he would arrange an appointment in 6 weeks time. I have never been so glad to go home even though it was my 31st birthday the following day and also the day I was meant to have my scan.
I have found Charlie's birth the hardest of all to deal with. I am left with the image of him on the scan and the feeling that he must really hate me for wanting to get rid of him so quickly. It has been a really hard few months and my emotions have been very unpredictable. Mother's Day was pure hell and the thought that I may not get another chance breaks my heart. I still don't know what I have done in my life to have all my children taken from me, I know there are people out there worse of than me but sometimes the fact that I may never be able to make Mark a Daddy which he so deserves is too much to take.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has helped and supported both Mark and me throughout the past few years. Erin from Southampton Sands who I couldn't be without now, she has been through so much and yet gives so much and just hearing from her makes me feel better. To the midwives who took such good care of me, Mark and our beautiful babies and who treated us like the parents we so wanted to be, the most precious gift they could have given us. The girls at work who mopped up my tears, dealt with my tantrums, showed me support and guided me through the rough days they are all stars especially Bear who I wouldn't be able to function without on the worst days she really deserves a medal for putting up with my many rant and rave sessions!! To our families for being there when we needed them regardless of what was going on in their lives. And to all the other people that have touched our lives even if it was briefly, to each and every one - THANK YOU.
My biggest thanks though goes to Mark for being the most perfect husband in the world ever, without him I wouldn't have made it. I love him to the moon and back and for all of those who know him you will understand why, nuff said!!
I don't know what the future holds; we are off to see the consultant soon and will discuss any options with him but what ever happens as long as I have Mark I know I will be ok.
Katherine Anne Cole-Bailey
Finding out I was pregnant with you, Katherine, was the second best moment of my life. I have to admit the first best moment was seeing your brother, Jack, for the first time; that was truly amazing. To love someone the moment you set eyes on them took my breath away.
But you were the most wanted baby. When I was pregnant with Jack I had no idea what it meant to be a Mummy and although I wanted him, I was very scared. Having him, becoming a Mummy, has been the most joyful experience I could have imagined. So, wanting to experience that joy again was one of my reasons for wanting another baby. I wanted to fall in-love like that again. So, knowing I was expecting you fulfilled that dream.
The next seven months weren't much fun. I didn't enjoy the pregnancy so much. I guess I wanted all the "first time" feelings and experiences again and of course, they didn't happen. But, when I started to feel you moving around inside of me and I could imagine what you were doing and how you would look, that's when I gave thanks that, in having you, my life would be truly complete.
We were ready for you coming. Your bedroom was done and all I had left to do was sit and wait for you to arrive.
My last ante-natal check on the Thursday I remember saying how I had such boring, straight-forward pregnancies.
On the Friday, sitting watching television at Grandma and Grandad's house I began to worry because you were so quiet, but I did nothing except worry. I didn't want to cause a fuss, to be seen as being a paranoid expectant Mum (if I had would it have made any difference)? And then we went to see "Bug's Life" with Jack on the Saturday; I gave you a poke every now and then to see if you would react, willing you to move. But even then I felt confident that you were OK and, if I went to the hospital to get checked-out, my fears would turn out to be groundless.
Finally going to the hospital with Grandma, still certain I would come away from there feeling like I'd wasted everybody's time - how wrong could I be. From the moment the midwife started the scan I knew; I knew you had gone. Your little heart was still, your little body just floating, unmoving. There was silence. A panic started inside of me that exploded when the Doctor wouldn't look me in the eyes - I just knew.
Poor Grandma, sitting at my side. Hers (and our) world collapsed. We knew in our heads but sill managed to deny it in our hearts - you had left us. You were dead.
Then the confusion, what to do next, how was I supposed to "be"? On the drive to Hampshire, wondering what on earth to tell your Daddy. How was I going to break this to him? How could I do that to a person? I have no idea how he felt when I told him and from that moment our feet didn't touch the ground. It feels like we were forced on a journey we didn't even want to go on and it was all too big and scary to be real. Surely a nightmare from which we would wake-up. But, so far, and forever, the nightmare continues.
The time in hospital I remember so clearly but as if in a horrible dream. So many Doctors, so many midwives, so many people, so much medical stuff, so much interference with my body. Daddy and I talked and cried and I think we may have laughed once or twice and then felt guilty. We tried to stay sane.
It took so, so long to be induced. I guess your body wasn't ready to leave mine. When the time finally came at 1315 on Tuesday 9th February 1999 I remember feeling so confused. I wanted it all to end but the ending was the beginning of letting you go. Letting you go from my body where I'd kept you safe, until the end. And the beginning of accepting the truth that you were really gone. I would have given anything, my life, to have held you inside me for just a moment longer (as I am writing this I can smell you, I can feel your skin against mine).
We had no idea you were a girl until after your arrival. I was SO scared to look at you. I didn't know what you would look like, but you were beautiful.
I kissed you and sang to you; Daddy showed you the sunshine out of the window. We held you together and then we let you go. We had to let you go darling. Please forgive me.
Leaving the hospital was one of the blackest moments. I didn't know where you were. I tried to blank it all from my mind but it just wasn't possible. But, all the same, this couldn't be happening to us; it wasn't real. People describe it as being like a dream, which is exactly what it was like. Unbelievable.
Everybody was so kind. From all the staff at the Princess Anne Hospital to family, friends, acquaintances, colleagues and even virtual strangers. Their support and understanding has made life slightly happier.
We don't know why you died; just "one of those things". Something you never expect in a million years will happen to you. Perhaps we were a little too complacent; a little too self-congratulatory at how easy new life was. Perhaps that was why we were dealt such a blow. Who knows. What I do know is the saddest part of all of this, my darling child, is you will never truly know all the love and happiness that was waiting for you.
But we have some 'positives' to keep us going and our Jack, your brother, is a big part of that. Jack is just such a great kid it's hard to be sad with him around. He seems to give us a laugh, or come for a cuddle just at the right time! My saving grace!
But I don't think this ache in my heart will ever go away for the longing for you, Katherine. I don't want the pain to go away. I want to live with it forever. It is as much a part of me as you are.
I kiss you goodnight, my sweetheart, my light who never had the chance to shine.
I love you always and forever,
Mummy x
Visit to National Sands Office on the First Anniversary by Auntie Emma
9th February 2000
This Wednesday was a day I had been thinking about for the past year; in particular the past few months. I knew I didn't want to be at work remembering the past year and the death of Katherine, my sister's baby. I knew I didn't want to sit at home thinking, something which all of us had done a lot of. So I did something "useful" I contacted Sands head office (London) to see if they could make use of someone for the day.
I was nervous, and excited and glad to be giving them something back because I know they have given my sister and all of us, the support we needed to come to terms with the events of the past year. I wondered what I would be doing and what everyone would be like. Mostly I was thinking about how to get through the day, remaining strong and composed until I got home and was in the company of my "shoulder".
Michelee met me from reception and walked me into the basement that everyone at Sands head office calls 'home.' My mind was put to rest as soon as I walked in the door; as you would expect everyone was so nice and normal. Then Michelee explained what I would be doing. We talked about how I was feeling and if I needed someone to talk to, or lost myself in my thoughts just to let someone know. My heart smiled. I have found it so hard to talk to anyone about it, so I haven't, not really, it's a unique experience and here there were a group of people who probably knew more of what I felt than I do. Speaking about Katherine and my sister during the day made me realise just how little I know about what happened and the emotions that are still flying around. Now I know I want to do all I can to change that.
Enough of the emotional thoughts! The office was different to what I am used to, but cluttered and friendly all the same.
My task for the day made me feel useful and something I could relate to. I put together the envelopes that contained information about the Sands memory card and the bereavement training days.
Running here there and everywhere; battling with the photocopier, trying to find the envelopes and the right coloured paper. Slowly everything came together and got posted out before I left for the evening. The memory cards, as you may already know, are a Sands designed card, my description of which wouldn't do them justice. So that's what I did for my day at Sands, as well as learning more about the organisation and a lot more about me, and my feelings.
The two things I remember most about my day with Sands. Firstly their "store cupboard". I could have sat in there for hours (with a big box of tissues) reading all the advice Sands offer to the parents, families and everyone involved in the tragic event of a stillbirth or neonatal death. An attempt to make sense of it all, the technical reasons, the what you should do - perhaps I should've done it a year ago rather than put it to the back of my mind; who knows. And secondly, just along the wall from the "room of answers", is a diagram of various circles depicting all the people who are affected by the death of a baby.
Looking at the day I realise what a worthwhile job the group at Sands do and how wonderful everyone is. I realise how little my own job is in the scheme of tragic loss. I realise how Sands help the many whose lives are affected and how I am going to all I can to help them, my sister and how we all really should talk more.
For personal reasons I hope to go back to Sands and help them some more and to show them the support and thanks they deserve for doing what they do. I am looking forward to visiting the Memorial Garden when it opens, and planting the rose I bought to remember Katherine by in my garden. As a last word I would like to say well done to Sands and all of you for surviving, helping and caring.
Why has it taken me over five years to actually do this!
Everyone around me here knows that it always takes me a long time to get around to doing things. I am sure you are up there thinking ‘come on Grandma, do it NOW’.
So many times during the past years I have been awake during the night sending you a message and my thoughts in my head.
I was with your Mummy at the hospital when the Doctor told us that you were no longer with us. That was and still is the most awful moment of my long life.
Whenever we go to see your Mummy, Daddy and you brother Jack we (Granddad and me) always take you some flowers to your ‘special’ place.
Unlike your Mummy and Auntie Emma, I don’t have the ability of knowing exactly the right things to say. What I do know, my darling, is that never a day passes without at some time you are in my thoughts.
I wonder what you would have been like as a baby. I try to imagine your first smile, your first words, your first steps. I wonder how we would have celebrated your birthdays. They would have been so special. A special day for a very special little girl. When Grandad or I have a birthday, Jack and your sister Ellen phone to sing Happy Birthday. I can almost hear you in the background joining in. I try to imagine how you would look in your first school uniform. Yes you should be at school now.
None of us here have been the same people since you left us. The sparkle has gone out of our lives. We are all struggling so hard to be brave for one another. I hope that you are proud of us. We miss you so much.
I have just looked out of the window, it is raining. Someone once said to me that rain is tears from our loved ones up above. Please don’t cry sweetheart. We so much want you with us but know that you are being looked after up there.
There is one silver lining to all that has happened during the past five years. I now have lots of friends around me at the Sands office in London. I work there two days a week. You are probably having a good laugh too as has everyone here. In all my 40+ years of working, I never wanted to go into London. Now that I an old enough to get my Old Age pension, I travel into London to the office. What a crazy Grandma.
Listen for me at night time when I send you my thoughts and all my love.
Bye for now
Your ever-loving Grandma.
Kieran & Ariela Amiss
My DH Keith and I have been married since Feb '95. He is English, I am South African. We knew that we would not become pregnant easily; Keith knew he had a problem with his sperm.
A year later after many hours of arguing about whether we should go and see a fertility expert. He eventually agreed. We were thoroughly tested and it was discovered that his problem was sperm that don't move. I have Poly Cystic Ovaries. We were told the only way we would succeed in having a baby with our own genetics was to have IVF. Keith agreed but said no more than 2.
During the weeks of medication and scans I never doubted that I would be pregnant and have a baby. It was so real to me that I would wake from dreams of babies smelling of baby powder. The day we went for the test Keith was so unsure he went to work it was a Sunday. When I heard the result I went to his office and told him. He was completely gobsmacked, to use his expression. We went to visit my parents and told them. Later that day we phoned Keith's mum to tell her. A week later Keith left for the UK for a business trip.
When we got to 8 weeks my Mom went with me for the first scan. We were joking about how many we would see. The scan showed a sac but no baby. A blighted ovum. Or to use a very cruel term a phantom pregnancy.
I felt like my world was going to end. But I still had to contact Keith and tell him. It must have been the most devastating thing to hear. He had been so excited. Six months later we tried again. Sadly, the same result. By this time everything around me was slowly starting to disintegrate. I was not coping as well in my high-pressure job etc.
After an 18 month break one day I drove to a different IVF clinic and made an appointment. Within seconds of my first scan with the new dr we saw that I had a fibroid. It was then suggested that was the cause of the two miscarriages. Once again we had hope.
I had surgery to remove the fibroid, and after a wonderful holiday we attempted our 3rd IVF. The result was positive. The first scan showed a little baby with a strongly beating heart. Overjoyed does not quite describe how happy we were. At a routine scan at 10w5d we discovered that our precious baby had died. The results showed our daughter had Turner's Syndrome.
Keith and I then had chromosomal testing, both came back normal. I was desperate to have a baby and wanted to try again immediately. Three months later we started our 4th cycle. Everything went perfectly. I repeatedly said that if it was not meant to be that please I should not be pregnant. Keith was devastated when my wish was granted.
Another six months later we started again. On test day I started bleeding. The test showed that the pregnancy hormone was high. 48 hours later it was still doubling. That meant more that one baby. Two weeks later I started bleeding again. The scan showed evidence of two babies.
Eighteen months later we decided to try again. The cycle went well up to egg retrieval day. Only two eggs. Both fertilised but by transfer day there was not much hope.
Our doctor gave us the offer of doing a 5th cycle at no cost other than meds and clinic costs. It was a huge reduction, and we had decided to take the option of relocating to England.
The cycle went smoothly. Other than me being adamant about a day 3 transfer there were no problems. Pregnancy test day came. My nerves were so raw I could not even tell if I was pregnant or if my heart and brain were trying to protect me. The test was highly positive. Two weeks later at 6 weeks we found TWO flickering heartbeats. Now it was my turn to be gobsmacked. Keith looked like a Cheshire cat. Our doctor did several scans before we left South Africa when I was 8w3d, everything was going brilliantly.
We had registered with a GP in Winchester so had booked an appointment with him for the day after our arrival. He referred me to an Obstetrian and a midwife. The obstetrician was arrogant and abrupt on every meeting. He was adamant that I should stop taking a medication that my SA doctor had put me on. At 16 weeks I agreed under duress.
On the 28th of February 2002 we went to have our 20 week scan. Both babies were measuring ahead of dates, were very active and looked wonderful. The arrogant obstetrician had sent a junior doctor to see me for my monthly appointment. She then reported back to him and he came into the room and said all is going fine with you I don't want to see you for 8 weeks. That was 17:00. We left the hospital did a little shopping on the way home.
At 19:00 I had been complaining of pain for a while and still felt really uncomfortable. It felt like my bladder had strained after being pressed on while the scan was done. By 22:00 I was going to bed all pain was gone but when I went to the loo there was blood on the paper. The midwife said to come to the hospital. We were repeatedly told there was nothing that could be done our babies were going to be born and would die. I was sobbing and Keith looked like a deer facing the headlights.
The following morning the rude obstetrician scanned me. Both babies were still ok and I was only 3cm dilated. Fortunately he then left for a weekend off. His colleague who was a gentle and very knowledgeable woman suggested we could go to the Princess Anne Hospital in Southampton. They agreed to try and help us. By the time we arrived at PAH, I was 9cm dilated and they could see a babies foot.
The people were nothing but amazing, a week later our precious son Kieran and daughter Ariela were born. At 21 weeks there was no chance of their lives being saved.
What the future holds for us is unsure, but the most important thing to us is that we are still together and love and respect each other more than we could ever have imagined. We had said only 2 IVF's but after 7 we still do not have a living child, and as much as we have had phenomenal pain on the other end of the scale there is no way to feel as happy as we did when things were going well, even if the time was so short-lived. Sadly my longing to have a child is as strong as it was 7 years ago.
It was in the last trimester that had a few problems that showed up in the antenatal checks: glucose in my urine; itchiness; headaches and high blood pressure on occasions, which resulted in visiting the day unit at Princess Anne hospital for monitoring, all these seemed to come to nothing.
In the few days before Katie died I was taken into the hospital for monitoring because my blood pressure was too high and pre-eclampsia may have been developing. The doctor did say then that they would have to deliver if it didn't go down.. In retrospect.. how we wish they had! The blood pressure had dropped a little by the Thursday and I was advised to get it checked a couple of times a week at the local hospital, commencing that Sunday.
The weeks leading up to this time were harrowing to say the least, we were having a new kitchen put in at home and I found it very difficult to get any rest or quiet, not to mention living out of the conservatory and washing up in the bathroom! My carefully followed healthy eating diet began to go to pot and I got increasingly stressed out. On the Friday I had lunch with friends then went off to the maternity unit in the local hospital for a relaxation class. I wish I'd asked for my blood pressure to be checked but would it have made any difference? Probably not! I did notice there was less movement that day than usual.
That evening we had Chinese takeaway with friends and I had terrible diarrhoea so we went home early. We joked about the possibility of it being labour starting! How ironic! I slept fairly well but woke 7am-ish with stomach pains. We thought it was because of the diarrhoea and wondered whether not to call the midwife.. the pains got increasingly worse, they were low down and like non-stop contractions.. so eventually around 9-ish.. I did call and went off down to the doctor's.. they sent me straight to Princess Anne Hospital.
I was in agony by then, I couldn't straighten up and thought (hoped) I was in labour. People have asked me since whether or not I guessed what had really happened but I honestly just thought and hoped and prayed I was in labour, although part of me knew that what I was experiencing wasn't normal contractions. We went straight to the day unit where I had been monitored earlier in the week and they started to listen to the heartbeat.. where was it? Difficult to find.. impossible to find… at least 3 or more midwives and doctors tried to listen to the heartbeat. It had always been so strong and loud.. we couldn't find it.. I just KNEW then that the baby had died. Nick & I looked at each other and all our plans and dreams just crashed down around us in that cubicle... All I could think of was how sorry I was to have let Nick and the baby down..
The medical staff got other machines.. still no heartbeat.. so we were taken downstairs for various ultrasounds, I remember praying harder than I ever have in my life on that short journey that was longer than a lifetime. but nothing changed the fact that the baby had died. It was unbelievable.. on Wednesday I had recorded the baby's heart beat on Nick's dictaphone so he could hear it.. now there was nothing! Severe placental abruption we were told.. right before a morphine jab! The cause? Who knows? I had pre-eclampsia by then. Was it that? Was it the high blood pressure? Was it God? What had I done wrong?
I was taken into a side room where I was induced and although quite "out of it" because of the morphine, I was aware of allsorts of tests, catheters, pessaries, blood taken, 2 lines in my hands, one on my wrist, one in my elbow and much later on one in my neck too! They first put a drip in my hand. An epidural was also put in and as the day went on I was aware of increasing feeling of anxiety in the air. My platelet count was decreasing and it seemed I was still bleeding internally. By late afternoon they began to transfuse blood, I was getting more and more dangerously ill due to the internal bleeding, so they decided it would be necessary to have a Caesarean Section because of the risk to my life and under a general too because of complications. How did I feel through all this? I'd lost my baby.. I couldn't give my darling husband the baby we'd been planning and dreaming of.. I felt numb and most probably in shock. Of course my natural wish to make others feel better kicked in and I found myself laughing and joking with all the staff, my friend and Nick.. whilst inside a tidal wave of emotion was threatening to break at any moment.. The worst instant as I recall was when I was wheeled into the room next to the theatre and had to sign the consent form, they then told me that to save my life they may have to perform a hysterectomy.. that's when I cried.. to lose my baby is terrible,, the worst you can imagine.. but never to be able to have the chance of another baby, THAT was just too much!
I remember seeing the clock at about 6.30pm or so then being woken up at 11.30 pm.. what on earth had happened in all those hours? I was on a ventilator so couldn't speak initially but Nick and my sister were there and told me we had a beautiful little girl and that luckily I still had my uterus intact. They said I was critically ill and to concentrate on getting better. Katie had been born at 1925 they took her to Nick and took lots of photos while they bathed and clothed her. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME DOING THAT!! She was so perfect... looked just like her mummy!! At 4 and half lbs and 17 inches long she most certainly would have survived had we known sooner!
Katie Aileen Tubb
Born and died 16th March 2002
Weighing 4 ½ lbs (1995g) and 17 inches long
Too perfect for this Earth
I was really quite ill and not out of danger so was taken over to the General Hospital to be cared for in the High Dependency Unit. I know it's silly but my strongest memory of that very hazy time was the unquenchable thirst.. I hadn't drunk since Friday night really and they still didn't want me to in case I needed more surgery. The next day I was desperate to see Nick and asked the staff to call him.. a few times! When he came they brought Katie over on our request and I held my little girl for the first time.. I was so scared.. Nick had got to know her well the previous night and showed me her beautiful face and body.. I so wanted to see her little bottom.. that botty that had stuck out all the time and we had tickled and smacked it playfully in my tummy.. We somehow didn't dare take all her clothes off though.. too inhibited I suppose.. I'll regret that for ever…
Later on that day they agreed that I was making remarkable progress and allowed me to go back to the Princess Anne. Katie came with us and stayed with me for the next day too. This time is very hazy and distorted in my memory as I was on strong morphine and had funny reactions to it or the general anaesthetic so that I could hardly breathe, Nick had to tell me to take every breath as I seemed to have lost the instinct for it.. On the Monday we asked them to take Katie away.. decided it would be hard to say goodbye at any time so then was as good a time as any.. knowing what I know now I would have kept her with us longer, so I could have held her when fully cognisant.. another regret in the hundreds stored up..
On the Tuesday I was really doing much better so I could go to the Sands room on Burley Ward. This was a specially designated room for couples in our position. It is tastefully decorated and equipped like a hotel room and with a sofa bed so Nick could stay with me over night.. that was worth more than anything to me!! There were various books and magazines about stillbirth and neonatal death so I began my quest for knowledge about my situation.
The hospital is very well prepared for stillbirth and they had taken hand and footprints and a lock of hair as well as numerous photos.. these we will treasure forever. There is also a bereavement midwife who helped us through each stage, including the terrible official side of registering the stillbirth. She explained what had happened in that I had developed DIC ~ a complication which means that clots develop all over your body but not at the site where it is needed so they had to give me blood and platelet transfusions which, luckily I did eventually respond to.. but during that week people kept hinting at really how critically ill had been.. still don't think I have got my head totally round that fact. She guided us emotionally also and is still at the end of the phone should we need her even now! I went home on the Friday and have been recovering slowly ever since.
We had agreed, reluctantly and very painfully, to a post mortem and so when we went to Katie in the funeral parlour we had already been briefed and prepared as to what we may expect. Katie had been dressed in an outfit that I had bought specially for her. It was rather large but that didn't matter, she was beautiful and perfect anyway! When we got there we were kept waiting for a while even though we had arranged to come at that time, then a young girl came to us and said she'd have to wash the baby's hair because she was covered in blood.. can you imagine how distressing this was? I wanted to wash her.. and what a tactless thing to say.. why the hell hadn't they sorted this out before we arrived or told us to come at a later time? When we saw Katie, they hadn't even changed her, blood was soaked through her clothes. At the back of her neck, her tummy and between her legs… bless her! I was distraught and will NEVER forgive them for putting me through that! Surely they could have changed her? I wouldn't have minded so much if she'd seemed to have been treated with more care. SO I went straight off to buy her new fresh clothes.. a beautiful flowery dress, pants, bootees and hat, all matching.. gorgeous.. we took them to the funeral parlour and asked them to dress her properly in these clothes.
The next day we went to see her again, she was beautiful, had an almost serene smile on her face and I felt she was at peace. We gave her a cuddly dog from her grandparents, a special pouch from her nana and cousin Lindsey and a photo of her mummy and daddy so she could have these with her forever and know how much she was loved. The funniest thing happened.. as I lent down to kiss her a final goodbye we noticed a white feather laying next to our photo, now we were sure it hadn't been there moments before when we had undone her cardigan and fiddled with her clothes.. but there it was.. a pressie for her mummy.. an angel feather to keep always!
The funeral was held on April 10th 2002 here in Romsey, it was a beautiful but cold day, Katie was laid to rest and I read out a poem for her that I'd written myself. I visit the cemetery often and its such a peaceful place it gives me calm and hope.
After 6 weeks we met with my consultant to discuss what had happened and although there are several possibilities we probably will never know for sure! They had discovered blood clots in the placenta during the post mortem so I had a thorough Thrombophilia screen to test for any anomalies. It was discovered that I do have some blood clotting problems, which can be helped through taking aspirin and injecting a form of heparin in future pregnancies. So tragic for our darling Katie but good to be able to do something positive in the future.
I have had much support from family and friends and also from my Sands friends and all those wonderful people on the Babyloss website.. I couldn't have survived without them… I have realised how death is such a taboo subject in our culture and even more so the death of a baby. It is still the loss of our precious babies; of our hopes and dreams; our future with our angels… I have learnt so much since Katie died.. I could write a book of thoughtless and hurtful things people have said to me. Mostly unintentionally, usually, in trying to support or protect but hurtful still the same. I am not the same person, nor shall I ever be.. People expect me to be "over it" or "moving on" but that will NEVER happen for I shall never forget my first born, my darling perfect Katie Aileen, I shall never stop grieving for her although I know in time I shall become more accustomed to living without her. I don't look forward to that time either.. do you understand that? I don't want her not to be in my every thought, to dream about holding her and having her open her eyes to smile at me.. I live for those thoughts, for they protect her memory, keep her real in my thoughts.
I want to play my part to raise awareness of Babyloss so that it may help those who suffer to be treated more sensitively, for people to communicate with us and for our society to understand that indeed such loss needs time to allow us to grieve freely and openly without embarrassment or fear. I want to do this in Katie's name so that I feel her loss is not without some positive result. I have to struggle through prejudice from friends and family who feel that it is doing me no good to concentrate so much on baby loss... how can they understand? How can they know how it feels to hold your own flesh and blood, your own child, dead in your arms.. why can't our society allow us to grieve in our own way and let us do what we feel is right without judgement?
In June 2002 it was the Queen's Golden Jubilee and that very weekend new life began in my womb.. yes! I'm pregnant again.. due in February 2002.. We have discovered that it is a boy.. Charlie Tubb.. a brother for Katie and already so loved.. It's an exciting yet scary time for us so pray for us and our unborn baby.. and light a candle for our precious Katie Aileen Tubb…
Janet Tubb October 2002
Click here to read a poem written by Janet
Click here to visit Katie's website
Katie Michelle Hurst
I left work on Wednesday, 21st April 1999, so excited about starting my maternity leave. It was going to be time for myself before our new baby arrived. Ray, Zoë (aged 5) and I were really looking forward to our new arrival; we had waited a while for this baby.
The following day I had my routine antenatal appointment. I felt fine but discussed with the midwife about my concerns. My bump seemed so small and I asked whether the baby was OK. She examined me and said she wasn't worried. To put my mind at rest she asked whether I would like a scan. I went round to the scan department to make an appointment and, as they were not very busy, they gave me a scan straight away. They put my mind at rest and said the baby was fine and weighed just under 6lb.
The following day I was rushing around taking Zoë to school, having my hair permed and doing the week's shopping. I noticed that morning I had a slightly uncomfortable, heavy feeling, like the start of a period. I actually thought the baby was going to arrive that weekend. By the afternoon I didn't feel too good, a little tired, so I went to have a lay on the bed. After a while I felt better but later in the evening started to feel quite concerned as I hadn't felt the baby move much. The baby had always been quite active. I had a bath, and then a lay down on the settee and started to prod around with my stomach. Ray become very worried and we decided we would just take a trip up the hospital to see if everything was all right.
We waited a while in the waiting room and I read a couple of letters on the notice board. The first two I read were from parents whose babies had died. I started to feel very frightened. The midwife (Kath) called us in and tried to find a heartbeat and couldn't. As they had always found a heartbeat so quickly we just knew something was wrong. A more senior doctor then came to see us, this time with a mini scan machine. Even before he put the scan on my stomach he said "I'm sorry to be meeting you at this sad time". There just wasn't a heartbeat and we were taken into another room where I was to deliver our baby.
Ray had to leave me at the hospital to make arrangements for our Zoë to be looked after. I was very well looked after by the hospital staff and had endless cups of tea offered to me. Ray finally returned to the hospital and stayed with me. After a very long 24 hours I delivered a baby girl who weighed 5lb 12oz at 12.07 am on Sunday, 25th April. I was 37 weeks and 5 days into my pregnancy.
We held her, had her blessed by the hospital chaplain and spent lots of time telling her what a loving family she would have joined. Our Zoë would have made so much fuss of her. She had already told us that she knew how to change a nappy!
We were put into a lovely room to have some sleep and the next morning we saw our baby again. Finally we had to leave our lovely Katie Michelle at the hospital which was a very difficult thing to do. We will never forget that drive home feeling so empty and confused.
The next few days were like living in a nightmare. We had an abundance of flowers and cards and the telephone never stopped ringing. We were kept busy with arranging our daughter's funeral. We finally saw her for the last time in the chapel of rest the day before her funeral. We were warned that babies deteriorate very quickly but when we saw her she was absolutely beautiful and looked so much like our Zoë.
We finally had our follow-up appointment six weeks later with our consultant to discuss the results. We were told that they could find no reason why we lost her.
Life has been tough over the last 10 months but we have our Zoë we have to keep going for. We feel very angry that it was our Katie that was taken from us.
If anything good can come out of loosing a baby, then the friendship we have made with Lorraine and Simon from Southampton through Sands, is a good example. Lorraine and Karen have become good buddies and know they are 'there' for each other when they are having a bad day. We shall always be grateful for that.
We will never forget our little Katie and feel that God now has a special little angel.
Karen, Ray and Zoë Hurst
15th February 2000
The 25th April 1999, the date that will always be with me; such a normal day, with exciting weeks ahead. Our second baby that we had waited so long for was due in two weeks.
My wife Karen, had a fairly good pregnancy, everything normal, nothing to worry about, then all of a sudden everything changed and our lives were turned upside down. Our other daughter Zoe, was our tower of strength and she gave Karen and myself something to focus on.
From the moment Karen told me she hadn't felt the baby move I just knew deep down we had lost her. From arriving at St. Peters Hospital everything moved very fast. Two scans, no movement, the doctor showing us our baby on the scan but without that bit of her I wanted to see, her little heartbeat.
The emotions we went through before Karen gave birth were unreal. I kept thinking to myself they had they made a mistake? Was our baby going to be born alive? When our Katie Michelle was born they hadn't made a mistake. The instant bonding between her and us was heartbreaking. I remember holding her in my arms; she was small and beautiful. I just wanted so much to take her to all the other wards in the hospital and show off my baby to everyone. If they could have let me I wanted so much to take her home to show her proudly off to friends, family, neighbours, etc. I even contemplated taking her home and just keeping her somewhere so no-one else could take her away from us. The hurt I felt about leaving her there at the hospital was indescribable. Both my wife and I drove home feeling so alone in our grief. I really don't know how I managed to drive home safely that day.
I remember telling Zoe what had happened and that was hard. She had already told Karen that she knew how to change a nappy. She would have made such a lovely big sister. When we visit Katie's rose bush at the crematorium now she knows where to go and runs over and likes to place little gifts and flowers for her little sister.
I felt so helpless, after all, I was supposed to be the man in the family and protect the ones that I loved and cared for. My child had died and I felt that I should have done something to prevent it. I felt that I had to be strong for Karen. People often say that men don't show their emotions; we do but feel we have to stay strong and perhaps cover up the way that we feel. We do grieve for our babies and even now when I am at work or driving in the car on my own I talk to Katie.
Nowadays, if anyone asks how many children I have I always count Katie as one of my children and still feel that she is here with us. It's hard because people find it very hard to talk about stillbirth. It is every parent's nightmare and no-one every thinks it is going to happen to them.
I must stress that partners grieve in different ways and that causes stress between them. The other one may think that he/she doesn't care. You just have to realise that people grieve differently and you mustn't punish yourself for the way you are dealing with your loss.
In the early days the pain was so raw and the tears very immense. Now, two years later, the pain is not so raw but the tears still come back now and again. I will never forget Katie and when I see Karen having a bad day the memories just come flooding back. It has bought us closer together and it makes you realise all the good things you have in your life. You really have to be grateful for all that you have.
I will never forget our darling Katie Michelle. I just hope by people reading this, it will help them in their time of grief. My heart really does go out to all of you.
Ray Hurst
Charlotte Jacobs
I am married to Martin and we have 4 children. Our first is Samuel who is nearly 4, he is wonderful, our second is Baby Bunting who died when I was 12 weeks pregnant, our third is Baby Iowa who also died when I was 12 weeks pregnant and our fourth is Charlotte Louise who was stillborn on 9th May 2001 when I was 24 weeks pregnant.
I still can't believe all this has happened. My pregnancy and birth with Sam was normal, I then fell pregnant with Baby Bunting and just assumed everything would be ok. Then in August 1999, at 12 weeks I started to bleed and was then told I had lost my baby. The miscarriage was very painful and horrible. For approx 7 months after Baby Bunting I was a total wreck, I only carried on for Sam's sake. I wanted to get pregnant again to fill the hole in me and it took over my life. I then found out I was pregnant again, but pregnancy tests weren't positive for 3 weeks after I should have been. I think deep down I knew something wasn't right, but I was living on 'hope'. In May 2000, on the first day of our holiday to the Isle of Wight I started to bleed. The miscarriage wasn't as painful, but I was again in total shock. We named the baby, Baby Iowa.
The doctors told me how common miscarriages are and one doctor said I had proved the statistics right (what a nice comment!!). I then insisted on tests and lost 3 stone in weight (I had to blame something, so I blamed me for being overweight). The tests were all ok.
Three days before Christmas 2000, I found out I was pregnant again with Charlotte. As we were now under the hospital we had a scan done at 7 weeks and we saw her as a little blob. At 10 weeks and 12 weeks we had more scans because a lump was felt (still don't know what this was), we saw Charlotte wave at us. At 15 weeks I was told she had a good heartbeat and my womb was the right size. At 20 weeks I had the normal scan and saw all her bits. At that time I was starting to get worried as Charlotte wasn't kicking me enough. I told people but they thought I was just being paranoid. To me her scan pictures looked odd as her tummy looked big compared to Sam's scan pictures. At 21 weeks, my midwife told me that I was a normal pregnancy and to stop worrying. Charlotte was still not kicking me enough, but at 22 weeks she really kicked me and Martin felt her as well. A few days after that I think I knew something was wrong as I told Martin and my mum that I thought the baby had been saying goodbye. I then carried on and convinced myself all was well and that because I had a front placenta I couldn't feel her move. At my 24 week midwife appointment I was told she had died.
I gave birth to Charlotte and will never forget the pain. We saw her for ½ hour, but I couldn't hold her, because and it sounds horrible, she was a dead baby. Of course now I wish I had, but then could I have let her go? I touched her and put my tears on her face. Her head shape was the same as Sam's when he was a baby. Martin and I saw her again and my mum, step-dad and brother came to see her as well. The last time I saw her I gave her 2 kisses. I also got one of her finger nails, so very very small. She was buried at Winchester and we put loads of things with her including a book we had written in, a picture from Sam, a duck, a private message from Martin and a For Far Athletic football ticket. She will always be 'Our little squidgey nose girl' - which is the writing on her grave.
Esme Jacobs January 2002
May the 8th 2001 started off like any other day except that we were expecting another child and Esme was going for a routine check-up with the mid-wife. We had got through the dreaded twelve weeks having had two previous miscarraiges at that stage. The twenty week scan several weeks earlier showed a perfectly healthy baby with a strong heart. My father had had a heart attack on the previous Saturday and so I kept my mobile phone on whilst driving as I would pull over if needs be.
I remember nearing Fareham Magistrate's courthouse where I was going for a meeting. The phone rang and I pulled over into the car park. It was from home so I phoned straight back. Nothing could have prepared me for the next conversation. Esme, my wife was in tears saying that she had been to the mid-wife and that she couldn't find a heart beat so Esme was to go straight to the hospital for a check. We both tried to convince each other that they had got it wrong because Esme had a front placenta with Charlotte. I had to get to Winchester hospital as soon as possible. Esme was being taken there by her mother.
Two minutes after setting off the phone went again - I hoped that she was phoning back to say that all was now well and they had got it wrong, but it was someone from work who was phoning me up to tell me to phone home urgently because something was wrong. I tried to get back onto the motorway to get to Winchester but there wasn't any slip-road and I drove around several roundabouts before coming back to where I started. I told myself to keep calm and think logically as I HAD to get to the hospital. I therefore drove through the back-roads which I knew but were also much slower.
I arrived at the maternity unit some thirty minutes later and was directed into a side-room where Esme was waiting with her mum. After some cuddles and disbelief looks a radiologist came in and started to examine my child, my baby. By the look on her face it was plain to see that something was wrong and this was confirmed by the fact that she had to request that another doctor come in and examine the scan.
The next day or so was dreadful. We stayed at the hospital and Charlotte was in induced. It was a long night waiting for our dead baby to be born. We stayed in the Sands room all the time. Esme's waters finally broke the next morning and I rushed out to get a mid-wife. I totally forgot that there was a call button by the bed, maybe it was something that I had to do. I had to go for a call of nature, as I would be needed even more very soon. However, whilst I was away for a few minutes, Charlotte was born. I came back into the room and she was on a trolley in a tray whilst Esme was being treated by the mid-wife. I felt totally helpless.
We saw her after a while. She was brought in by the mid-wife. She was dead. My daughter, our daughter, our hopes. I was scared. I didn't know what to do. I just sat and looked at her. We didn't know what to do. What was acceptable? Our dead daughter. She was in a small carry cot. I saw her once more and I touched her and Esme gave her a kiss. I wished that I had held her. I didn't know what to do. I felt helpless. I was trying to be strong for Esme. A few days later on a hot day I just shivered all the time as the adrenalin gave up. I was in shock. I felt helpless. I couldn't do anything to make it better.
I looked at Esme and saw nothing where a bump should have been. I was getting angry. Why?????
Martin (Daddy to 4 children)
It is now a year since Charlotte was born. I still can't believe it, it still feels like a dream that I will wake up from. I still wait anxiously for the post every morning hoping that a letter will tell me all this never happened and that Charlotte is somewhere waiting for me to go and collect her. Up until her birthday I kept saying to myself this time last year I was pregnant, heard her heart beat, saw her on the scan, saw her wave at us etc.
I didn't know how I would react, the worst bit I found were the days leading up to the day I think she died, 25th April. Last year she really kicked me that night (not much before) and I am sure it was just before she died. Her actual birthday was a strange day I didn't know what to do with myself. We took some 1st Birthday ornaments up to her garden (grave) and cards and sang happy birthday. I had wanted to let a balloon go, but couldn't in the end as I would worry about the balloon and if it was ok. To me it felt that the balloon was a symbol of Charlotte and I couldn't cope with losing her again. Also the anniversary of the last time I saw her and her burial day were bad, because I knew that it was now a year since the last time I saw her, touched her and was close to her. I think because I know what has happened will never change, the days are just the same to me, a feeling of failure, empty arms, not knowing my future, being jealous of pregnant people, anger etc. I am learning to live with this.
A year on, at the time I couldn't imagine a year on. Life was just ……….. (the worst words you can think of). The main thing I wanted to do was to make sure that Charlotte was part of our every day family. We have pictures of her, a wall plaque with her birthday on, our sideboard is her (and Baby Bunting and Baby Iowa) place with bits on. I buy things for her garden when out shopping and on holiday. We might not actually talk about her every day but she is there with us always. Baby Bunting and Baby Iowa (2 miscarraiges) were part of our family before Charlotte was born, but they are more 'solid' now as we have somewhere to go for them now, ie Charlotte's garden. We go to her garden every Sunday and my mum, step-dad and brother go often as well.
I have been referred to St Mary's hospital in London. They have a miscarriage clinic there. They found out that I have a form of sticky blood. They are in the early stages of investigating this problem but have advised me to take aspirin if I should become pregnant again. We also had Charlotte's cells test for genetic problems. So far nothing has come up. I also had some counselling, which I found very good as I could say all the things I wanted and she just listen (so few people do, they just change the subject). I am now very worried that something will happen to me, Sam and Martin and my family. I feel I have lost all my innocents about life and am just scared of what will happen next. I am in better control of this now since seeing the counsellor but still worry. I am a born worrier!!
Click here to read a poem written by Martin
Ryan Hill
I remember the day I found out I was pregnant, I was so happy. This was short lived as I tried to miscarry 3 times. The joy of seeing the baby on the screen, little heart beating. As time went on a bump appeared, little kicks getting bigger, leave my bladder alone.
At 30 weeks I take ill, an emergency section at 33 weeks.
Waking up a mum, 4lb 3oz a little boy no name. Feeling so ill I tell my husband to pick a name, Ryan Andrew Hill named after a footballer and my friend who died.
I get to see him 24 hours after his birth, he is so happy to see me he cooes, smiles and grabs my hand, mummy is here.
24 hours later Ryan is critical nobody knows what's wrong. My husband is distraught.
The paramedics take him to Glasgow, I can't go with him. Separate ambulance peak time we rush to Glasgow, first thing I ask is he still alive.
A nurse comes Ryan is critical, not long to live. We go upstairs he dies 5 minutes after we get there; there is nothing they can do for him.
Were put in a room just us two and our dead baby, I am numb, Paul is distraught.
The nurse washes Ryan, the smell of Johnson's baby wash and lotion. She puts him in a nice blue suit.
My parent's come they have previously lost 2 babies all Boys.
We cuddle him for hours passing him between the 4 of us. Photo's taken.
I persuade my husband to leave his son, the hardest thing I have ever done.
We go back to Livingston; nurses have been sent home, as they are distraught.
1 Week later we bury our son, Lots of people come.
The little white box, it hurts so much.
My best friend is pregnant I hate her so much.
Born to early died to soon
Six months later I can't let go, I feel betrayed I loved him so.
Nine months have passed and I know its time to move on, my friend has had a baby girl Rebecca I am now godmother to.
2 Years on I have had a baby boy Aaron Paul he is like Ryan, but he is not Ryan. I sit and stare at him I can't believe he is mine. I am scared someone will come and thank me for looking after him for them. I tell Aaron about Ryan all the time.
"What we keep in memories is ours unchanged forever"
In Memory of Ryan Andrew Hill Born 13th of May 2001, Died 16th of May 2001.
Written by Jackie Hill
Eleanor Dobson-Rice
Richard and I decided in January 2002 that we wanted to start a family. After years of looking after other people's children as a teacher and nanny, I was to have my own. I was 28 and for some reason I wanted to have a baby by the time I was 30. I was so excited and rushed out to Superdrug to get some Folic Acid tablets, pregnancy tests and an armful of pregnancy magazines.
The next month I turned 29 and Richard said, "By the time you are 30 you'll be a mummy!"
By March I was pregnant.We were both SO happy. I started to eat platefuls of spinach, broccoli and huge bowls of cereal and read every article going on pregnancy. I loved being pregnant! It was a wonderful time. Each week we read what was happening to my body and the baby and I ate certain things at certain times to help the baby develop to its full potential. I started to buy things too and told everyone that we knew. There was no reason to think that there would be a problem. I didn't know anyone who had lost a baby and it wasn't something that occurred might happen to me.
All was well up until our 20 week scan.We were so looking forward to seeing our baby and we both wanted to find out if it was a boy or a girl. Stupidly we had been telling people that we wanted a boy. Our scan was on Thursday 8th August. I was exactly 20 weeks pregnant. We had booked the whole day off work so that afterwards we could go somewhere nice to celebrate. We were going to take the ferry over to the Isle of Wight. Sitting in the waiting room at Bitterne Health Centre we giggled like children. We were so excited to be finally about to see our baby. So many mothers whose children I had looked after had shown me their scan photos and I had always longed for my turn and here it was!
Eventually we were called in. The sonographer started to look at our baby but within minutes it was clear that something was wrong. She turned to face us with an awful expression on her face - "I'm sorry but there is a problem with your baby".
My world stopped spinning. I felt completely numb. I didn't believe what I had heard. What do you mean there is a problem? She couldn't tell us exactly but there was a problem and by the way she was talking and by looking at her face I knew that it was serious. She made an appointment for us to see Dr. Howe at the Princess Anne Hospital first thing the next morning and then we went home, clutching my precious scan photos and crying uncontrollably. I must have put everyone in the waiting room off going in for their scan!
I can't remember how we made it through the rest of that day. I went to bed and cried. I phoned my mum and employer, people who were expecting, "It's going to be a girl/boy!" No one could believe it, least of all Richard and I. Why us? What have we done wrong to deserve this? I slept and when I woke up it was still there, not a dream. My heart broke. I wanted my precious baby to be OK. I didn't want to lose him or her.
It was to become a painful task-going backwards and forwards to the hospital. I had had so many daydreams about going there to have our baby, people visiting bringing flowers and gifts for the new arrival. Instead it is the place that we lost our first baby.
My mum and dad, who were such a support through it all, got straight on a plane in Aberdeen and flew down just to be here.
Next morning couldn't come too soon. We had to wait to see Dr. Howe in the Ultrasound waiting room with other pregnant ladies which was pretty awful. Dr. Howe saw us along with a genetecist and two consultant midwifes. I was sure that the lady at Bitterne had made a mistake. I wouldn't have been cross if she had - I just wanted our baby to be OK. Dr. Howe did a detailed scan and then had to go and consult with his colleagues as he had never seen our problem before. He contacted every hospital in the country and none of them had seen it either so even now he couldn't tell us what had gone wrong. The first thing we were asked was if we wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl - it was a girl and we called her Eleanor. My heart broke all over again. Knowing that it was a girl made everything seem so much more real. The bones in her limbs had not developed well and the ulna was missing from each arm. The missing bones indicated mental disability too. We asked to see an orthopedic doctor so that he could tell us what he could do for our child when she was born. We were told that she would not be able to use her arms or hands and the extreme shortness of her legs and the fact that the bones were not straight meant that she would not be able to walk. Also there was the possibility of brain damage and maybe other things too. Nobody said "your child will be able to do this and this". Everything was negative. I searched for something positive as I wanted to keep our baby but she had very serious problems, things I wouldn't wish anyone to have to live with. She would have no quality of life. Except that if she had lived she would have been the most loved little girl in the world and I would have done anything in my power to make her life a little better.
Richard and I had to make the most difficult decision that anyone could be asked to make. We both eventually decided, although it upset me so much, that we would not carry on with the pregnancy. We made the decision as we thought it was for the best for Eleanor.
I gave birth to Eleanor a week later after being induced. She was born at 9:20pm on August 16th weighing 14oz. She was the most beautiful and wonderful thing that we had ever seen. We spent the next day with her. We had her christened Eleanor Dobson-Rice. We have since found out that I have a gene change in my family and coupled with Richards sperm being damaged through a fluke accident Eleanor had no working X chromosome. There is a 1 in 4 chance each time we try for a baby that we will have similar problems. We had a funeral service, just Richard, me and the hospital chaplain at her grave side on September 2nd in Hollybrook Cemetery. I remember how hard it was to leave Eleanor at the hospital. It got to 5pm and I thought," Right! We are going to have to do this sooner or later and whenever we do it's going to be unbearable painful." We had been in our room in Bassett Ward since 8am the previous day and although nobody was putting any pressure on us to leave I thought that it was time. It's still too painful to think about it now. We asked the nurse if she would leave us for 10 minutes to say our goodbyes and then come in and take Eleanor away. For those 10 minutes we looked at and kissed and touched and smelt our tiny little girl's head. I thought that if I did things lots of times then it would stay in my head for longer. Now I know that I will never forget. Ten minutes passed too soon and the nurse soon reappeared to take Eleanor away. That memory is still too painful to think about. We left the hospital in tears and arrived home devastated and empty. I had imagined coming home with our new baby when I was pregnant. I had never imagined this.
Now, nearly one year on, I still miss her so much it hurts my heart. Photos of when I was pregnant with Eleanor are still too painful to look through. I have a memory box for her which I love looking through but it is still so upsetting. I wonder all the time what she would be like now. Christmas will never be the same as she was due on boxing day and my 30th birthday brought back a lot of painful memories - I had become a mummy but my baby had died. I am pregnant again and due on August 20th-four days after we lost Eleanor. Her baby brother will be brought up knowing all about his beautiful big sister-another heart for my angel baby to live on in.
Sleep tight my darling Eleanor.
Bobby Scott-Denness
You were my first beloved grandchild.
When your Mummy told me she was carrying you it was my birthday and I knew you were the most wonderful gift I could ever have.
I was privileged to be with your mummy and hear your little heart beating when she went for a check-up.
Bobby sweetheart, just a few short weeks later we heard that heart was damaged and you had many other major problems. I sat in tears with your Mummy and Daddy as the doctor told them you would not be with them very long after you were born.
You tried so hard Bobby, you were always kicking your Mummy and your heart was beating strongly but you grew tired and fell asleep after 34 weeks in your Mummy's tummy.
I am so glad I had the chance to cradle you in my arms just one time darling. I so wanted to be your special Nanna and to spoil you as you grew. We would have fed the ducks, baked cakes, read stories and kicked up the leaves in the park.
Christmas is nearly here now Bobby, you would have loved looking at all the pretty lights sweetie. Instead of buying you presents for under the tree I am getting something to put at your resting place.
Nanna keeps you with her all the time Bobby, wearing a heart with your name on. It brings you a bit closer but I miss you so much sweetheart.
"Where are you going? To dance among the stars"
In memory of Bobby William Scott-Denness born asleep 18th September 2004.
Emily Fricker
After 4 miscarriages we had finally got to 36 weeks and thought that nothing could possibly happen now. We were on the home run and because of my diabetes I was going to be induced at 38 - 39 weeks.
On Wednesday 29th September I had a growth scan and they found extra fluid. I saw the Consultant but he wasn't worried and wanted me to have a heart trace done to check the baby was okay. So on Friday 1st October I went to hospital to have the trace done. But they couldn't find a heartbeat. so they tried with the doppler - nothing. By now I had a horrible feeling they brought in a portable scanner but said it wasn't good enough views so they sent me upstairs to the normal scanner and they couldn't find a heartbeat either.
Then they said the words you dread to hear "Sorry your baby has died."
My Mum went and called my husband Rick at work and we were all told by the doctors what happens now. But to me it was all a blur. I remember taking a tablet to stop the pregnancy hormones and agreed to come back in the morning to be induced.
On Saturday we arrived at the hospital and was shown to the Sands room. At 11:30am I was given the vaginal tablet and within an hour had started contracting. I used to TENS machine for a couple of hours then had a shot of pethdine. By 6pm I needed more pain relief and was taken to the delivery room and given a morphine drip and used the gas and air. I also had another drip in other hand with insulin and glucose.
By midnight I was fully dilated and ready to push at 1:10 am Sunday 3rd October 2004 our beautiful baby girl Emily Rose was born. But the silence that followed was dreadful. Even though you have been told your baby has died there is always the hope that maybe they were wrong but that horrible silence just makes you accept that yes for some unknown reason your baby has died.
We spent some lovely time with Emily after she was born. The midwives and my family took plenty of pictures and we had the hospital Chaplin name and bless Emily.
We finally left the hospital at 7:30pm. Leaving without her and arriving home was one of the worst things ever. To arrive home with empty arms just hurts so much.
We have some wonderful support form family and friends and we are going to start coming to the Sands meetings as well.
Today we registered Emily and started to arrange her funeral.
We have a long way to go yet but know that with the right help and support we will make it together.
We will never forget our Angel Emily in heaven.
Lisa and Rick Fricker
6th October 2004
Click here to visit Emilys' website
George Byron- Butler
It was the new century, 2000. We knew that this would be the year for us. We had two failed IVF attempts behind us (3 precious embryos which didn't take) and now we were approved to adopt 2 children, so we were finally going to have our long awaited family. It was the day before my birthday and I had been so wrapped up with social workers trying to sort out some children for us, when it suddenly occurred to me that my period was over a week late. I immediately assumed that it was the start of my menopause, as my mum had started hers in her thirties also. I cannot tell you the absolute shock and joy of discovering that after 6 years I was finally pregnant.
I had a dream pregnancy. I felt terrific all the way through. I was 34 weeks pregnant when I mentioned to my midwife that my baby's movements had slowed down. I was assured that this was natural, as the baby had less room to move around. We went away for the weekend and I started to get concerned on the Saturday, as I hadn't felt the baby move all day, even through I was prodding my bump from time to time. However, I received three strong kicks at 3.20pm and relief swept over me. These turned out to be the last time I felt my baby move. We came home on the Sunday and I rang the hospital as soon as I got home. I was advised to come in. On the drive to the hospital I was filled with dread, I knew that there was something seriously wrong, I was almost 36 weeks pregnant, but I knew that I should have felt something. We were shown into a room and a kind midwife tried to hear my baby's heart through an ear trumpet (whatever it is called). She couldn't hear anything. I know that midwives are pretty good at locating heartbeats, so this filled me with more dread. Two scans and two doctors later, we were finally told "I'm sorry, but your baby has died". How our hearts broke.
We were grateful for the homely room on Broadlands and that my husband and I could be together. Throughout the night I kept stroking my bulge and apologising to my baby. On the Monday afternoon I was induced. I was given a pain relieving injection on the Tuesday morning (10th October 2000). At 2pm I asked when I would be able to have more pain relief, as it was really hurting at that moment and I was advised that I would be in "real" labour in the evening and could be given a self administered medication. I was not examined. I was having very bad pain in my bowel region, so I decided to go to the toilet, thinking it might ease the physical pain. Well it did, I had my precious baby, after two surprising pushes at 2.22pm, alone in the toilet. It was a boy and he weighted 3lb 8oz.
We had a son and he was beautiful (bruised, but beautiful to us). When I held him in my arms, I was unprepared for the huge "whoosh" of love that I felt for him. I am so thankful for the wonderful midwife who came on duty then. She gave us wonderful memories with George. She helped us to do his hand and foot prints, to cut a lock of his hair. She took photos of us, as a family, at last. She showed me how to hold him when giving him a bath, which my husband and I did together and we dressed him. She showed George great dignity. She talked to him and told him that he was beautiful. I will treasure these memories. I was so worried about making the most of the pitifully short time we had with him, then she gave me wonderful news - we could keep him overnight. Our hearts were broken, but we didn't want to mourn him now, we wanted to "enjoy" the short time we would have as a family. Our parents and George's uncle and two aunts came to see him in the evening. We have wonderful family pictures.
We had a strangely lovely night. George was in his Moses basket between us. After 6 years of trying for a baby, we finally had our baby in bed with us (a dream we had often spoke of). The following morning, he was, of course, cold, but he looked better, as his bruises looked paler. Unfortunately I didn't have any more film left in my camera and I would have loved to have had a photo of him like this. This day was very hard for us. A lovely compassionate midwife started her shift and cried with us. We decided that before she went home that she should be the one to take George from us. Saying goodbye to our baby for the last time was painful beyond belief.
Despite the immense pain, I am grateful that our lives were blessed with George. He was our son and we love him and I know we always will. We are fortunate that we have lovely memories of the 24 hours we had with him, which will remain with us for the rest of our lives.
"We waited so long for you Darling and your time with us was so short, but very precious."
Click here to see a poem to George written by his Mummy
James Hyde
I had been grimacing as I walked around Southampton - got back to the car and asked myself why I was pulling faces - in pain - not great pain, but fleeting pains across my tummy and back. I drove home gently and padded around the house for a bit. Pete got home from his Rugby coaching and was ready to watch some match on Sky. I told him we really ought to get up to the hospital - not really worried - but unsettled.
I went to the loo when we got there and noticed a slight show - you ladies know that after 6 months of nothing, that was quite a worry - I began to cry - and was comforted by a midwife in 'checking for urine infection' mode. They were contractions at 24 weeks. A long day of painful examinations, steroid injections, lying on a delivery bed, an exciting bonus scan finally ended when I was taken up to the ward and a lovely welcoming, quiet, warm room. Things had calmed down and although they were still giving me pain relief, I felt much happier.
3 days later and I was due to come home the next day - I couldn't sleep - those pains were back and I was worried. I had a lovely little midwife (I'd hug her now) who fussed and looked at me with intelligent, knowing eyes. She got a doctor up from labour ward who wasn't really worried - just a gastro problem - or maybe wind. Again I was comforted, but that Midwife knew something was wrong. The next morning the doctor came to send me home - patted my tummy and said my baby was growing nicely.
3 fretful days at home - I never really felt ok. I was sure something was wrong - was terrified of the continuing, fleeting pains. Thursday night - pacing, phoning a doctor, going back to bed and sleeping fitfully. On the morning of the 29th November, I could not let Pete go to work the next morning and we were back at PAH by 9.30 - I wanted to believe them all that it was back pain/gastro problems/wind...
Was fussed over again - little midwives going about their routine stuff. The doctor finally came about 30 minutes after arriving. He was lovely - tall, gentle, soft spoken - 'you do look and sound like a lady in labour, but we'll have a look' . He was very gentle and unhurried. I made some joke about getting my up on the ward for some more bed rest and he met my eyes. I will never forget that moment - I knew what he was going to say - I was already 3cm dilated (thank god I had not stayed at home). Pete and I just held each other and cried - 25 weeks - our dream was coming to an end.
2 hours, much cursing and swearing later I was wheeled in for an emergency c/section. Couldn't keep still for the epidural - how can you with contractions going on??? I stroked my tummy before they put me out and said goodbye to my little boy.
James was nearly 2lbs. He was fairly feisty - made an attempt to breathe. He was beautiful - his little toes would flex when you touched his feet. Jack and Robbie adored him - Pete and I could just stare in shock and wonder at him, willing him to be strong - to live - to share more of his life with us.
At 2am on the morning of 1st December I was called down to the nnu. I remember being quite put out that I had been woken - the sweetness of denial - I had no idea what what was going on. James had had a cranial bleed and was really quite poorly. He certainly looked different. I was on my own being spoken to about him in such a way that was terrifying. I am sad to say that I could not look at him, could not touch him all this time - I was so frightened - so close to the edge of being in control. I was asked which type of priest we would like - Pete still had not arrived - in fact they arrived pretty much together. We were faced with a decision no parent should ever have to make.
James was brought to us wrapped in a shawl, soft hat and bootees. He was so fragile and small - his face had been distorted by the wires and tubes - his cheek was like silk -we held him for a short time and the tears finally came.
It has been such a long year of days that are bound up with missing James. The questions are never-ending, the sadness complete. We are coping, all of us, but it isn't easy. We miss James so much and still can't quite imagine life without him.
I was given another appointment for November 2002. The waiting list was one year but we could have pay for a private course in the meantime.
We agreed that we would pay for a course of IVF to start in November. My GP agreed to pay for the drugs which accounted for about 40% of the total cost.
I was put on drugs to stimulate my ovaries and was scanned every other day to check if my ovaries were responding. My ovaries were not responding so I was advised to abandon this attempt and begin again with stronger drugs (injections rather than nasal spray).
In January 2003 I began a course of injections. I had to inject the drugs into my thigh every day. Again I was scanned every other day - things were looking good.
Monday 24th Feb 10.30pm - 36 hours before egg collection I had to go to the hospital for the final injection.
Wednesday 26th Feb 9.30am we returned to the hospital for egg retrieval. Here we hit a snag, despite previous samples being fine, Brian's sperm were not active and mobile - we were advised to opt for ICSI were one good sperm is selected and injected directly into each egg. Then came the next snag. Only one egg was retrieved. Because of my endometriosis only one ovary could be reached and most of the follicles did not contain eggs.
We were deeply disappointed - all this effort and so little good results. However we had one egg.
We were sent home - the hospital would call the following day to tell us if fertilisation had taken place.
Thursday 27th February - my egg had been successfully fertilised. We were amazed and thrilled.
Friday 28th February - we returned to the hospital for embryo transfer. We were shown the 4-cell embryo magnified many times. After the transfer had taken place I was advised to lie still for a while before going home. I was advised to cut out caffeine, hot spicy foods and pineapple (I am still unsure why pineapple), continue taking folic acid and take one aspirin a day.
We were to return in two weeks time for a pregnancy test. I spent the next two weeks on a high assuming I was pregnant and taking it very easy.
Thursday 13th March - the day before I was due at the hospital for the pregnancy test I decided it was time to face reality - the chances of me being pregnant were slim.
Friday 14th March - we returned to the hospital - I had not done a pregnancy test myself - much to the amazement of the nurse. After she left with my urine sample Brian calmly tried to warn me that that the chances of being pregnant were slim, I agreed and we awaited the bad news. Jenny, the nurse returned a few minutes later with the news - I was pregnant !! We were absolutely stunned.
We had booked a holiday to Barcelona for 18th March - we thought we'd be getting away to cheer us up if I was not pregnant - now I was panicking about flying but was assured that as it was only a short flight we should go. I didn't enjoy the flights at all although I did enjoy the holiday.
We had also booked a holiday to USA for 25th April - I immediately decided I was not going. Luckily the insurance company were happy to repay my flight costs after receiving a letter from my GP.
Quite often I would get niggly stomach aches and period like pains. On one occasion I rang the hospital in tears convinced that the pregnancy was ectopic. Jenny reassured me that this was unlikely - it was just my body recovering from all the procedures it had gone through and also now getting used to being pregnant. I would have to wait for the 6-week scan.
Friday 11th April - I was booked for a scan - the sonographer confirmed that everything was well - a heartbeat could be detected. We received our first photo of our baby - a blob. We were given a due date of 23rd November. I mentioned all the aches and pains I had but was assured that baby was fine so I accepted these little niggles.
Friday 25th April - I returned for a scan when arms and legs could be seen clearly waving. Brian had flown to America that morning. Mum came with me. She was in tears as she watched her grandchild wave to her. I no longer needed to attend the IVF clinic - I saw my GP and told her the good news and was referred to the maternity unit.
My bump was growing - I liked to stand in front of the mirror admiring it.
I attended my antenatal appointments.
I am not sure when I started to get morning sickness. I would feel sick at all sorts of t